by Cait Ashwood
Dad was right. This city needs us. It was led by scared old women who resisted any attempt to dethrone them, even if that meant leaving the entire city vulnerable to outside forces. If only the people knew they had the numbers. Groves were different underground. True trees were rare, with the Groves commonly made up of a species of giant mushroom. They could eject deadly spores, but their range was limited, as was the number of their spores. Provoke the Order into deploying early and wait it out, then they could move in and dethrone them with impunity. Instead, they need us.
Stryker’s eyes remained on the corpse. The man’s only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could have been trained up, might have even made a valuable ally in the future, someone from the city that other residents would respect. That gives me an idea. Stryker leaned out over the wall, catching the attention of one of his men further down the wall. The signal was passed along the length, and soon enough his location was swarming with men riding their giant lizards.
Feeling a bit short, he glanced at his own lizard. He hadn’t thrown the corpse of the guard over the wall yet, and apparently that gave tacit permission for his lizard to consume the man. The beast was short-tempered when it came to interfering with his meals, and had, in fact, killed his last rider. Stryker turned back to his men, hoping they could all hear him.
“Here, boss.” One of his scouts dismounted and handed him the reins.
Stryker nodded his thanks at the man and swung up into the saddle, then got his feet under him and stood on the beast’s back. “Taking a city isn’t as simple as overwhelming them with force. If we are to have an uncomplicated rule here, we must appeal to them, man to man.”
Several of his men nodded and a few shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
Stryker turned to the man that had surrendered his mount. “Have you verified the reports? The other two shifts are in their barracks?”
The scout straightened. “Yes sir, that’s correct.”
“And the bars are on the outside of the rooms, as reported?”
The scout seemed to catch on to his plan, a glimmer lighting up his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Lock them in. We don’t need them dead. The people will respond better to some of their own policing them than dealing entirely with a foreign power.” Going against his orders felt much better than he’d anticipated, damned near euphoric, even.
“Sir?” The question came from a veteran, one of the men he suspected his father had saddled him with to ensure this sort of departure from their orders didn’t occur.
“It’s my order, Will.” The man giving the orders wasn’t always the best or the brightest, but the one willing to accept the responsibility for their actions. Stryker’s implication was clear and the man shrugged.
“Secure the remaining guardsmen. They should only have around sixty men left, and they’re unmounted. The Order is paranoid, so all arms and armor are kept separately. Ten of you at each door should be sufficient to detain them should any attempt to escape.” He paused, surveying his men. No sign of revolt. Good. Being told you were in command was one thing. Actually having men follow your orders in the field was another beat altogether. “Move out.”
Two hours later, the main body of their forces reached the entrance to the caldera, the hollowed-out cavern the Dwellers used as their home. Daylight from miles above them filtered down so the place wasn’t occluded with the typical pitch darkness of underground. Zaddicus and Vex rode at the front of the column, staring out at the city before them. Stryker watched them from the walls, anxiety pooling in his gut. He’d never gone against a direct order before, but stood ready to defend his decision.
Being a half-blood, he could feel the taint from his father sliding over his skin like a second blanket. Soon enough, the man’s voice was in his head.
Are the walls ours?
Yes, father.
Good. Open the gates. We’ll slaughter their protectors in the streets.
Stryker hesitated. They’re all currently under lock and key, sir. I’ve barricaded them in their barracks and posted guards.
Zaddicus’ reply took longer to come. You didn’t have the belly for killing, then? The derision was obvious even through the mental link.
Stryker narrowed his eyes at the accusation. We killed the men on the wall, as ordered. But the rest of the guard might prove useful in keeping the peace in the days to come.
His father’s answer was swifter this time. We shall see. Open the gates.
Sir.
And hold the wall. I trust you can do that much correctly?
He didn’t bother replying to the last remark, instead taking a torch from outside the nearest guardhouse and plunging it into a dish of oil, lighting a signal fire. According to scout reports, it was the Dweller’s signal of a threat approaching the city. For his men, it was the command to open the gates.
Why do they even have gates in the first place? The only predators underground were the lizards, which were partly domesticated. They had secured the beasts the day before on their approach to the city, killing the few guards there and posting men of their own. What threat would necessitate a city with walls and gates? Unless it’s to keep people in, not the other way around? The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The wall didn’t exist to protect them from anything, but if the people thought it did, they’d be too afraid to venture beyond the city limits. It was all calculated for effect, much the same way Zaddicus ran things.
Chains rattled as his men raised the portcullis. Zaddicus and Vex led the column of their forces forward at a stately pace, each man maintaining position with drilled precision. The warning signals on the walls were all lit, but the city didn’t seem to be responding. Stryker kicked his borrowed beast into action, rising in his saddle as the lizard picked up speed and leapt from the ramparts to the side wall of the caldera. It gained altitude and then leapt again, snapping its legs out to the side and allowing the leather flaps to expand and catch, giving Stryker a bird’s eye view of the city.
