Malicious intent

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Crichell's cheek burned crimson with Vlad's handprint, and blood covered his chin. He made a feeble attempt to strike quickly at Vlad, but the younger man merely melted away from the punch. Crichell kept his fists up and elbows in to protect his body as he closed with Vlad. He was playing the warrior, but the glazed look in his eyes told Vlad and everyone else in the room that his body was responding unconsciously with things he had learned long ago.

  And those lessons were obviously not learned well.

  Vlad darted forward and slapped Crichell again with his left hand, this time across the stomach. Crichell's hands made no attempt to cover his midsection, but instead he grazed a left jab past Vlad's right ear. That brightened the old man's eyes, but only for a second before Vlad slammed his right fist home against the old man's left temple.

  Crichell's knees buckled and his legs turned to water. He dropped to a kneeling position, then sagged back on his heels. His hands fell to his lap and his head lolled on his neck as if it were only balanced there precariously. Vlad knew the man wasn't thinking—he was in shock, both physical and mental. The fight was over.

  It is not over until I decide it is over!

  Vlad prodded him with a toe. "Is that all you have, Elias Crichell? Even Vandervahn Chistu gave me more of a fight. And before that, Ulric Kerensky gave Chistu more of a fight. Can you do nothing more? Are you like all the Falcons—bold in peace and bled in war?"

  Crichell struggled back to his feet. "I am a Jade Falcon. I was a warrior before you were spawned."

  "And I shall be a warrior long after you are dead." Vlad whirled and lashed out with a spinkick that would have taken the older man's head off had the kick not glanced from his shoulder first. As it was, the boot lacing cut the scalp over his right ear, and crimson began to leak into his gray hair. The force of the blow spun Crichell again to the floor, where he rolled to a stop at Marthe Pryde's feet.

  She made no move to help him rise, but neither did Crichell make an appeal for her assistance. Though staggering as he rose to his feet, he looked a bit more clear-headed as he approached Vlad warily. He moved around in a circle, leaving Vlad at the heart of their arena.

  Vlad was content to wait. All the advantages were his. Reach. Skill. Courage. And, above all, hunger. Crichell has come to believe it is his right to be ilKhan, but it is a right he has never earned. The ilKhan must be the warrior of warriors. This man does not fulfill that requirement.

  Crichell closed and threw a torpid right fist at Vlad, who instantly brought his left hand up and caught the fist. He applied pressure for a moment just to watch the pain on the older man's face, then twisted Crichell's hand over, locking the arm and elbow. He brought his own right elbow up and held it poised above Crichell's arm. One quick blow and he'd shatter the locked joint—which was exactly what the other Khans expected of him.

  They winced as his elbow fell, but Crichell's arm did not shatter. At the last moment Vlad whipped his elbow out and around, crashing it against the left side of Crichell's head. As the old man started to go down, Vlad contemptuously watched him fall. Crichell flopped onto his back, blood streaming from his lips and nose. He rocked back and forth, cradling his head in his hands, but made no attempt to rise from the ground.

  Vlad watched as Crichell slowly curled his body into a ball, then the younger man looked up to stare boldly at the rest of the Khans. He read the reactions on their faces, a full spectrum ranging from admiration to outright fear. Osis looked disgusted, while the Nova Cat mystics seemed to have been transported to a whole other plane, as if they were seeing things no one else could see.

  "Behold the leader you have chosen to represent us."

  Lincoln Osis looked away from Crichell. "It is done. He is ilKhan no more."

  Vlad shook his head. "The fight is not over."

  "Leave him, Vlad. He is finished."

  "For the second time you try to give me orders, Lincoln Osis." Vlad took a step forward and delivered a sharp kick to the middle of Crichell's spine. The man cried out, arching his back, then rolled onto it and lay staring up at the ceiling and the man looming over him. "You have forgotten I am a Khan and a warrior, just as Crichell has forgotten what it is to be a warrior. It is time I give you both a reminder."

  Vlad lowered the heel of his boot to Crichell's throat. "A warrior is one trained in the art of killing." He pressed his heel down until Crichell began to gurgle.

