Horde (Enclave Series)

by Ann Aguirre

“Then we’d appreciate the escort. We can spare some provisions once we arrive, and I’ll help you find a place in town to rest up for a night or two.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I don’t know if you caught my name last night amid all the revelry. I’m Vince Howe.”

  “Deuce Oaks.” That was the first time I’d offered two names, and Fade shot me a surprised look, but he smiled. I needed to tell him that Momma Oaks had given her blessing for him to use their name too.

  “Pleasure, ma’am. I guess you know, but you run a right remarkable group. I’m sorry for your losses, but I don’t know when I saw more impressive battle.” I acknowledged that with an inclination of my head, and he continued, “We’ll be ready to go in less than an hour.”

  I took that opportunity to use the sanitary facilities one last time, so I jogged over to the lab and banged until the scientist appeared. Dr. Wilson was happy to let me in, and for a minute, I thought he might follow me all the way to the wash closet. He stopped in the hall, fortunately, and said, “Come see me before you depart, all right?”

  With a distracted gesture, I agreed and then washed up. It felt wrong to start a new journey with grave dirt still smeared on my skin, embedded beneath my nails. When I came out, damp and clean, I felt renewed. For a few moments, I considered ducking out because I was in no mood to chat with the scientist. But in the end, I kept my promise and headed to the lab to speak with the old man.

  “What’s on your mind?” I asked.

  He had two cups of tea steaming on the table, along with some buttered toast, so I joined him. On the road, I missed bread, and while this wasn’t fresh, the melted butter made up for the rest. The drink was pale but strong with a medicinal scent. It tasted better than it smelled, however, with a gentle tang of mint. I drank mine because it was wet and hot, pleasant in a dry throat, and then I devoured the food.

  The scientist watched me in silence, but once I finished, he said, “Your friend, Tegan, is quite extraordinary.”

  “Tell her, not me.”

  “I’m appealing to you as her commander. A mind like hers shouldn’t be wasted on the life of a common soldier. Let her stay with me. I could use an assistant … and I’ve been looking for someone like her my whole life.”

  I laughed. “You don’t know Tegan if you think I have any say over whether she stays or goes. But I’ll fetch her and you can put the invitation to her yourself.”

  Leaving the dregs in my mug, I left the lab and went looking for Tegan. She was sitting alone in a patch of spring sunlight. The men gave her a wide berth, probably because of the tear streaks down her dusty cheeks. Dr. Wilson was right; she wasn’t cut out for this life, but she was lucky in that there was no reason she couldn’t cry when she felt sad.

  “The good doctor would like a word,” I said, offering my hand.

  She seemed glad of the distraction, and we walked back to the lab together. Once inside, the scientist stated his case with more eloquence than he’d offered me, outlining all the opportunities for study and the wondrous things he could teach her. He concluded with “It’s long been my dream to pass on my knowledge, but until now, I’d encountered no suitable candidates. But you, my dear, you’re perfect.”

  Tegan considered, her lips parted in astonishment. “It’s a kind offer, Dr. Wilson, but I’ll see this through. Company D relies on me for healing, and the men will suffer without my care.”

  “I see you were right about not being her captain,” Dr. Wilson said to me.

  She frowned. “Deuce is my friend … she didn’t order me to follow her. In fact she tried to talk me out of it. Should I survive, then I’ll gladly come back to study with you.”

  “I’ll endeavor to wait until that day,” Wilson said dryly.

  A hot flush colored Tegan’s cheeks, and I smothered a smile. “I’m sorry. That sounded presumptuous, didn’t it?”

  “I did ask you to stay. It’s not wrong to assume I’d like you to come back some day.”

  “Then I thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Wilson. I hope we meet again.”

  That seemed like the cue for us to leave, so we said our farewells and met the men in the town square. The wagons were loaded, and I was ready to see the last of Winterville. Despite their cowardice the night before, the townsfolk saw us off, and a few asked if I’d let them enlist. I was tempted to refuse, as I had with Rex, due to their inexperience, but I could tell by their guilt-racked expressions that they wanted to make up for their inaction. And in truth, we needed the bodies.

