Horde (Enclave Series)

by Ann Aguirre

  “No,” I said gently. “I’d have died fighting you. I don’t have it in me to bend. For me, it’s always been Fade. It always will be.”

  He nodded, his eyes cold. “I understand that. And I can live with it. Do we have a deal?”

  Part of me didn’t think it was a good idea to take him along, but he was an excellent scout. Only the fact that he wanted to lead his own men had driven him to offer this agreement. He had been in power in the Wolves, and he didn’t much like following orders, which he’d have to do if he stayed in Soldier’s Pond and formally joined their ranks. While the scouts might have more freedom, there was still a chain of command, and Stalker wanted to be at the top.

  “Right now, there’s nobody for you to lead, but I accept.”

  He nodded. “That’s enough. I’ve seen what you can accomplish.”

  That sounded an awful lot like a vote of confidence. Before I could thank him for it, he turned and strode away. In time, I hoped he would get over his hurt feelings. I missed training with him. Fade stepped out of the house when I approached the door.

  “What was that about?” But his tone wasn’t sharp or fearful; and that, too, was a relief. I didn’t need to deal with jealousy on top of everything else.

  Quickly I summarized the offer Stalker had made.

  “He’ll do well with that, provided we can find him some scouts.”

  I sighed. “That’s far from sure, at this point.”

  “At least you’re taking action. Every big thing starts small.”

  Maybe I was just tired, but that seemed profound. Fade took a breath, then framed my face in his hands, contact initiated wholly by him. I gazed up at him, enjoying the warmth of his palms against my cheeks. Then he brushed a kiss against my brow, amusement in his dark eyes.

  “Tegan got you good.”

  “She did.” I ducked my head. “But I had it coming.”

  He kissed my temple next, and I closed my eyes with a shiver of pleasure. “Thanks, Deuce.”

  “What for?”

  “Being patient. I don’t know why, but it’s better and easier when I’m in control. When you just let me—I don’t know.” Fade’s hand curled into a fist because he was obviously frustrated at not being able to explain. “It’s just better.”

  “That’s all I care about. If it means I have to wait for you to hold my hand or to kiss me, that’s fine. I fully believe there will come a time when you don’t even think about it anymore.”

  “It might be a while,” he warned me.

  I smiled. “Then I’ll just have to depend on your urge to touch me.”

  “You can count on that.” His dark eyes held a hungry light, like he wanted to eat me up. I rather wanted to let him.

  That night, we all slept in the same room, the small barrack house my folks had been assigned. Edmund snored a little; so did Rex. At some point, Fade climbed down from his bunk and into mine. Since he was warm, I didn’t protest … and since he wanted to be close to me, I took it as a personal victory. His arms went around me, so natural that I drifted back to sleep at once. When I woke, he was gone, probably down at the workshop with the other two men.

  Momma Oaks was listlessly sweeping the floor, which didn’t need it, when I rolled out of my bed and bundled up some clean clothes, intending to head to the washhouse. Impulsively, I went over and hugged her. She squeezed me back, patting my shoulders as if I were the one who needed comfort. And maybe I did. Yesterday sure hadn’t gone as I’d hoped.

  “I’ll find us a better place,” I promised her. “Just hold on, and when the war’s over, I’ll look for a town that will suit us all better.”

  She smiled. “It’d be impossible to have a better daughter or for me to love you more.”

  Stepping back, I took her hands in mine, feeling so many things that I just didn’t even have the words for them. “I’m sorry about Salvation. I wish I could’ve done more, if I had stopped that Freak who stole the fire—”

  “Oh, honey, no. Put that burden down. It’s not yours to carry. The Lord sends trials as he sees fit. In my heart, I thought you could try harder to fit in Salvation. I love you but I didn’t always understand. Perhaps this is His way of making me see.”

  “You think he took away your home in order to teach you something?” That sounded like a mean, petty thing to do for someone who supposedly had all the power.

  “Could be. But speculating is pointless. His ways are beyond our understanding.”