  "A warrior is one who kills his enemies without regret." He added more weight until Crichell's voice became a harsh, scratchy hiss and his hands closed around Vlad's ankle.

  "A warrior is one who leaves broken enemies in his wake because he knows the dead can never harm him." Remorselessly Vlad ground his heel into the man's throat until the crackling of bone drowned out the thumps of Crichell's thrashing. He continued to apply pressure, fracturing vertebrae with pops and snaps until even Lincoln Osis turned away. With one final push he forced a last convulsion out of Crichell's body, then he stepped back and viewed his handiwork.

  When he finally looked up, he saw only Marthe Pryde watching him. He imagined it was because she wanted to make certain Crichell was really dead.

  Vlad of the Wards opened his arms above the limp corpse. "Now it is done, my Khans."

  Osis's dark eyes glittered like ice. "You now expect us to elect you in his place?"

  "By no means." Vlad wiped blood from his face with the back of one hand. "This is neither the time nor the place to choose a new ilKhan. Elias Crichell was right about the need for new assessments of Jade Falcon and Jade Wolf strength. It will take a minimum of six months to complete the necessary work."

  The Smoke Jaguar shook his head. "You stand closer to the office now than you will in six months."

  "That, Khan Osis, says more about your lack of imagination than it does my standing. I have been an aide to an ilKhan. I know what the job requires and I have no desire for it."

  "At this time," Marthe Pryde spat out.

  "You may be right, Khan Marthe." Vlad shrugged non-committally. "I do, however, have clear ideas on what must qualify a Khan for that position—and being a warrior in name only is not one of them. Perhaps a delay of six months will give any Khan who harbors ambitions a chance to prove he or she is truly worthy of leading us."

  Ian Hawker pounded a fist on his desk. "Six months is reasonable, more would be prudent."

  Marthe looked at Kael Pershaw. "Loremaster, tally the vote."

  The Khans agreed to a delay, with no dissent. Vlad nodded grimly, then tugged on the green mantle he wore until it came loose. "One last thing, my Khans. I hereby create a new Clan. I consign everyone who was a Jade Wolf to it." He tossed the green mantel down onto Crichell's mangled face. "We are, once again, Clan Wolf."

  Hawker looked up. "There is a verdict of genocide against your Clan."

  "Those Wolves are dead. We are a new breed of Wolves. You will find us quite similar to those you once knew, but to mistake us for them would be a grave error."

  Silence was the only answer to Vlad's words. He looked around the room, willing to accept any challenge, but none came. Lincoln Osis met his stare for a moment, then dismissed it with a curt shake of his head.

  Vlad clapped his hands once. "I would say, then, that our business here is concluded."

  Marthe Pryde moved to the door and opened it. The Khans filed out of the room in Pershaw's wake. Then the door closed behind them, leaving only Marthe Pryde and Vlad staring at each other above Crichell's body.

  "His death was not necessary for you to win your challenge."

  Vlad watched her carefully. "You do not regret his death. Perhaps you wished to be the instrument of it."

  "Was your charge of concealing evidence of Chistu's crime true?"

  "It was. The evidence is worthless now, though I will make a copy available to you, if you so desire."

  "Yes." Marthe looked down at Crichell. "His fate should have been decided by the Jade Falcon Clan Council. That evidence would have unseated him. We woul
d have dealt with him."

  "Perhaps."

  Anger flashed through her blue eyes. "You doubt our honor?"

  "I doubt the list of crimes for which you would have punished him would have matched the list of crimes he committed against me."

  "Crimes against you?"

  "He bargained in bad faith and denied me my Clan." Vlad shook his head. "Even greater than that was his stupidity."

  "What do you mean?"

  The Wolf leaned back against his table. "When I first came to Elias Crichell, he asked what I would do if he denied me my due. He knew I would kill him for it."

  Marine's eyes narrowed. "But in denying you the Wolves, he saved you from death."

  Vlad laughed aloud. "That was his mistake, wasn't it?"

  "There is no need for vulgarity, Vladimir Ward."

  He was surprised when she bristled at the use of contractions. "Are you that rigid, Marthe?"

  "I respect the way of the Clans."

