by K. F. Breene
“Do you all have guards?” Shanti asked, putting away her sword and touching her knives in preparation.
“Just me,” Molly said, looking around the room frantically. Her eyes fell on the map. Panic shed from her in waves.
“Clear this away!” Eloise struggled to get up, gesturing at the map as well as the cups. “Clear everything away. Hide, everyone—”
The handle to the door wiggled. With the lock engaged, the door held. A fist pounded against the wood.
“Hide!” Eloise seethed, hobbling toward the lit candles. Her body was too old to sit for long and then move with any sort of grace.
Cups clinked as women grabbed them. One wobbled toward the edge of the table, then fell, shattering on the floor. Tabby froze, staring at the mess with wide eyes.
“Hurry!” Another woman grabbed the map, crinkling it. Rocks scattered across the floor.
The pounding sounded again, angry and insistent. “Open this door!” a man shouted.
“There’s no time!” Eloise waved her arm, trying to scatter everyone with the movement.
All the women disappeared into the rooms, except for one. The younger woman who had had such great insight with the Hunter dashed toward the mess, sweeping the remnants of the mug under the couch with her foot. A smear of liquid glistened on the dull wood floor.
“Go!” Eloise walked toward the door, giving a last pause to look behind her as Shanti and Rohnan melted into the shadows within the room. The older woman flicked the lock and pulled the door open. A current of chilled air sliced through the room.
“Where are they?” the man berated.
“I don’t know what you mean. Where are who? I was just up for a cup of tea. I can’t sleep well these days. Old bones, you know.”
“Get out of the way!”
Eloise’s body jolted backward, and then fell, the woman sprawling on the ground with a grunt. Her head thunked off the floor, a sound like a bouncing melon. “There’s no one here!”
A grizzled Graygual crossed Shanti’s vision, striding into the house like he owned it. His gaze swept the area, pausing on the low table and immediately finding the fragments of the teacup. His eyes darted around the room. “The Hunter won’t be happy knowing you filthy women are meeting in secret. He’ll cut that right out. Toss one of you on the whipping post.”
“I dropped that cup when you banged on the door.” Eloise climbed painfully to her feet, wincing as she straightened up. A small trickle of blood dripped down her temple.
The Graygual noticed the rocks, and then walked toward the kitchen. “Where are they?”
“I don’t—” Eloise cut off with the woman’s shriek from the kitchen. Then another.
The Graygual walked into the living room again, his fingers curled around two fistfuls of hair. Tabby already had tears in her eyes, the other, a younger woman, had a crease between her brow, her large brown eyes sparkling with anger.
He flashed Eloise a malevolent grin, jerking his hands. Both women’s faces screwed up in pain as their necks wrenched. “How many are you hiding?”
“I’m here.” Molly walked out from the bedroom, her head high and her expression determined. Shanti could feel both her bravery and terror. “You came for me. I’m already watched by the Hunter for causing trouble. Take me. They were just trying to talk me into behaving.”
The Graygual’s grin turned sickly. He shook his right hand. The younger woman gritted her teeth, agony emanating from her. “The Hunter uses this one to keep that stubborn mule in line. What would he say if she is secretly plotting, I wonder? He’d be suspicious, methinks. And when that man is suspicious, people give answers, or they lose limbs…”
A shape rushed forward, swift and graceful. A loud crack sounded through the pregnant silence, followed by thuds as different points of the Graygual’s body slapped the floor.
“He’s really good at snapping necks,” Gracas mumbled in awe.
“Disgusting, but useful.” Leilius gulped and moved to the window. He’d always hated enacting violence. But then, so had Rohnan. In times of war, a person killed or was killed. There was very little middle ground.
The other women in the room stared down at the Graygual with wide eyes, their gazes stuck to the unnatural angle of his neck. Tabby retched.
Rohnan bent to check his handiwork. “Dead. We’ll put him with the other.”
Eloise shook herself, still braced against the wall. She recovered first. “That’s going to be a problem.”
