by Kacey Ezell
The attack had been sudden, and thorough. Although targeted most viciously at Death, someone wanted them all dead. The Human Alcuin had helped turn the momentum, and he was sure his littermates and Susa would survive. He was sure he would, too, though that last explosion had…
Someone had known about the explosion that took Reow and the Peacemaker before it happened, because a random attack made for too much of a coincidence, and they had planned in depth. To have reprogrammed their probes, to have Hunters in waiting—that took time, and effort.
Skill, the combination of talents each of the siblings had honed, the Peacemaker’s bounty hunter, and a fair measure of luck had only barely saved them—the attack had been designed with overkill in mind.
In the face of all that planning, whoever had waged the attack would not hesitate to follow through. Their lives had become forfeit, and he couldn’t simply run through the jungle to the city and appear as though nothing had happened. As though he weren’t under interdict. The fact that the attempt had been so meticulously designed and yet failed signaled that someone, somewhere on Khatash, could not afford for him to live.
His thoughts circled these facts as he continued counting, working his way deeper into the jungle and away from the wreckage of his clan.
Reow had no reason to kill the Peacemaker, but someone had determined she had.
Someone hated Reow and all she had built, enough to kill her and the Peacemaker, name her clan anathema, and sentence them all to death.
Someone had managed to put together the pieces and conduct a stunning attack in their most guarded dwelling, and they had nearly succeeded.
Someone had resources and experience.
It had to be Dirrys. It had to be Whispering Fear.
The realization beat against him, increasing his pace, so obvious it quickened his breath. Of course it was her, the angry dama who had nearly attacked his dama in council. He didn’t know how, or the entirety of why, but it was enough. He knew it had to be true. He would go to Whispering Fear, and challenge her in front of her clan, pull out her teeth and use them to carve out her eyes. He would tie her with her own tail, pull strips of skin from it and feed them to her. He would mark her fur—
Mid thought, mid count, panting, he toppled into the undergrowth, unconscious before the ground slammed against him.
* * *
A high, skittering cry shocked Blade awake, and he leapt to his feet with his front claws extended even as his eyes opened. The motion immediately sent pain racing from the base of his skull to his back legs, and he hissed.
The hiss saved his life, giving the poisonous slipskin reason to be elsewhere immediately. Covered in blood, smoke, and dirt, Blade’s scent had been faint enough to give the long, scaled creature confidence in its unchallenged stalking of the flier who had shrieked. The hiss of a deadlier predator kept it from spitting its venom at the flier, and Blade saw only the blur of its scales as it fled.
For a moment Blade wavered on his feet, then crouched, panting. The pain refused to ebb, but adrenaline helped dampen it, giving him room to take stock of his injuries. A rib, cracked or broken, and pressure down his side indicated it might cramp his breath, but likely hadn’t punctured anything. A mass of blood dried into his fur down his back where he could just reach. Some projectile or shrapnel had lodged itself there, but he wouldn’t reach to dig it out while unprotected in the open jungle. The slipskin might have fled at finding an unexpected predator nearby, but there were plenty of other creatures who would flock to the smell of fresh blood, and several of those could strike him down, given his weakened state.
Smaller lacerations marked him all over—there had been several explosions—but not enough to keep him from moving. He turned his head, ears swiveling, marking the direction he’d come from and orienting himself in the sprawl of trees and vegetation.
As a kit he had roamed much of the jungle near their den, finding clever hiding holes and mostly hidden small caves for his treasures, and he’d kept some of them as he grew—less for shiny playthings and more for quiet space to research and consider a contract, away from his siblings. Being Blade, he’d also stocked a few with supplies and gear, because tools were often as helpful as knowledge in executing a hunt.
Without climbing into the lower canopy, he couldn’t be certain, but he was fairly sure he’d pushed himself north and slightly east, closer to the small river that wound around the empty hills between their den and the city. The undergrowth was exceptionally layered and tangled that way, with enough animal trails and moving vines that his path would have been hard to trace. The same undergrowth likely meant Blade hadn’t gotten nearly as far as he’d wanted to, so if he continued to move north and slightly east, he should reach the river and be able to find the way to one of his better supplied caves.
He briefly weighed the idea of climbing and using the lower canopy paths for a more direct journey, but that would push his already strained body and put him in contact with more nimble competitors besides. Any part of the Khatash jungle could be deadly, but the lower levels of the towering trees that interlocked across their planet hosted some of the fastest creatures, and he’d been lucky enough so far that he knew better than to push it.
Opening his mouth to better scent the air, Blade took a deep breath, ignored the jab of pain that resulted, and moved.
* * *
The edges of his vision broke up into gray sparks, but Blade’s pace held steady as he slipped past the tangled vines and piled rocks that concealed the deceptively small cave entrance. Inside, he paused only to ensure nothing had moved in—Hunter scent would keep most, but not all, invaders from roosting—and stepped carefully across the rough ground of loose stones and fluttery, stinging fungus.