  I looked the three men up and down. “Any of you know how to shoot?”

  They shook their heads. But one of them said, “Please. I’m a smith. I can keep your weapons in good repair. Surely that’s worth something.”

  He was a burly sort with broad shoulders and scarred hands. So I beckoned them all on. Since we had wagons to protect, this journey would take much longer than it did when the men ran at a Hunter’s pace. More time on the road meant more chances for trouble, and we were all weary, but if we delivered the supplies safely to Lorraine, other volunteers might join our cause. John Kelley was spreading our story, and I suspected Vince Howe would add to it as well.

  These things took time.

  We were on the road for over a week, and Stalker’s scouts did most of the heavy lifting. Sometimes we fought preemptive battles against the Freaks, so they had no chance to lay an ambush for the wagons. As I’d predicted, it was slow going, and there was little time to spend with Fade, apart from the way I treated the rest of the men. From his occasional looks, he was missing the way it felt when we were together, but the job came first, as it ever had. This was familiar from our time in the summer patrols, but I minded more than I had then. For the first time, I could imagine a quiet life with Fade, a little cottage like Momma Oaks had shared with Edmund in Salvation. I was tired of smoky campfires and nights spent alone in a bedroll on the ground. I’d learn to grow things, and he could find work that didn’t require killing. On a starry night like this, those were dreams too distant for building.

  On the eighth night, I woke to pure chaos. The mules were screaming, Freaks were all around us. My men recovered as fast as they could, and the traders aimed their rifles, shooting into the dark. Between the crack of gunfire and cries of pain, I had no idea where anyone was. Gavin, the brat from Winterville, had climbed on top of the crates and was lying on his stomach, firing with complete calm. I spotted Fade fighting some distance away, but I didn’t see Tegan or Stalker. There was no time to search further, because three Freaks were on me.

  I whipped out my knives and whirled into the fight. As my vision sharpened, I spied Tegan on the other side of the wagon. Morrow fought madly toward her side, his blade a silver arc in the dark. By his worried expression, he didn’t like how they were surrounding her. I didn’t care for it either, but Stalker was closer. Another Freak charged her back; she was already blocking with everything she had.

  Though she was good with her staff, she wasn’t infallible. In a few more seconds, she’d go down. Stalker stopped defending and took four slashes across his back. He sprinted. I registered the precise moment when he realized he could save Tegan or land the killing blow, but not both. Not in time. A second later, he threw himself between her and the Freak that would’ve torn out her spine. He took both talons in the chest before Morrow and I reached them.

  The Freak who went after Tegan from behind had a vicious scar across its face, received in some prior battle with human soldiers. It looked like a knife wound—and when it saw us—it loped off, more evidence that they were growing more cunning. This one preferred to live to fight another day. The rest of the monsters spun on us, but Fade and Morrow were there, fighting like wild things to keep them away. They died in piles beneath their furious blades.

  Kneeling beside Stalker, I sealed my palms against the wounds. Blood bubbled up from between my fingers. The dawn showed signs of brightening into a sunny day, and he shouldn’t be dying. Tegan sobbed, calling
for her medicine bag, but by his crooked smile, he knew it was no use. Stalker pulled my fingers away and clutched them tight, until our skin was slick and red. His breath grew wet and harsh, his eyes winter pale in his stark face. I drew him up into my arms, as if I could force him to live if I held him tight enough.

  “You said I could never make it right … but this helps, doesn’t it? The world’s getting the better deal, her for me.”

  Unable to speak for the tears thickening my throat, I stared down, memorizing his features. Though I couldn’t care for him like he wanted, he’d been my friend since we made peace in the ruins. He’d fought brave and true by my side. His ideas, his genius, had helped me build Company D, and I didn’t know how to win without him.

  Stalker squeezed my fingers, his voice harsh and labored. “Promise, promise you’ll finish this for me.”

  “By everyone I love, I swear it,” I choked out.