  "You cling to a past that saps your strength and makes your Clan feeble."

  "We defeated the Wolves, quiaff?"

  "That depends on who is keeping score. The Falcons beat only part of the Wolves. And you won here on Wotan only because of treachery. Phelan Ward humiliated the Falcon warriors that were sent after him—and even your own warriors have admitted that Inner Sphere mercenaries defeated them." He pointed at Crichell. "Your ways produce imitation warriors."

  "He was not a true Jade Falcon warrior." Vlad let himself chuckle. "Ah, a display of the famed Pryde pride."

  "Better that than Wolf hubris."

  "Hubris?" Vlad shook his head. "Better to be bound for a fall than to have already suffered one, Marthe. Your ways and your actions form a paradox you cannot resolve. If the old ways were so good, so true, then you would not have embraced new technology. You would be fighting with the 'Mechs of the Inner Sphere, and losing to Inner Sphere warriors even more often than you did in the invasion."

  Her hands convulsed into fists. "Use of new tools does not warp tradition."

  "And what are tactics but tools, Marthe?"

  "Tactics are based upon tradition and honor—murder would be pragmatic, but we restrain ourselves from that."

  "Chistu did not."

  "And he was a fool! Had I known what you knew, I would have challenged him and killed him. He was more of a threat to the Jade Falcons than either you or the Inner Sphere. I would have dealt with him. And I would have dealt with Elias Crichell."

  "Unable to compete, the outdated devour each other in an orgy of recrimination!" The Wolf forced a huge smile on his face. "You should find a more constructive outlet for your frustrations."

  A calm consumed the anger on her face, and Vlad felt a cold chill as she spoke. "I have found such, little Wolf. The ways of Crichell and Chistu were not the true way of the Jade Falcons. I know this, and I will prove it. You will see, as will all the rest, that our tradition makes us strong."

  "You will have to do much to prove that to me."

  "And I shall." Her eyes sharpened. "I shall begin by granting you hegira."

  Shock and outrage thundered through Vlad's brain. "You what?"

  "It is the right of the victor to allow the vanquished safe passage."

  "The Wolves were never defeated by the Jade Falcons."

  "Ah, but they were. Your fight only repudiated the Absorption, not the outcome of the Trial of Refusal." Marthe regarded him through half-lidded eyes. "You may make any claims you want about your Wolves not being Ulric's Wolves, but you and I know there is no difference. I grant you hegira because you were beaten. Accept it. It is a, tradition that has value, though you do not see it."

  Vlad almost snarled at her, but her last words burrowed through his anger at her presumption. The traditions of the Clans are the foundation of all that we are. In denying this one I would distance myself from our way just as Crichell and Chistu had. Going to war again right now would be stupid. She knows it, just as she knows I would have left Wotan gladly and peacefully. By offering hegira she seeks to remind me that the Jade Falcons are worthy of respect.

  What I remember is that I must find a way to pay her back. A traditional way. Vlad nodded. "I accept hegira and will leave Wotan at the earliest opportunity."

  "Good." She pointed at him. "This is the last you will see of me for a while, Vladimir Ward, but I will keep you informed of my activities. I will not tell you everything, of course, but enough that you will know I am the rightful leader of the Jade Falcons."

  "I wish you luck, Marthe Pryde."

  "I would not, if I were you."

  "No?"

  Her smile failed to ease the chill sinking into Vlad's heart. "In six months or eight or whenever we are called to Strana Mechty to elect a new ilKhan, the other Khans will know how weak or strong we are. At the least sign of weakness, we can expect another Clan will attempt to absorb us. I know a way to prove the Falcons strong, and I will use it. I wonder what you will do to prove that your Clan is hearty and able."

  She turned to walk away, then glanced back over her shoulder. "Fare well, Vlad Khanslayer of the Wolves, but not too well. I do not look forward to having you as a rival in the future."

  "I can imagine you would not."

  Marthe laughed once, then shook her head. "Then again, perhaps I will enjoy it."

