Expulsion

by Perrin Briar

  Siren was trailing him on her own horse, keeping up with him every step of the way. She wasn’t going to be of much use in the actual battle, as she was not an overlord, but she understood how people thought. Even overlords were people once. It was for that reason Quinn had allowed her to come with him.

  Although, truth be told, there was no way he could stop her from coming. Siren was a force of nature, and she did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted There was nothing he could do to stop her.

  Within ten minutes, they were at Shipyard, and passed the residents as they hurried into the next town, where the guards were already setting up a defensive perimeter. Their defense would not last long if the other overlord managed to get his hooks in the majority of Quinn’s Undead army. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow that to happen. He had far too much on the line to risk it.

  “What’s he doing now?” Siren said.

  “He attacked, and now he’s just standing there,” Quinn said.

  “And your Undead?” Siren said.

  “I’m bringing them to me now,” Quinn said.

  “In what formation?” Siren said.

  “Just here, as fast as possible,” Quinn said. “We need to defend Arthur’s Port.”

  “No,” Siren said. “We need to beat this guy, without losing too many of our own forces. We might need them later. In case another overlord thinks he can attack us.”

  “Then what do you suggest I do?” Quinn said.

  Siren was silent a moment.

  “By the way he attacked and is defending, I’d say he’s not used to doing this,” she said. “I suggest you defend against his forces, keep them back, while I and some of the guards arc around and attack him from behind. As an overlord, he can’t see us. We’ll take him out, so you can scoop up his Undead and end this attack.”

  “All right,” Quinn said. “But you’ll need to hurry. Once he begins his attack, we’ll only be weakening each other until neither of us have anything left. Why did this need to happen right now? Right when we need to look strong in front of all the other communities?”

  “We can’t help that now,” Siren said. “The important thing is to repel him before he does more harm. Do you know where he is?”

  “Yes,” Quinn said, thinking back through the maps he’d seen of the area. “He’s in the small clutch of woodland a quarter mile in that direction.”

  “All right,” Siren said. “You keep him distracted.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Quinn said. “I think he’s quite capable of keeping himself distracted.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Siren was at the head of half a dozen guards on horseback. She’d elected not to take too many with her. She wanted a small force so she could more easily creep up on the enemy overlord. No living force they possessed was strong enough to take out the other overlord’s army in any case. Only Quinn had a chance of overpowering him now.

  She decided to take a wider than necessary route to sweep up behind the other overlord, traveling half a mile out instead of the half mile Quinn had suggested. Better to sweep up behind him than come at him at too sharp an angle. If he had chosen a small copse of trees to defend from, he would not only be making it difficult for others to see him, but also for him to see others too.

  Siren waved at the guards, who took the order and spread out, forming a wide line. They would run into the copse in this formation to improve their chances of one of them spotting the overlord. They would attempt to take him down with a single blow. It was better not to kill him, but Siren would not risk a single Arthur’s Port resident’s life if it meant killing the overlord faster.

  Siren vaulted over a fallen tree and managed to keep herself on the horse’s back. She checked left and right and would have missed the figure if he hadn’t started turning in her direction.

  She locked eyes on the overlord. He was young and tall, heavily muscled with a wild look in his eye. This was a man she could never bring herself to trust. They both knew what was about to happen.

  Siren spun her horse around in the direction of the overlord. She heard the growl of approaching Undead in the area. She needed to be quick.

  The overlord leaped and rolled to one side, coming up onto his feet. Siren was already swinging her leg over the horse and taking after the man. She swung the knife she drew from her scabbard and slammed it into his ribs.

  The overlord screamed. She knew then that he had lost his control of his Undead army. She had seen the same thing happen to Quinn whenever he got distracted. A knife in the ribs was nothing if not a distraction.

  The overlord stumbled back, unsteady on his feet. The Undead broke through the foliage and growled at Siren as she staggered back. They turned to Siren and nodded. It was Quinn. Telling her it was already over.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The overlord was muscular, strong, and physically very powerful. But in a battle against another overlord, strength didn’t count for a whole lot. It was a man’s will that decided who would win and emerge victorious. He sat with a hand to his ribs where Siren’s blade had cut into him. He didn’t feel pain, but still, it had weakened him.

  Quinn stepped through the foliage to stand before him.

  “Good fight,” the overlord said. “Well played.”

  “What’s your name?” Quinn said.

  “Rustle. You?”

  “Quinn. This is Siren. Why did you attack us?”

  “I thought I could take you,” Rustle said. “Appraising the risks and knowing when things were and weren’t in my favor was never much of a strength of mine.”

  “You like being the underdog,” Siren said.

  “No one likes being the underdog,” Rustle said. “But it helps when you lose, knowing you had always stood a smaller chance of success.”

  “How would you like to be in a position where you always know you were going to win?” Quinn said.

  “I’d love it,” Rustle said. “Why?”