Molly came out of it next, joining Leilius at the window and looking out. “No, it’ll be fine. He wasn’t well liked. I’ll just tell the guard taking his place that this one took off a little early. He’s done it before. It’ll give us a day.”
“Oh my God!” One of the women swooned from the doorway of the bedroom. She staggered into the wall.
The women who was a self-proclaimed expert at dicing pigs caught her, rolling her eyes. “He would’ve made sure the Hunter strung us up for this. That pretty man did the right thing.”
“We killed another on the way here,” Shanti said, standing in the middle of the room. “We need to make some decisions.”
“Is there a way to get a note to the Captain?” Rohnan asked the women.
Eloise painfully lowered herself onto the couch. She put her ankle on the table. “There is a trading party that leaves in a few days.” She leaned back and squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s the soonest.”
“A few days?” Shanti blew out her breath. That wasn’t soon enough. “We need to figure out how to get the prisoners free.”
“Without more people with the Gift, fighters will be useless.” Rohnan straightened up. “Maybe we should sneak back out.”
“And then what, Rohnan?” Shanti fisted her hands and released, then again, just to let out some pent-up frustration. “We can’t pretend we never came. The Hunter knows Cayan is there, even if he doesn’t think I am. He’ll want Cayan and his men to hand themselves over. If they don’t, the Hunter will force his hand.”
“Force his hand… In what way?” the younger woman asked, standing behind the dead Graygual with an intent expression.
“The Hunter often slaps Alena around to get Lucius to cooperate,” Molly explained.
Shanti looked at the attractive woman with a firm gaze. “You show great bravery to stand against the Hunter when you’ve seen his tactics.”
The woman slumped just a little before straightening back up, her chin raised. She shrugged. Shanti could feel the strength in her character and her dogged determination. She was afraid—they were all afraid—but they were pushing through it.
“It’s clear the women of this city are just as courageous as the men,” Shanti said quietly. Her voice cut through the silence. “And that is saying something.”
“Told you,” Ruisa mumbled.
All the women in the room moved in some way, some straightening up, some shifting in embarrassment, and some puffing out their chests in pride. Courage bolstered. These women were fighters, and now they were being given their chance to prove it.
Rohnan smirked. “Chulan didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Have what? A solid backbone?” The woman who terrified pigs harrumphed. “I’ve given birth three times to giant babies. I can endure a whole lot more than those army men can, I’ll tell you that!”
“Okay,” Shanti said firmly. It was time to get to business. “Get that poison distributed as far and wide and as quickly as you can. Take only the smallest risks. Do not get caught.” The women’s expressions hardened. Most nodded, taking in that command. “Try to figure out how our guys are imprisoned, and how we can get them out. They’ll help with the Graygual. Rohnan and I will need to figure out what to do about the Inkna.”
“When we get close to making a move, we can slip a lot of people some harsh poison,” the bold woman, Fabienne said. “That stuff is not pretty, but neither is snapping someone’s neck. So there you go.”
Tabby shivered. “True, I su
ppose.”
“Great. Now—”
“What about him?” Eloise cut Shanti off, pointing to the dead man.
“Chulan and I will take him away and hide him, along with the other. We’ll hope they go unnoticed for now, at least.” Doubt radiated from Rohnan, but he did not let it show.
“We’ll stay with the orphans tonight.” Shanti glanced at Ruisa and received a nod. “Tomorrow, I’ll want to roam the city as much as possible. So I’ll need a disguise.”
“A proper dress is all you need,” the pig killer said.
“And some die for your hair. Blond will stick out, even with a hat.” Molly’s eyes twinkled.
Shanti sighed. “You will finally have your way, Molly. I will willingly dress like a frosted cake.”
“I know just the dress, too. Lots of ruffles…”
“This situation just gets worse,” Shanti mumbled, bending to the body.