  “I’d … ask you to … kiss me good-bye,” he whispered, “but—”

  Before he could finish the wheezing words, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his cheek. He smiled, and it felt as if he were already gone, his body lighter in my arms. My heart broke over and over with each of his wet, rasping breaths.

  His lashes fluttered like butterfly wings. “I could’ve made you happy, dove.”

  “You did,” I whispered.

  Not in the way he’d wanted, of course. But I had loved sparring with him, loved his pragmatic outlook, and his loyalty when he granted his trust. But he didn’t hear. The spark that made him Stalker had gone, leaving a limp body in my arms. All around the campsite, Company D protected me from the straggling Freaks, but the battle felt far away. I was gone too, weeping in silence. It wasn’t the way a leader behaved, but I was only a girl, mourning a fallen friend. So the battle raged on, but I had no fight left in me. My daggers lay useless at my sides.

  “Let him go,” Tegan said softly.

  When she hugged me, I went into her arms, my eyes smeared with blood and tears. We wept together, and I felt Tegan shaking. She’d hated him so much, then she forgave him, and now this. Though I’d believed him when he said he regretted so many things—and that he’d changed—I never would’ve expected such a sacrifice from him. Until the moment when he decided her life was more precious than his own, I’d have said he was foremost a survivor.

  Like me.

  But in the end, Stalker chose to be better still.

  And I had promises to keep.

  Pledge

  Company D rallied and carried the day, and there were no more casualties. Remembering Fade’s words about being a strong leader, I pulled myself together and dried my tears. Yet the men had no trouble meeting my gaze, so I guessed they didn’t judge me lacking because I’d grieved for a friend. It seemed unlikely anybody could sleep—too much blood and death, too much danger lurking just beyond the wagons.

  “We’re hours from Lorraine,” Vince Howe said. “Let me load your fallen man, and we’ll see him buried when we’re safe.”

  I acceded.

  That was a miserable march with sorrow gnawing through my backbone. Tegan wore a dead, awful look, one I recognized from when Rex lost his wife. She didn’t mourn Stalker like that, but shock had a hold of her, as if something this awful couldn’t possibly be true. I moved without thinking about where I put my feet, and six hours later, despite wagon speed, Lorraine rose ahead of us. In the morning light, it looked different from the first time we visited. Lorraine was a pretty town, a combination of Salvation and Soldier’s Pond. The houses were made of wood, but the ramparts surrounding it were made of stone, like a picture I saw in a book once; Edmund had called it a castle. They had a standing militia, but they didn’t patrol much. It was a common theme in the territory—people didn’t go out looking for trouble if they had a choice. They’d let the Freaks push them back, until they feared the wilderness like drinking poison.

  Better we stay safe, they said. Better that those trained to do so go out to do battle with the monsters.

  If not for the men willing to brave the trade routes, these towns would be dead already. But for sheer appearance, Lorraine got high marks. It was more polished than Otterburn, less divided than Winterville. The buildings were old but well kept, of timber and stone. The roads leading up to town were made of dirt, but once the guard waved us past the gates, they had been swept, neat lines in the dust contributing to an orderly feel. People wore functional clothing here, both men and women. There wasn’t a lot of variation in the dyes, but working with Momma Oaks had given me some idea about fabrics, and they had skilled weavers.

  Arranging a proper funeral took most of the day. Vince Howe paid the fees and found Stalker a spot in the town cemetery. The undertaker took his body from us, and the next time we saw him, he was encased in a wooden box. There were men hired specifically to bury it, and people came from town because Howe asked them to. But I had the hardest job, for it fell to me to speak the right words in saying good-bye.

  My throat tightened. “Stalker wasn’t always a good person, but he was a fierce warrior, and he died well. Good hunting, my friend.”

  The men echoed it with one final battle cry, and then the gravediggers shoveled dirt on his casket. Howe set his hand on my shoulder. “I owe you. I doubt we’d have made it back in one piece without your men. So let me show you to your lodgings.”

