Blood Royal (Grendel Uprising Book 2)

by Scott Moon

  Snow blew inside of Seccon’s hood. “He might have offended them.” He adjusted it and peered around to check the positions of the Sixth Armored-infantry Lightning Division soldiers. Every SALD unit did their jobs with precise professionalism.

  “A problem for another day,” Sveinn said. “When this journey is finished, I will leave the clan.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Gunnarr believes me to be an outsider. I will leave.”

  “What about your sisters?”

  “They will find husbands. It will be some time before I can support and protect them.”

  Seccon thought rapidly. He hadn’t expected this wrinkle. “Let me accompany you. I can write your chronicles.”

  Sveinn didn’t answer, yet his demeanor was not insulting. Without a mentor, he was still developing command presence that impressed Seccon. Suddenly, all of his decisions seemed right. He wished Casia were here to witness his vindication.

  Dan Uburt-Wesson had no right to usurp the throne from this child. As incredible as it seemed, this primitive world had developed the Blood Royal’s character in a way that promised natural leadership. This was what it meant to live and grow without excessive technology and a broken social class system.

  For the first time in his long career, Seccon actually believed in the concept of the Blood Royal. This boy wasn’t some prince or future kingling; he was a modern-day King Arthur. The land and the people would prosper as he prospered.

  Sveinn watched him sideways as they walked and smiled. “Are you writing my chronicles already, Sangerhinde? Maybe you should wait until I do something.”

  Seccon thought he should laugh, but he was still caught in a powerful epiphany. “That is sound advice.”

  The day passed slowly. It was difficult to tell if the sun was shining or the moon was arching across the velvet night. When it wasn’t snowing, heavy gray clouds glided low and fast like the ghosts of angry dragons and sea monsters.

  Many times, they stopped to rest and adjust the pack harnesses of the animals. Twice, Gunnarr ordered hot meals prepared and consumed. Then, when Seccon quit thinking about his mission or the women in his life, the sky cleared to reveal a valley of blue, green, and white splendor.

  Silver mist retreated from evergreen forests and rivers that cut through foothills. Water dashed around rocks topped with snow and rimmed with moss on the sides. The sun came out. Seccon took a deep breath of hope.

  At the end of the valley were several waterfalls that seemed unreal in their power and beauty. The people of Sky Clan told stories of the magic place ahead of them. Ivar had called it the Valley of Lights.

  The day was old when they reached the water’s edge. Jon Black and his squad led the way around the lake and behind the waterfalls.

  10

  DAY

  FIRST BASE

  GRENDEL 0473829: SURFACE, VALLEY OF LIGHTS 83A1A

  MISSION CLOCK: n/a – FUGITIVE

  Borghild did not recognize the strength of the fortress walls beneath the moss and ancient grime. She didn’t appreciate the height and thickness of the fortifications or understand that the granite had been quarried far away and airlifted to this location. She had no way of understanding that First Base could be sealed against the environment or that the foundation had been cut out of living rock with laser precision.

  Seccon winced as she slapped him again. He continued to walk, but she easily kept pace. Hunching his shoulder against repeated attacks, he struggled to find words that might appease her. How could he explain? Would she even care what was at stake?

  “You care more about Fey and her siblings than me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You despise her, but you still went to save her. That is what I don't understand.”

  “I know you can handle yourself,” he said, wondering if he was speaking to Borghild or the shade of his wife. “I am no good with these types of words. I’ve only known one woman before you.”

  “Then go back to her.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I feel sorry for her. She must be mad with the way you treat us.”

  “She’s dead.”

  Borghild hesitated, shifting her body as if to retreat while holding his eyes with hers. “Well, I’m sorry.”

  Seccon pulled his cloak tighter. The sun was shining, but the air hadn’t warmed. He looked again at the towering gates and the people camped on this side of the moat.

  “Why do I bother with you?” Borghild asked. “I am an outcast for you. Living with a stranger and no children to show for it.”

  “Children take a little more time than that.”

  “Do not mock me, Sangerhinde. Who was this woman before me?”

  Seccon took a deep breath. He wanted to explore the base and speak with Jon Black, the unofficial liaison for whoever these people were who had saved Sky Clan. Twenty years ago, he would not have hesitated to turn away from Borghild.

  He was too old and soft.

  “She was my wife for thirty seasons. We never had children. I loved her and she died.”

  Borghild was quiet for a moment, but he began to realize she was jealous. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or scream in frustration.

  “Can you not make a child?”

  “Damn it, Borg. I can make a child. Casia didn’t want any.”

  “What would she think of me?” Borghild asked in a low voice.

  “I don’t think the two of you would get along. Other women resented her.”

  Borghild made a sound and crossed her arms. “Do I look like she did?”

  “No.”

  Jon Black’s squad started directing villagers through the gate in groups of four or five at a time. Just inside the portcullis there was a modern scanner that checked individuals for weapons, contraband, and certain contagious diseases.

  “Is that why you like me so much, because I am different?”

  “You know why I like you.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes.” The word surprised him, but he was glad he said it. Some of his tiredness slipped away. “Come inside the fortress with me. I want to show you what my wife was like. Maybe you will believe that what we have is unique.”

  Borghild stalled, but then smiled curiously. “We are both widows, it seems.”

  Seccon nodded and touched her arm, but his eyes were on Sergeant Jon Black as he approached. “Can you tell me any news?”

  “Jorgo the Giant took the high pass with all of his strength. He is in the adjacent valley making camp. I’ve got to give it to those Hawk Clan dudes. They’ve got no quit in them. The high pass is dangerous as hell.”

  “What is he doing over the pass?”

  “Looking for you, I guess. Or Aefel.”

  “Or both?” Seccon asked.