Toward the back of the cave, where the high arch of the ceiling began to narrow in closer to the ground, a cracked boulder leaned against the irregular wall. A much younger Blade had been exceedingly proud of his own cleverness in moving it, positioning it perfectly to hide the low opening to a corridor branching further into the cave system. He spared a fond thought for that smug little kit as he climbed the boulder and slid on his back into the small opening left between the cleft of the boulder and the opening of the rocky hall. It wasn’t as perfect as the hidden entrance to their den, but as far as he knew, not even his dama had discovered this particular hiding place.
Two more turns through near-perfect darkness, and he unerringly reached for where he kept regularly-refreshed lamps, turned a switch, and slitted his pupils against the low light that flooded his hidden cave.
The scrape against stone had set the wound in his back to stinging, so he went directly to the cabinet he’d long ago fashioned out of fallen branches and sticky vines, digging out one of the nanite shots he’d so carefully stored. Hunters learned by failing just as much as succeeding in their early stalking of prey, and better to be prepared with a cache of nanos than bleed to death because some desperate creature got in a lucky blow.
He held the shot in one hand and leaned sideways against the wall, ignoring the flare of pain from his rib as he twisted back to get the claws of his free hand dug around the hard nugget of metal in his back. Breathe, tear, hiss, press the shot against his leg. He stood there, staring at nothing, pushing through as pain and healing chased each other through his body.
He told himself to go and get a container of water to drink, but instead dropped to the ground, curled into a defensive circle, and let consciousness go once more.
* * *
When Blade woke, he rolled to his feet, testing his range of motion. Stiffness, a hint of dull pain, but no catch to his breath. He opened the cabinet again for rations and drank half the stored water without regret. As he ate, he considered his whirling thoughts when he had left den and siblings behind. While he could tell now that some of his decisions had been motivated more by emotion than actual knowledge, he was sure of his realization—Dirrys had been behind this. It had to be either Whispering Fear or High Canopy that
had moved against them, and High Canopy had fewer off-world contacts and less on-planet resources. Dirrys’s momentary lapse of control at council reinforced his decision that Whispering Fear was the leading contender—and was the target to aim himself toward. Of course, he couldn’t simply accuse their volatile dama, nor was there any public recourse given his clan’s destruction.
No, he thought to himself, fur prickling up on his arms in pleasure, nothing public. He would hunt, as he always had. Invade their den, learn their secrets, and confirm who had brought this chaos to their door. And then, destroy them, root to crown.
His claws itched to bury themselves in blood and meat, but he sat, curling his tail close around himself, eating calmly. He considered what he had to do and cut away the damaged fur on his side and back, adapting it to the shapes other clans favored. He must disguise himself—Cunning Blade of Night Wind would never make it to Whispering Fear’s den, nor far into the city. Disguises were below Hunters, but in the service of this particular prize, he would be a fool to put pride over necessity.
A story. He would be someone else, a Hunter who knew nothing of clan politics, of hatred for a dama of his own kind, of plotting the downfall of an ancient clan and burying its den in death.
This time when he slept, it was with the boneless satisfaction of one who knew his business.
* * *
Flame desperately wanted to look back the way Death and Susa had gone, but she knew if she saw even a hint of them she would abandon Tamir in an instant and leap after her sibling and molly. As she knew just as strongly what a terrible idea that was, she maintained her awkward pace, quintessence pulled close, undetectable in the bounty hunter’s footsteps as they approached the station from which the Human had so recently arrived. The shuttle should still be there—at the very least, it was their best option, and Flame had no other ideas. After a lifetime of nesting plans under plans to adapt quickly when reality twisted around her, this lack of options felt like stepping off solid ground and plummeting through every layer of the jungle canopy.
Two Hunters appeared in front of the station. Neither had been there a moment ago, and Flame, lost in an obsessive attempt to decide what to do if the shuttle had been called back, reared back. Had they been lying in wait, under lightbending? The long, low building of the transfer station had been built seamlessly from metal to discourage any jungle creature from attempting to nest, which removed hiding places for even the cleverest Hunter. Hunters wouldn’t be in their quintessence fields at an outlying station, on this night, for no reason.
Flame spared a thought for Death. Her sister should have been safe from attack. They should have let her alone as long as she carried young. Everyone had to have known—Reow had registered her as the clan’s heir. That could only mean one thing, to take such an official step. So, she should have been safe, protected by the miracle of the lives she was growing.
But they’d attacked Death anyway. Targeted her, which could only mean the clan as a whole was to be wiped out. If they’d attack a pregnant damita, the clan Heir, Flame knew her own life carried no value at all. Why were strangers here? For nothing good, so Flame remained invisible, close to the Human’s steps.
“Human,” one of the Hunters said with a purr, while the other vanished again. Flame wondered if others crouched nearby, hidden in their bent light. Not many were as skilled at stealth as she, but there were some. It was possible she and the bounty hunter were vastly outnumbered here. Unlikely, but possible. She tensed low to the ground, poised to move, and hoped the Human would proceed carefully.
“Depik,” Tamir replied levelly. “My business here is complete.” Unspoken but clear, they had no business interfering in her execution of Peacemaker orders.