  “Because I’m working on something that might just give you that situation,” Quinn said. “You would have a job to do, lots of fighting and clashes, all of it with the Undead or Raiders.”

  “I hate those creeps,” Rustle said.

  Quinn Sensed a deep well of disdain in the other overlord, but decided not to investigate it.

  Rustle pushed himself up onto his feet. He towered over the both of them. In an instant, he could grab Quinn and tear him to pieces. But Quinn didn’t move, didn’t so much as stir a muscle. If he was dead, all his problems would be well and truly over. He was surprised that, although he didn’t much relish the idea of entering that endless darkness, he would accept it when his time finally came. A man who did not fear death could be a much more dangerous foe.

  “Why not just kill me?” Rustle said. “I might gather my forces and attack you again.”

  “I know a good bet when I see one,” Quinn said. “I know the kind of life you want. One of security and control. It’s the kind of life most people want.”

  “I can’t deny that,” Rustle said.

  “If you’d defeated me, it doesn’t really matter,” Quinn said. “I would be dead and you would have to be the one to make all the big decisions. Believe me, it’s not easy.”

  “I’ll leave that bigger-idea stuff up to you,” Rustle said. “It was never my forte. Now, hammering and smashing. That’s my strength.”

  “What did you do in the old world?” Siren said.

  “I was an MMA fighter,” Rustle said. “Rustle Sanders. I won a few fights here and there. I figured I would use the skills I learned in the past with what I am now… But it doesn’t seem to fit.”

  “Go think about it for a few days,” Quinn said. “If you come back, the offer is still on the table. If you decide not to accept it, that’s fine too. But if I see you here again with an army, and I have to pound your ass again, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

  Rustle looked Quinn in the eye, a smile coming to his lips.

  “I’ll make sure no
t to make that mistake again,” he said. “I had a little voice in the back of my head telling me to come here and attack.”

  “A voice?” Quinn said, ears pricking up. “What voice?”

  “An old man’s voice,” Rustle said. “My voice. I used to think it was my voice, an older version of me or something. But I’m not so sure. I was hearing things. I honestly thought…”

  “You were going crazy,” Quinn said. “I know. But you’re not. You’re perfectly sane. Or, as close as anyone else at any rate.”

  “How are you finding the Shadow?” Rustle said.

  “The Shadow?” Quinn said.

  “The sadness that sweeps over you sometimes,” Rustle said.

  “I call it the Darkness,” Quinn said. “It’s tough.”

  Siren looked at him and turned her head to the side. He had never spoken about it much with her.

  “How long have you been Undead?” Rustle said.

  “A few days,” Quinn said.

  “You’re a baby!” Rustle said. “And yet, still able to beat me in a match. I should be ashamed.”

  “I’ve been an overlord for a while,” Quinn said. “Able to manipulate the Undead. But only the past few days since I can use the broader Undead overlord ability.”

  “Pretty intense, right?” Rustle said.

  “Intense is the right word for it,” Quinn said.

  “It seems to grip deeper the longer I’ve been an Undead,” Rustle said. “Or maybe it’s because I had a larger influence over the Undead? I’m not sure. Then there are the memories. There are so many, sometimes it’s hard to remember which ones are mine and which are someone else’s.”

  Quinn understood that. There were the surprising, beautiful memories, the ones that made life worth living, that made him think about himself and others in a whole new way. A father laying eyes on his firstborn, or a surprise gift for a loved one. For every one of those, there was a gruesome murder or tragic accident. His head was packed with such powerful memories and emotions, so strong they threatened to pull him under.

  Rustle turned and headed away, along with a handful of his favorite Undead. Quinn wouldn’t deny him those. After a while you became attached to some of the Undead.

  Quinn hoped he would see the overlord again. God knew he needed him for the plans he had for the future.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Siren met up with Quinn on horseback. They passed through the town of Shipyard and witnessed the damaged town. Smoke rose from buildings, others rent open like Christmas presents. The locals’ expressions were haunted and broken. They’d lost everything, their homes and livelihood. They didn’t scream or shout. Instead, it was deathly silent. It rung like the condemning slam of a judge’s hammer.

  They would return to their homes, to their job of work. He didn’t know when, but they would recover one day.

  Quinn made himself meet their lost and angry expressions, their hopelessness, let himself feel their pain and anger. Whatever they felt, he would too.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The big meeting with the other community leaders was taking place the following day. Quinn was preparing his notes when he heard a knock at the door.

  “Excuse me, sir,” a guard said. “There’s a young boy here to see you.”

  “A young boy?” Quinn said. “Show him in.”

  Who it might be at this hour, he had no idea, but clearly it had to be something important if the guards bothered to interrupt him with it.

  A small knock followed.

  “Come,” Quinn said.

  A pause before the door cracked open. Quinn put his pen down when he saw who had entered.

  “Dexter,” he said, getting to his feet and joining him at the door. “Please, come in. Come in. What can I do for you?”

  “Some men… from the camps that turned up the other day… They… They…” Dexter said, finding it difficult to explain himself clearly.