  Nodding, I stepped back and collected my things. I would have to rush to get cleaned up and make the breakfast service in the mess hall. I ran to the bathhouse, past the center of town, where a number of houses had been demolished, and that was where they planted their crops. In addition, there were gardens just inside the metal fencing. Soldier’s Pond made excellent use of the space they defended. It was efficient, certainly. There was also a pen full of livestock, but they used the meat sparingly from what I’d seen. I hurried through my shower and arrived as the last latecomers joined the line. I didn’t like this part of our new life; I preferred Salvation’s way of eating meals at home. Cooked in such quantities, the food was bland and savorless.

  You won’t be eating it much longer.

  Skimming the crowd, I saw no one I knew until Morrow beckoned me over. He was sitting alone with a sheaf of papers, his fingers ink-stained. As I approached, he nudged them aside, making room for my plate. I sat down on the bench opposite him.

  “You weren’t kidding,” I said, surprised.

  “When people stop writing down their stories, the soul of the world is lost.”

  “So what was it like, growing up here? Did you have a choice about becoming a soldier?” I wasn’t clear how that worked.

  “I’m not from here, and I’m not one, really. I come and go like the wind.” Though his tone was light, he definitely meant it.

  “But the colonel sent you with us to Salvation, among her best men.”

  “You saw my work with the foil. Would you not agree that I have skill?” I couldn’t argue that. He went on, “And she didn’t send me. I chose to go. Big difference.”

  I raised a brow. “Because you thought it would make a good story?”

  Morrow indicated the scattered papers. “What do you think I’m writing?”

  I didn’t know how I felt about that. On some level it seemed disrespectful to make an entertainment out of what the folks of Salvation had suffered. But another part of me said it was good and fitting that they would be remembered. Mulling the two conflicting thoughts, I downed the rest of my food without much enjoyment.

  “Thanks for the company,” I said, rising. “I’ll be in touch in a few days, once I see how many men are coming from Winterville.”

  “Not many, I expect. It’s why Dr. Wilson was working on a peaceful solution to the Mutie problem.”

  I wondered how he knew about the pheromones or if he knew anything at all. Morrow might be testing me to see what he could learn for his blasted stories. While I needed his blade, I didn’t fully trust him or his motives; he had his own reasons for joining me. Still, it was better to have men who could think for themselves instead of those who followed blindly.

  Three days later, four men arrived from Winterville. They were exhausted and two of them were wounded from a skirmish with the Freaks. Tegan treated their wounds, which weren’t serious. They were all angry when they realized the message hadn’t come from the colonel, but they’d all lost their families to the madness Dr. Wilson created when he sprayed the town. So they had nothing to go home for and a strong reason to fight.

  The next day, as we assembled in the training yard, I did a head count. Four from Soldier’s Pond. Four men from Winterville. When Tegan presented herself without a word, angry eyes daring me to protest, that gave us four from the ruins of Gotham. That made twelve—such a small number to set out toward such a big goal. My family came out to watch us go. There was no fanfare; the soldiers never paused in their work or their drills. They probably f
igured we were going to die.

  It was up to us to prove them wrong.

  Otterburn

  I had never been in charge of anything before.

  So when Stalker stepped in and interrogated all the new men from Winterville, then claimed two of them for the scouts, I let it happen, partly because we needed skilled sentries, and partly because I felt guilty that I didn’t care about him the way he wanted. That was an illogical reaction and I had to banish it. But it would help the rest of the squad, small as it was, to have good intel. The scouts would still fight when it came down to it. Before we left, I had checked the maps and memorized the route to Otterburn. It wasn’t far from Soldier’s Pond, only a day up the river via hard march. Wagons would take much longer. I didn’t anticipate trouble, but it was best to be prepared.

  “Stalker, would you mind—”

  “We’ll scout,” he said.

  His team hurried off to check the path ahead. I understood why he didn’t let me finish. He was making it clear this mission resulted from his choice, not because I asked.