Even with the dress, they’d set events in motion with those deaths. It was only a matter of time before the Hunter sprang the trap and locked her inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Kallon stationed himself behind a jagged outcropping of rock, looking down on the winding trail. The Graygual would be climbing up at any moment, trying to follow the path made by Kallon and his people as doggedly as they had for the last couple weeks. This time, though, Kallon wouldn’t run. He and his small band would stay and fight.
It felt good.
“It amazes me that they’re still battering at our shields,” Sayas said as he crouched near Kallon. “They are just draining themselves.”
Kallon glanced behind him, making sure everyone was tucked away into their hiding places. He’d strategically placed them around the trail. As Graygual fought their way in, Kallon would spring the trap, crushing the weaker fighters to pulp. Graygual would then trip over one another, trying to find footing. That would make it easier to cut them down.
Kallon turned back, sword in hand, impatient to finally stand his ground and deliver the deathblow the Graygual deserved. He felt the constant pokes to his shield, and ignored them. The Inkna were no match for the power Kallon had at his disposal, just as the Graygual were no match for the skill. Greater numbers didn’t guarantee victory. Not when the defenders were Shumas.
“Your ego is too big,” Mela said in a feminine hum, feeling his confidence. “When we see the Chosen, she’ll work on beating it out of you.”
“I have to make sure it is greater still, then, haven’t I?” Kallon’s grip tightened on his sword. “She is probably fat and lazy by now. I’ll need to give her a large job so she can get back in shape.”
“Fat and lazy.” Sayas nodded. “That sounds like the Chosen I remember, yes. Fat, lazy, and full of sweetness. Fits her personality exactly.”
“I wouldn’t mind picking on Rohnan again,” Tanna said with a smirk. “Goading him into fighting is one of my joys. Or was.”
“Until he threw you flat on your back.” Sayas laughed.
“That started a different pastime that was just as fun.” Tanna’s voice colored with humor. “He was always very obliging. I wonder what happened to him. I wonder if he ever found her. She didn’t mention him in the letter…”
Kallon felt his heart squeeze a little. It wasn’t the time to think about who was lost.
The sound of a rock skittering over the sharp cliff to their right cut out the whispers. A moment later, heavy boots reverberated off the rock outcrop, announcing their enemy.
Kallon couldn’t imagine being any louder. This was another example of the Graygual numbers growing too quickly for their resources. He bet this host was stuffed with poorly trained men from conquered lands, either trying to stay safe by joining the powerful, or looking for the riches the Graygual promised. Either way, he doubted an upper-level officer would travel with a group of misfits making as much noise as these were. The harsh punishments along the way would’ve knocked everyone in line, or it would’ve killed them.
Footsteps started to slow. Scuffs and scraps sounded just around the bend. The mental assault pulled back, not battering Kallon and his fighters as hard. The two forces were about to meet. The Graygual would be getting organized.
Kallon focused on his breath, maintaining calm. Keeping his heartbeat regular, feeling his fighting brothers and sisters around him. The bare dirt trail waited for travelers, idle and calm. All noise ground down to a halt. The only sound was the sorrowful whine of the wind through the trees higher on the hill.
Graygual, moving in single file, burst around the bend, running with swords in their hands and grimaces on their faces. Kallon ripped off his Gift’s shield, immediately feeling his fighting brothers and sisters mentally holding hands with him. Just as fast, the Inkna assault tore at his mind, trying to find purchase and rip his life from his body.
Kallon stepped around the rock as he felt Sayas take point with the Gift, creating a complex and potent counterattack. The Inkna wouldn’t last long. He met the first Graygual with a sword strike, catching the enemy in the side. He stepped back, drawing the Graygual in while the men behind him ran on. Mela popped out next as Kallon blocked a strike and then lunged, piercing the Graygual in the chest.
Kallon stepped wider, allowing more Graygual to stream by, some with terror clearly painted on their faces. He hefted a knife, tossed it up, caught it by the blade, and threw. The weapon lodged between the shoulder blades of a Graygual. The man screamed and arched before sinking to the ground, trying to grab at the blade.