  “What did they do?” Quinn said.

  “They attacked some of the Undead,” Dexter said. “On purpose.”

  “Why didn’t I know about this?” Quinn said. “Why didn’t I Sense them?”

  “They weren’t your Undead,” Dexter said. “They were mine. I was practicing what you taught me. They killed them. All of them. Except—”

  “Except your mother,” Quinn said.

  “Yes,” Dexter said. “I used the others to distract the men while she ran somewhere safe.”

  “For that, at least, I am grateful,” Quinn said. “I’m sorry you lost your other… friends. They didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did you. But you should know, people often fear that which they do not understand. That’s why they attacked your Undead, why they always attack things rather than trying to understand them.”

  “I know the Undead aren’t good,” Dexter said. “I mean, without you or me in control of them.”

  “It’s not that they’re not good,” Quinn said. “It’s that they don’t know how to be any different. They have lost their minds. They cannot control themselves.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Dexter said, shuffling foot to foot.

  “Let me take control of her for a moment,” Quinn said. “I’ll tell her to go somewhere safe. Then I’ll hand her back to you. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

  Dexter’s hesitancy was palpable, but finally he handed his mother over. Quinn took her and placed her in the center of his largest horde of Undead. If anyone wanted to get to her, they would have to get through all the other Undead first.

  “There,” Quinn said. “Safe and sound. If you notice that horde moving, make sure to keep her following the others. Can you do that?”

  He knew he could. He only wanted to boost the little guy’s confidence.

  “Good,” Quinn said. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Dexter looked at his feet and kicked them.

  “I was thinking… maybe… I could stay here with you,” he said. “In case someone tried to hurt my mom again.”

  Quinn couldn’t have been more thrilled at the idea.

  “Yes, of course you can,” he said. “You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

  “Okay,” Dexter said.

  He didn’t smile, but Quinn liked to think he could sense some happiness within him. Even if he couldn’t really see it with his Sense or ability. It was more a human trait, what he would have expected someone would feel. Judging by his expression, Dexter’s face might as well have been carved from stone.

  “But I need you to understand, most people do not yet understand about us and what we can do either yet,” Quinn said. “They will learn, but it will take time. It’s better if they don’t know we’re overlords. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “That we shouldn’t tell anyone we can control the Undead,” Dexter said.

  “That’s right,” Quinn said with a smile.

  “Sort of like a secret?” Dexter said.

  “That’s right,” Quinn said. “Our little secret.”

  He called for the housekeeper, who led Dexter in the direction of the bedrooms. Dexter kept looking back over his shoulder at Quinn. He looked afraid and uncertain. Quinn couldn’t blame him. Trying something new was always something to instill fear in a person. Especially when you were what they were.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I noticed Dexter is staying in the keep now,” Siren said.

  “That’s right,” Quinn said. “He came yesterday. One of the communities hunted down some Undead. They turned out to be Dexter’s.”

  “What are you going to do about the community that did it?” Siren said.

  “What can I do?” Quinn said. “There’s no law against attacking the Undead.”

  “There might be in future if our plan works,” Siren said.

  “But there’s not one right now,” Quinn said.

  “This is part of the problem,” Siren said. “How can we convince them to accept working alongside the Undead when they quite ha
ppily go on hunting trips to destroy them?”

  “They will have no choice,” Quinn said. “Eventually, the Undead will destroy them if they don’t.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Siren said. “Humanity has a way of ignoring what is good for them. Sometimes they’d rather cut off their nose to spite their face. It’s what they believe in.”

  “Perhaps some think like that,” Quinn said. “But not all of them. If we can get just one community to do this, and it proves a success…”

  It would be all we’d need to roll it out to the others. Siren understood him loud and clear.

  “And Dexter will be one of the overlords you’d send out with that community?” she said.

  “If he wants the job, yes,” Quinn said.

  “And if he doesn’t want it?” Siren said.

  “Then he’ll stay here,” Quinn said.

  “And you?” Siren said.

  Quinn sighed.

  “Somebody has to go with the community that agrees,” he said. “I don’t want it to be me, but what other choice would I have?”

  “And let Dexter run things here?” Siren said. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. He’s not… old enough to have to deal with such things yet.”

  “He’s more mature than you give him credit for,” Quinn said.

  Dexter was just a child. How could she make Quinn see him for what he was? Parents often saw themselves in their children, and although Dexter was clearly not Quinn’s child, he treated him as if he were.

  And yet, there was something else about Dexter, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something that put her on edge.

  “You need to be careful with him,” Siren said.

  “Careful?” Quinn said. “Careful how?”

  Dexter was a young boy. He was shy, and yet… Siren Sensed something in him. Something that wasn’t quite right… It was the Darkness, she realized. Something beneath the surface, ready to burst and spill forth. It was held in check by sheer will. But how much will did this boy possess?

  “It’s probably nothing,” Siren said. “Probably nothing.”