It looked more like a ghost town. They’d found a few of those on their way through the tunnels, settlements that had been abandoned throughout the ages. It took a bit for Stryker to be able to see the pale faces staring out of the windows. What made the situation eerie, however, was the total silence. The only sound was that of armor clinking in rhythm in the distance. Not a child cried, no person cried out for another. They waited with silent anticipation and wide eyes, a people accustomed to living in terror.
This is why we’re here. This is what we’re going to end. When we take over, people can laugh, they can cry. They can raise families as they see fit because we have links on the surface and can feed them all. They can begin to live their lives. Our rules will be less than this Council they’re enslaved to. Pride filled his chest as he wheeled his mount back toward the wall to be with his men.
He watched Zaddicus lead the march into the unresisting city. They flew no banner, but needed none. They all rode with strict discipline on giant lizards and wore matching armor. The only men not facing forward were the men on the outer edge of the columns, who had their eyes turned outward for danger or opposition. Everything was progressing according to plan.
Except--was a column splitting off? A portion of the rear guard was indeed splitting off from the main chain, moving around the outer edge of the city toward the city guard barracks. Stryker spurred his mount into motion, scrambling to arrive before the column. He was half-way across the city from them.
He made it just after the column, in time to hear the conversation below him.
“Commander Stryker ordered us to hold the men, not release them.”
Stryker tried to identify the voice. Most of his more trusted men hadn’t been picked for his advanced force, a fact not lost on him. He’d gotten to know a few of them on the march here. While this voice was familiar, he couldn’t pair it with a face or name.
“Zaddicus’ orders. The men are to be marched before the Gro
ve.”
There was a pause while his man considered the new orders. “All right, then.”
Stryker heard the bar rising and cursed under his breath. He didn’t know what his father wanted with the men, but it wasn’t going to be good. Those men are going to make a huge difference in maintaining order after we take control of the city. He strapped himself into the saddle and fell into the song of the taint, reaching out toward his father to make a connection.
He was repulsed and ignored, unable to breach Zad’s much stronger defenses. He let go of the taint, cursing under his breath. Why did I have to be born a half-breed?
The men of the city guard were poked and prodded out of their barracks, looking more like sheep than fighters. They slowly formed a column with Zaddicus’ men surrounding them on either side. One of Stryker’s men saw him and relayed a signal to the rest of them, who slowly made their way to his position.
“Sir, I’m sorry, it was--”
“My father’s orders, yes.” Stryker sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’re to hold the walls for now and ensure no reinforcements are coming to the aid of the city.” He now saw the assignment for what it was, a tactic to keep him out of the way of whatever Zaddicus had planned.
The men saluted and spread out along the top of the wall, bolstering the fighters already there. Stryker kept his eyes turned inward. The Grove here sat on a plot of elevated land directly under the caldera’s opening where the most sunlight filtered down. He couldn’t see the entire Grove, but it was enough.
The column proceeded toward the Grove, many of the inhabitants watching the soldiers through their windows. By the time the column reached the Grove, several women stood among the mushrooms. A solitary tree stood in the center of the Grove. It didn’t look healthy even to Stryker’s eyes, but there it was.
His father’s men spread out and surrounded the Grove at a safe distance. The mushrooms occasionally grew in the wild, and most people familiar with the tunnels knew to give them a wide berth. Their men weren’t stupid. The women of the Order would attempt to weaponize the mushrooms, but all it would do was delay the inevitable.
A woman stepped forward among the Order, flanked on either side.
I want to hear this. Stryker turned to the veteran that had challenged him earlier. “Will, you’re in command.”
“Sir.” The man nodded and moved on Stryker’s position.
Back on his own lizard, Stryker made for the center of the city, clinging to the walls to avoid detection. They appeared to have exchanged a few verbal volleys, but he finally made it within hearing range.
“You have no name, son of none. You were expelled from our midst many years ago, and have not earned a place among us.”
Zaddicus stared at her a moment and then slowly began to chuckle, a sound that grew into a full belly laugh. Around him, his men began to laugh as well until the sound echoed off the walls in an eerie chant. “Earned, woman? I have earned more than you ever have. All you have done right with your life was to crawl out from between the right set of legs at your birth.”
Damn. Stryker shook his head. He’d underestimated just how much his father hated these women.
The woman’s back went stiff and. “You were my uncle, once, and now you march into my city with armed men at your back. What do you want, Zaddicus, son of my mother’s sister?”
Stryker could see his father’s smile even from his perch on the wall. “You and the rest of the Council are under my command now. You will rule no more, and the people will know freedom from your oppression.”
The woman grinned, her expression smug. “You may have your men, Zaddicus, but you will never rule here. Our guard will--” she faltered.
Stryker looked around and found the column escorting the remaining members of the guard was approaching.
“You were saying, niece?” Zaddicus waited as the members of the guard were placed between the Council and his troops.