  The last time we were here, they left us to fend for ourselves, but today, we received a heroes’ welcome. The townsfolk offered us the town hall for our barracks and ladies of all ages promised to deliver warm crocks of food before the sun set. Before that, however, the local pubs sent us jugs of watered wine. I didn’t want drunks on my squad, as they tended to be loud and uncoordinated, but if any occasion called for some indulgence, it was this one.

  It had been a devil of a week.

  Once we were settled in the great room, I gave the orders in a monotone. “Get comfortable, men. Try not to think about the ones we lost. They died as they chose. Not every man gets to say that.”

  “True enough,” Thornton answered. “I hope I go out half as well.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Spence said.

  They all raised their mugs, and I went over to Tegan, who still wore that odd, frozen look. “Anything I can do?”

  She covered her face with her hands. “I shouldn’t have come. That invitation from Dr. Wilson was a sign, and I ignored it. If I’d stayed in Winterville, Stalker would still be alive.”

  “You can’t know that,” I said firmly.

  Fade joined us, folding down into a cross-legged position. “Deuce’s right.”

  Tegan clenched a fist and banged it on her knee. “There was a time when this was all I thought about. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to understand how much I suffered at their hands. Sometimes I fantasized about his death. But … I never imagined it would be for me.”

  I couldn’t decide what to say, but before I made it worse, she went on, “I’d appreciate it if you gave me a little time to make sense of things. I’ll be all right.”

  Since that was obviously a dismissal, Fade stood and pulled me to my feet. I went over to Thornton and said softly, “I need some air. You’re in charge until I get back.”

  The older man nodded. “I doubt these boys are going anywhere. They’re tired and hungry, waiting on the food we were promised.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be here soon. Vince Howe seemed serious about looking out for us.”

  “We did him a good turn and he knows it. If honor means anything here in Lorraine, he won’t go back on his word.”

  I was counting on that. Hurt expanded in my chest, until I felt like I’d choke if I didn’t get away for a while, away from promises and expectations, away from death. Fade followed me out of the town hall, his steps echoing after mine. I ran through the twilight, attracting strange looks from the people going about their business, until I arrived at the graveyard where we’d left Stalker. The men were gone, and the hole was filled in. They had
planted a rectangular stone, which they promised would bear his name soon enough. A man with a chisel would cut the rock away until he shaped it just right.

  Dropping down beside his grave, I cried as I hadn’t even when I held my friend’s body in my arms. The sobs tore out of me, loud against the quiet night. Fade knelt and wrapped his arms around me, so I sealed my face against his shoulder, hoping to muffle some of the noise. He didn’t try to quiet me, offering only silence and warmth. When I calmed, I noticed his hands stroking down my back.

  “Better?” he asked at length.

  “Not really. But I can handle it now.”

  “I didn’t like him,” he said quietly, “but I’m sorry you lost a friend.”

  “He won’t be the last, I fear. And I couldn’t stand it if you—”

  Fade silenced me with his mouth; this wasn’t a hungry, taking kiss, but one that gave back comfort and tenderness, soothing my inner ache. This wasn’t the place for such things, however, so I struggled to my feet and dusted off my knees. The ache might never go away, but I was strong enough to swallow it down and remember how a Huntress should respond. Lately, I was more girl than Huntress, and it was making my job more complicated. Down below, I would’ve reacted less emotionally, factoring our chances of success or failure without much regard for loss of human life.

  Together, we left the graveyard and headed toward the town hall. At night, people stayed indoors, so the dirt lanes were deserted and the windows shone with golden light. Guards manned the stone walls with rifles and crossbows like the one Tully carried. If any human settlements stood a chance of survival, Gaspard and Lorraine did. Appleton was lost, and I didn’t think Winterville had much longer, unless they made some drastic changes.

  When Fade and I returned, the men were eating. I had no appetite but Fade persuaded me to drink some soup. Morrow sat beside Tegan, whispering in her ear. She wasn’t smiling at his nonsense but from the light in her eyes, she was no longer feeling quite so heavyhearted. Once the food and drink were gone, we all rolled into our blankets and went to sleep.