  I turned to the rest. “Let’s go. We’ll make Otterburn by nightfall if we push.”

  Tegan fell into step, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

  “You were mad. I understand why.”

  “I figured you’d stop me.”

  “I scared you and hurt your feelings. That deserved a smack in the face.” I smiled at her, wincing a little at the way it pulled my sore nose. “I’m just glad you came with us anyway. We’ll need a medic something fierce before this is through.”

  “I don’t just want to patch you up,” she said. “I want to be able to defend myself. I don’t want always to be the weakest one in the group.”

  I nodded. “We’ll figure out what weapon works best for you and go from there.”

  Tegan didn’t hug me around the shoulders because we were soldiers now, but I could tell she wanted to. “Thanks, Deuce.”

  The scouts found us a clear path to Otterburn, but there were Freaks sniffing all along the river. It bothered me that I could no longer smell them as strongly, only a whisper of corruption carried on the wind. Things were changing faster than I could keep up. Part of me doubted my ability to complete this task I’d set for myself.

  A smaller voice was saying, Just find a safe place to hide. You can’t save these towns, and you’re crazy for considering it.

  Then the Huntress squeezed out the cowardice, reminded me I’d rather die fighting, like Thornton said. If that was the case, well, at least like Longshot, I’d make my death mean something. Living down below, I wouldn’t have had that many years left anyway. So I’d make them count Topside; the Huntress who would always be a part of me, as much as my scars, wouldn’t let me do less.

  The sun was sinking below the horizon when we arrived at the edge of town, long orange and pink streaks staining the sky. Otterburn was more like Salvation than other settlements I’d seen. The buildings were rough-hewn, but there were no walls here, no whitewash either. The wood was weathered, but it wasn’t like Winterville. There were people in the mud lanes, going about their business. Yet this was a small settlement without visible means of protection. The proximity to Soldier’s Pond meant they might receive aid in times of trouble, but I wouldn’t care to rely on a neighbor’s goodwill. I counted thirty buildings, total, twenty-five of which looked like people lived in them. The others were probably for tradecraft. Given the apparent lack of precautions, I had no idea how they hadn’t been wiped off the map.

  I turned to the recruits from Soldier’s Pond, including Morrow in the look. “What do you all know about this place? Have you been here before?”

  Tully and Spence shook their heads, and he said, “Our patrols didn’t rove this far.”

  “I did trade runs for a while,” Thornton said, “so I’ve been here, but it was a long time ago. I retired from the road after my boys were born.” A flicker of sorrow shifted his set expression, a reminder that he had come along because he had nobody left in Soldier’s Pond.

  The storyteller added, “I’ve been here, but I didn’t see anything worth staying for.”

  He was likely the most traveled member of our group, making me glad he’d volunteered. “Do any of you remember the layout?”

  “Nope,” Thornton said.

  Morrow admitted, “I didn’t make any mental notes. This place is a bit of an eyesore.”

  “No matter. We’ll figure it out,” I murmured.

  Tegan was still beside me, though she was limping after a day on the move. But her leg wasn’t as weak as it had been, so she was improving. Asking more of herself would only increase her stamina too. I wasn’t worried about her keeping up. Everything else? Absolutely.

  I called a halt in the center of town, then said to Stalker, “Take the measure of the place. See if you can find a local gathering spot. A shop or a market?”

  Fade had told me about those long ago, how people got together to trade things. A place like that would be exactly what we needed.

  Unlike other settlements, there were no guards. No sentries. People walking with bags and baskets glanced at us more than once, but nobody asked our business. Given what I knew about the world, I didn’t see how this place could continue, long term, without everybody dying in a massacre. Glancing at the rest of my men, I could tell they didn’t understand it, either.

  The people seemed well fed. They wore simple clothing, similar to what folks had used in Salvation, except the women here were in trousers, too. I smelled bread baking along with the rich, savory scent of soup. After the swill we’d eaten in Soldier’s Pond, my stomach growled.

  “I hear you,” Thornton said.