She shifted, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
Stryker stared down at the men, dread growing in the pit of his stomach. The way the men were being lined up reminded him of the few instances where Zaddicus had presided over executions in the past. No! We need those men! He reached out for his father and was again repulsed.
Zaddicus waved his hand and the first row of his fighters moved forward, blades slashing across unprotected throats. They moved back and sheathed their weapons, making hardly a sound as the men fell, dead or dying, to the ground.
“Your guard is no more, Emily. Your rule has ended.”
Vex moved up to his side on her peculiarly blue lizard.
“Escort the women back to their quarters, and ensure that their accommodations are to our standards, dear daughter.”
As Vex moved to obey the orders and Zad’s men dissipated to make their way through the rest of the city, Stryker’s eyes never left the faces of the men slaughtered in cold blood, left lying on the floor of the caldera in red pools.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Deuce tucked in the edge of the bandage, securing it around the youth’s arm. “Have you learned your lesson about sneaking real weapons from the armory before you’re cleared to use them?” He stared at the boy, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes, Medic.” The boy looked down, ashamed.
“Good. Come back in the morning and we’ll change that dressing.” Deuce watched the boy as he made his way out of the medic wing. A group of his friends, likely the ones he’d been sparring with, had been waiting outside for him for at least an hour. The boy was already playing up the injury and Deuce shook his head. At least their battles are largely imaginary. Too many times, he’d been called to the aide of the dead and dying. Stitching up sparring wounds may be less exciting, but that was the way he preferred things.
He glanced at the candle on the table. He’d been off duty for half a mark, but had wanted to finish with the boy. He hated handing patients off mid-care. Time to find Amelina and see if she’s had dinner. He’d never envisioned, all those years ago, that the girl he’d been given as a pleasure slave would grow to become his partner. There were days when he still found the expectations of the relationship taxing, but she was the mother of his children. Keeping her happy was as much a duty as his time caring for the injured at the Institute.
He made his way out of the building until the magnetic interferences cleared and he could phase home to the Tower. He kept rooms in both places, as minor emergencies sometimes required him to stay at the Institute longer than necessary. And, to be honest, with a partner and three daughters at home, one of them a teenager, sometimes Deuce needed the peace and quiet.
I should stop in and check on Clover soon. Things had been too new and uncertain when the Order re-established itself on the surface, and Deuce hadn’t wanted to bring Clover to the Tower until he knew it was safe. By the time he was certain, she was old enough that she didn’t want to leave Hallie’s Manse. He’d been okay with that as long as her grandmother lived, but when the woman eventually passed on, he’d made another plea for her to come live with them at the Tower. By then, Leigha and Zoe had been born, and Clover was old enough to begin her apprenticeship. Hallie had sworn to treat her like her own daughter, and so he’d reluctantly accepted her decision. He hadn’t had the luxury of choice in his youth, and it was one thing he’d prefer not to take from his children. While she’d done most of her growing up without him, he still tried to check up on her every now and then. Life as a Seeker had changed so much during her lifetime that he couldn’t blame her for hating him. His daughters with Amelina had the luxury of a father that was there all the time, and Deuce understood why she had no interest in meeting them.
These thoughts in mind, he didn’t immediately notice the absence of people in the Tower’s courtyard. Depending on the time of day, the place could either be swamped or nearly deserted, so he wasn’t alarmed until two figures stepped out from the shadows of the Tower. Medics didn’t go armed at the Institute, their tools generally scalpels and needle
s, not swords. They’d picked his deaf side to make their approach on, meaning that whoever they were, they were at least familiar with him.
He didn’t hear the man dropping from the wall to land behind him, but saw his shadow on the ground in front of him as he fell, landing in a crouch and slowly standing.
“Zeche.” The assassin had always enjoyed theatrics, though they’d never had much occasion before to interact. Deuce made it a point to know everyone operating in his surroundings, and had studied up on Zeche and his tactics as soon as the man had been assigned to protect Audrey all those years ago.
The two men approaching from the tower stepped into the light, revealing them to be Rowan and Jasper. The entire squad is here. But shouldn’t Jasper be at training this time of day? And is that paint on his hands? Jasper hadn’t been excused from training, to Deuce’s knowledge. He glared at the youth. If he was skipping his training to paint just because his father was commander, he was going to have to have some words with Ace.
Rowan spoke since Deuce could actually see him. “We need to speak with you.”
Deuce raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Obviously.”
Jasper stepped forward, apparently trying to shut Rowan up. “We sent half-breeds into the crevasse in search of Lily.”
Deuce nodded; he’d been aware of as much. With Amelina being the acting Advisor to Audrey, he knew more than the average Seeker.
Rowan glared at Jasper. They clearly had some sort of rivalry going on. “Thing is, Zaddicus has up and moved camp. He’s not there anymore.”
What? But where would he--oh. He kept his face carefully schooled as always. It was a skill he had staked his life on many times, and he knew he was giving nothing away. “That’s... problematic.”