Kallon turned, confronted by two Graygual. He snatched out a knife and stuck one in the neck. He yanked and then turned, moving the body in front of him as the man screamed his death. The other Graygual stabbed, hitting his own man before reaching for the shoulder to drag him away from Kallon. Kallon used the momentum. He wrapped his fingers around the man’s wrist and tugged, moving him off balance. He then whipped him around before pulling his blade free and giving it a new home in the chest of this other Graygual.
Before the body hit the ground, Kallon was away again, his sword finding purchase in a stomach.
A knife flew past his head, sinking into a shoulder of an oncoming Graygual. The man flagged before Kallon finished the job.
Another stepped up, a manic grin splashed across his dirty face. Kallon slashed him across the chest before kicking him, knocking him back into the man behind him. He threw another knife, sticking it in a chest as Mela danced forward to dispatch a deathly skinny man.
Another knife sprang out of a neck before blood gushed down the Graygual’s front, and Sayas ran forward to get into the fray. The three of them stabbed and cut, slicing through the enemy as though they were toddlers and weaponless.
Their power surged. A killing strike for the remaining Inkna.
“They are going down too easily!” Mela shouted. “These men are not trained.”
Kallon stuck his sword into a Graygual stomach before grabbing his shirt front and ripping to the side, clearing some room. He stabbed another, just as quickly. Just as easily. Mela was right. This wasn’t an army, it was a badly trained militia.
“Let some through!” Tulous yelled. “You aren’t the only one who wants to avenge our loss.”
Kallon moved backward, seeing Mela and Sayas peel off to the side, following Kallon’s lead. Graygual surged forward, stumbling and jerky. They jogged into the space, tripping over dead bodies and slipping on muddy ground, wet with blood.
As Tulous and the others moved forward to meet the enemy, Kallon took a moment to assess what they were dealing with.
Gaunt faces and sticklike arms badly waving swords caught his focus. Dirty and disheveled uniforms with only one or two slashes hung off malnourished bodies. Shifting eyes full of fear but driven by determination set off warning bells.
This wasn’t the enemy. These men were trapped in a destiny they hadn’t chosen.
“Stop!” Kallon yelled.
Already sensing their defeat, and clearly waiting for death, the Graygual probab
ly figured they had nothing to lose. As the Shumas pulled away, following Kallon’s lead and stopping the assault, the Graygual slowed. One by one, they stilled.
Kallon’s mind whirled. Hardly knowing what he was doing, but somehow feeling the rightness of it, he lowered his sword. The Graygual man in front of him, bearing only a single slash, dirty and afraid, didn’t move forward. He stared as terror polluted the air around him.
“Who is your officer?” Kallon asked in the Graygual language.
The man’s brow furrowed. “Officer…killed,” the man answered in a bad accent. He glanced behind him.
“The officer was killed a few days ago by an arrow,” another man said as he stepped forward. His sword was held tightly in a quivering hand. “We were cutting through a town. Chasing you. A little ways outside, we were ambushed by…townspeople, I think. They aimed for the officer and the other Graygual with at least three slashes on their breast. There were five in all. As soon as the officers were downed, the townspeople scattered. We…kept chasing you. That was our directive.”
“What are you doing, Kallon?” Mela asked in the Shumas language.
“Without an officer to keep you in line, why bother following the directive?” Kallon asked, ignoring Mela. His gaze was rooted to the speaker. “Why not return home?”
The man looked at those around him. His mouth turned into a thin line.
Someone in the back staggered forward. Greasy black hair fell into his sunken eyes. “They will kill our families. I know someone that deserted. When he returned home, his wife and children were hanging there for him. By their necks! His neighbors, too.”
“And your food? Do they not feed you in this army?”
“They’ve been taking the stores in the towns to feed the armies. There are many to feed. We were only called to fight recently.”
Kallon raised his voice, trying to reach them all. “We are not the enemy. We are not the ones starving you, or forcing you to fight. We are not the ones killing innocents. We are trying to stop all of that. The Chosen has come forward. We go to join her. Help us. Free yourselves.”