“Are you taking anyone with you?” the visible Hunter asked, studying his claws, tail flicking idly.
“My business here is complete,” Tamir repeated, tone hardening.
“And does that business supersede mine, on my own planet? You are far from the city, Human. Helping a criminal under interdict would not help you.”
Susa had told her, but here, from this uncaring stranger, the word interdict struck her so hard she nearly stumbled. At the same moment, Tamir startled slightly, glancing down, looking for something that wasn’t there. Perhaps the invisible Hunter had crossed over to brush against her, intimidate her—Flame had played the same game before, but for the moment she didn’t care. They’d declared her clan anathema. Her life was forfeit, not just here in this moment, but on all of Khatash. Anywhere a Hunter found her. Her life, her littermates,’ that of anyone claimed by Night Wind. Two unfamiliar Hunters, lying in wait for them, made it real in a way the attack and Susa’s words had not.
Belatedly, Flame realized these other Hunters were making clear they could become invisible—even if the manner of it wasn’t obvious, they would never do such a thing unless they intended that the Peacemaker’s bounty hunter never left Khatash. She wondered why she had taken so long to put it together, and cursed herself for an addled kita. She had to focus. She knew better than this.
With a small shake of impatience, Flame moved away from Tamir, keeping her quintessence field tight. She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. Listened, breathed, and reached to grab the Hunter she knew had to be there. Luck gave her a firm grasp, and she followed up with skill, wrapping around him fast and hard. Cutting off his air before he could make a sound. As soon as he went limp, she sprang away, leaving him to crumple to the ground, visible in unconsciousness, but apparently untouched. She was fairly certain he’d live. She was absolutely certain she didn’t care.
While his partner stared at the newly revealed body, she bounded across the distance between them, wrapping closely against him before he could react.
“My life is already forfeit,” she snarled low, directly in his ear. “What do you think will keep you safe from my claws?”
“Do you dispute the Peacemaker’s authority here, Hunter, or may I go?” Tamir might not have understood what was happening, but she was adept enough to react, keeping her tone neutral even as her body tightened slightly.
The pause lengthened between them.
“I do not dispute,” he choked out. “Go.” As soon as the words were out, he collapsed, and between one breath and the next, Flame appeared, standing over him.
Tamir visibly jumped, but they didn’t have time for an explanation. They had to get off-planet, if Flame were to have any chance to figure out why any of this had happened.
Flame stopped only long enough to survey the two fallen Hunters, then twitched her tail dismissively. After a moment, she pulled her quintessence field close around her again, disappearing, and ran through the station and into the shuttle ahead of Tamir.
“Anyone on Khatash will be able to scan and see you have a Hunter signature with you,” she said as Tamir caught up and sat at the controls, “but it is custom to ignore a Hunter they can’t identify, when she is invisible. Custom and your status on a Peacemaker warrant should carry us through.”
“You know,” Tamir managed in a conversational tone, “it’s weird to hear a voice floating from a body I can’t see.”
“Pretend I’m the comms,” Flame said, voice flat in dismissal. “You talk to disembodied voices all the time.”
“Not ones that can kill me on a whim.”
“You just saved my life.” Disgust ran through her, and she didn’t bother to keep it out of her tone. “Do you consider Depik stupid? Why would I squander that just to kill you before I’m off-planet?”
“Why get you off the planet if you’ll kill me in space?”
“Humans.” Flame spat, pacing on silent feet. She glanced at the screen before resolutely ignoring the sight of her home receding behind them. “Killing you serves no purpose for me. You didn’t lead that attack on my clan.”
“I did not. Whoever did seemed perfectly happy for me to die alongside you.”
“Yes.”
“Who do you think did it?”
“Whatever truly happened between Dama and the Peacemaker, the attack happened too quickly after we saw the video. Someone knew before we did in order to have a plan in place.”
“How else were the probes programmed?” Tamir stared at the controls in front of her, though the course to the suborbital station was locked in and there was nothing she needed to do. Flame supposed that was easier on a Human than glancing around for a Hunter she couldn’t see.
“Someone knew something they couldn’t have. Unless they did it. Planned to kill Dama and the Peacemaker, and knew they had to wipe us out so we wouldn’t find them.”
“But here we are.”
“There’s more here; more than it appears. Has to be.”
“Peacemaker Hrusha sent me here for a reason.” Tamir might have been convinced, or convincing herself; her tone was thoughtful. Flame wished the Human’s voice weren’t so neutral, giving her something to take offense to, something to provoke an attack. No, she knew that was stupid and short-sighted. If the Human were going to betray her, she would have done so already. Unwilling or no, they were all the other had for the moment.
“So, we find who did this and why.”
“And then?”
This was a job more important than any contract, and who better to complete it? Dama had named her, and taught her, to be who she was—silent. Patient. Matchless in waiting, able to avoid notice and bring death with impossible accuracy. Whoever had done this to Reow, to their family…
“We end them, as they tried to end us. It’s only a matter of time.”