  Before I could reply, Stalker returned. “I found what they call a public house. Half the men in town seem to be inside.”

  “Then that’s where we need to go.”

  The place Stalker mentioned had a porch across the front, and it was noisier than other buildings. I stepped inside, wrinkling my nose at the strong scent. It smelled like rotten fruit only with more yeast, combined lightly with unwashed bodies. Conversation stalled at our entrance, resumed a few seconds later as the men inside decided we weren’t that interesting.

  “It’s a drinking house,” Morrow said.

  “What’s that?” I asked, low.

  “They serve alcohol.” He forestalled my next question by explaining, “It makes you stupid, loud, and removes a good half of your coordination.”

  “That sounds like a bad way to pass the time if you want to live,” Tegan said.

  Yet another reason that Otterburn didn’t seem to be like the other towns. I just had no idea why.

  There was a man behind a counter, a big, bald lout with a scarred face, and an even bigger cudgel behind him. For obvious reasons, he looked like he was in charge, so I picked a path through the tables and said, “Do you mind if I address the men?”

  “That depends. I don’t want you stirring up trouble in here and causing a fight.”

  I didn’t think my words would have that effect, but it seemed better not to make him mad. “I’m looking for soldiers to fight the Muties.”

  An enormous belly laugh erupted from him. “Why the devil would we do that?”

  Fade stepped up from behind me, his body language declaring that he’d happily pound this big idiot into paste. He didn’t like when people mocked me, regardless of the reason. I held up a hand, not wanting to provoke the fellow when I didn’t understand what was going on.

  “You don’t have problems with them here?” Thornton asked, visibly skeptical.

  “I don’t meddle in your business,” the man said.

  Tegan tried a conciliatory tone. “If you told us how you manage to stay safe, it could help a lot of other towns.”

  I already knew it couldn’t be some technical solution like they’d tried in Winterville. Nothing in Otterburn made me think they were using old-world salvage. Like in Salvation, there were lamps and candles in here, adding to the ro
om’s stink. The counterman rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful.

  “A story for a story,” Morrow suggested.

  “Make yours more entertaining than mine and I’ll throw in soup and beer for the lot of you.” The man gestured to the crowd. “A happy crowd stays … and drinks longer.”

  Our teller of tales nodded. “Explain how this works and I’ll keep them laughing.”

  “Before, we had trouble with the Muties, same as anybody. They were mostly dumb beasts and we hid in our root cellars. They were too stupid to find us. So they’d break doors and furniture, sniff around until they got bored. Occasionally, they’d eat a straggler who didn’t get hidden in time. About a year ago, all of that changed.”

  “How?” Stalker asked.

  We were all riveted, even the bitter, silent men from Winterville. I bet they wished they’d had this secret before Dr. Wilson infected the town and made their families go crazy, so they had to be penned up away from everyone else. But what else would you expect from a fellow who kept a Freak as a pet? Smart as he was, the man wasn’t right.

  “About six months ago, the Muties called a meeting. Instead of attacking, they sent one of theirs that could talk.”

  A rumble of disbelief echoed through our small group, followed by some creative cursing. I took note of a few. Even Morrow looked skeptical—and he specialized in stories. But I wasn’t so quick to dismiss the claim. I remembered the Freak addressing me in a raspy voice. When the fighting was fiercest outside Salvation’s gates, I’d stabbed a Freak’s slashing hand, and it had pulled back, screaming its pain. Its murky, almost-human eyes had glared at me in shock, I’d thought.

  Did you think I’d just let you eat me? I had demanded.

  Eat me, it growled back.

  I’d dismissed its words as a beast’s trick, an act of mimicry. Now, given what the Otterburn fellow claimed, I wondered if I had been wrong. Maybe that was the start of the monsters’ evolutionary stabilization, as Dr. Wilson put it. I wasn’t altogether sure what that meant, but nothing good for us; that was sure.

  “The Mutie spoke to you?” Thornton clarified in a tone usually reserved for fools.