  BOOK II

  Blood, Sweat and Tears:

  Misery, Treachery, and All Our Fears

  11

  Tharkad City Tharkad

  District of Donegal, Lyran Alliance

  5 January 3058

  Tormano Liao bowed respectfully in the direction of the Archon of the Lyran Alliance. He smiled at her, more because she expected it than out of consideration for her beauty. And he did consider her beautiful—though his personal tastes ran more toward Asian women than tall, lithe ones with icy blue eyes and long blond hair. The smile let her think that her physical appeal gave her an edge over him.

  And I must never let myself underestimate her because of her beauty. "Archon, I have completed my survey of reports coming from Clan space and have a summary for you."

  Katrina Steiner waved Tormano to one of the white leather wingback chairs around her desk. "I have read some of the reports. We can compare conclusions."

  "Indeed, Archon." Tormano settled himself in the chair and tugged at the crease of his dark trousers as he sat back. He'd done it to buy himself another moment or two of peace, but the distant look in her blue eyes told him the subterfuge was unnecessary. She is lost in thought, which does not bode well for what I have in mind. Then again, perhaps she is thinking of nothing more adventurous than redecorating again.

  In the three weeks since Tormano had come to Tharkad, Katrina Steiner had completely redone the Archon's office, stripping out all the dark woods and antique furnishings, replacing them with deep carpeting, stark white furniture, and synthetic laminates covering the walls, her desk, and shelves. Little splashes of color appeared here and there, but anything meant to reside in the office for long tended to be plated in gold or tinted in a very light shade of Steiner blue. Even Katrina's silk suit was white over a royal blue blouse and accented with gold jewelry.

  Tormano was uncertain why she'd made these changes. The press release put out by the Interior Ministry had used the word "virginal" to describe the color of the decor, and Tormano did understand enough about religion and Lyran folklore to realize that white symbolized purity and virtue. For him—a product of the more Asian culture of the Capellans—white was the color of mourning and he found the room cold and clinical.

  "Archon, the reports coming out of Wotan are, at best, confused and confusing, but combined with reports from throughout the Jade Falcon Occupation Zone, and reports from Morges, we've been able to piece together the story. Apparently, the Jade Falcons and the Wolves recently went to war with each other. The reason for the conflict is unclear, but seems to have centered around a power struggle for leadership of the Clans as a whole."

  "A strugg
le between the Crusaders, who want to repudiate the truce and continue the war against the Inner Sphere, and the Wardens, who want to halt the invasion."

  Tormano nodded. "You seem to have a good grasp of Clan politics, Archon."

  Katrina smiled sweetly. "I have had occasion to speak with Khan Phelan Kell about such, and the Precentor Martial has been equally generous in sharing his thoughts on the subject."

  "Indeed. The situation on Wotan involved a last-ditch effort by the Wolves to destroy the Jade Falcons. They failed, or so it seems, when ilKhan Ulric Kerensky was killed in Borealtown on the tenth of last month. Almost immediately all signs of Clan Wolf vanished—it appeared that all the surviving Wolves had suddenly become members of the Jade Falcons. Then, almost as quickly, a Wolf challenged and killed one of the Falcon Khans. Subsequent to that a new Clan, the Jade Wolves, made an appearance."

  The Archon plucked a gold letter opener from her desk and tapped it against the blotter. "The death of that Khan liberated the Wolves, at least partially, from the Falcons."

  "So it would appear. By the first of the year the Khans of the other Clans had arrived at Wotan. The various intelligence services of the Inner Sphere had expected the Clansmen to return to their homeworlds to elect a new ilKhan, as they had done before, but I think the arrival of these Khans may have been for the purpose of staging such an election on Wotan. We are not privy to what went on in their council, but certain external clues suggest another upheaval. Signs of the Jade Wolves have vanished and the Wolves appear to have reemerged as a Clan."

  "Significance?"

  "Unknown at this point, Highness." Tormano shrugged. "We can speculate that both the Wolves and the Jade Falcons were hurt by their war. Reports of the damage done on Morges to the Jade Falcon force are impressive. If those attrition figures hold true for other worlds where the two Clans engaged each other-—and scattered reports support this conclusion—the Wolves and the Jade Falcons have both suffered severe losses."