  Jon shrugged. “Could be. Are you worried?”

  “I won’t be once we are inside of First Base.” Seccon said the words but didn’t feel them.

  11

  DUSK

  FOOTHILLS

  GRENDEL 0473829: SURFACE, VALLEY OF LIGHTS 83A1A

  MISSION CLOCK: n/a – ROGUE OPERATOR

  Aefel left the trail of Seccon, the Sky Clan, and the Sixth Armored-infantry Lightning Division soldiers. Two of the soldiers he recognized from training exercises and others he had seen on various campaigns. None wore uniforms or bore insignia, but tattoos didn’t lie and Aefel recognized their unique way of patrolling. They were good, every bit as competent as his own FALD unit. He smiled as he thought of Paul talking trash to their squad leaders and became terribly homesick for his team. His big friend would have said they SALD out, and would have groaned when one of them replied that Paul and Aefel had FALD down.

  Thinking of Paul, Cathy Mic, Landon, and the others sent shivers of loneliness through his body. He shouldn’t think of them now. This wasn’t the first time he dealt with separation from his unit. He needed to focus on his task. For the moment, he needed to leave Fey and her siblings and move away from the locally dressed Commonwealth
soldiers protecting them.

  Keep an eye on my new family, you SALD out dogs.

  He didn’t understand how he could be ordered to kill the Blood Royal and these men and women were sent to protect them, unless it was a trap. In that case, he had little time and less hope. No decision could be made or plan executed until he learned the identity and purpose of the third force in the area. He counted himself as representing FALD. Jon Washington Black and the other soldiers he knew represented SALD. The third group were the soldiers with NGO unit markings that he continued to encounter when it was least convenient.

  This last group had attacked Sky Clan village after the orbital bombardment of the village. He thought the NGO forces would kill Sveinn and the others on sight, including Fey.

  From a distance, he saw the NGO leader and a small unit approach Jorgo the Giant and his thanes. Each of the soldiers wore an odd series of metal bands and links around their necks. Others kept the decoration on their arms as well. It almost looked like they were afraid of a Carosn Device, like the techno-charms worked.

  The last Carosn Device was destroyed in the Regenison War for Independence. That was one thing that even politicians wouldn’t lie about.

  What are you gentlemen up to? Aefel resisted the urge to move in search of a better vantage point. In his experience, that was a good way to get caught.

  Jorgo listened to the NGO leader for several minutes. Aefel watched through the scope of his sniper rifle, which was more than likely issued to him by the NGO organization when they thought they could command him to commit murder. The memory of faking Seccon’s death still troubled him. He had been convinced that a back-up squad would carry out the orders he refused, so he left Fey and the others and became the village watchdog.

  He wished he knew where Paul and the rest of his FALD friends were. Had they been sent to finish what he had started? Each time he saw an NGO soldier, he braced for the possibility that it might be one of his friends.

  So far, so good, Reaver. I don’t have to kill my brothers. Ooja.

  In the middle of Aefel’s ruminations, Jorgo drew and swung his sword in one motion, severing the neck of the NGO soldier. Hawk Clan warriors attacked immediately, catching the modern light-infantrymen off guard. Even with their stealth armor and light weapons and their heads up their asses, the NGO still possessed an insurmountable advantage in technology.

  Jorgo and his warriors routed the modern soldiers in the beginning, but when the NGO men and women rallied, they pushed back with a bloody vengeance. He glimpsed teeth flying from a man’s face. An instant later, Aefel lost sight of the man and moved his scope to a different part of the battle. Three clansmen stared at their stomachs in wonder and horror as entrails spilled from bullet wounds. A fourth man fell sideways when his left leg below the knee evaporated.

  Aefel didn’t have to examine the cold, businesslike posture of the NGO soldiers. He’d suppressed rebellions where the enemy didn’t stand a chance. When the job was over, he got drunk.

  Welcome to the charnel house, Jorgo.

  The sound of explosions and swords ringing on ceramic armor drifted across the distance toward Aefel. Jorgo’s primitive warriors stood shoulder to shoulder just long enough to realize a traditional shield wall was a death sentence. They rushed forward, taking down several gunman by sheer stubbornness. Battle rage and bloodlust was making them stupid even as reality rampaged among their ranks. Aefel could feel the terror from a distance.

  Jorgo pointed his sword at the forest and nearby mountain trails. His warriors scattered in small groups. They continued to hunt the strangers, killing more than Aefel would have predicted. The men and women of Hawk Clan might feel fear, but they didn’t show it. Aefel respected their death dance despite his hatred of Jorgo. The sight of brave men, regardless their allegiance, dying by what must seem to them magic, caused Aefel to lock his jaw and use all his skill to remain calm and detached.

  Again and again, the swordsmen attacked. The NGO second-in-command rallied his remaining units in a pattern that would make no sense to Jorgo or the others. With modern weapons, the Commonwealth NGO soldiers created widely spaced positions with interlocking fields of fire. From that moment on, there were fewer and fewer survivors.

  Aefel didn’t see Jorgo die. Hawk Clan was devastated by the battle. Aefel wondered what kind of lessons the man would learn from the ordeal if he survived.

  Something twisted in Aefel’s subconscious mind. Regardless of their simple weapons or lack of technology, the warriors on this planet were something to be reckoned with. He pushed aside images of the brutal retaliation of low technology societies after rebellion suppression efforts by FALD units.

  He wondered if the purpose of the human race was to kill each other. He had seen few true pacifists. The difference was only in the kind of weapons used to massacre the enemy. Sword or machinegun, it didn’t matter in the end.

  Aefel stalked the battlefield when it was over, hoping for useful supplies or intelligence on the NGO. He was required to move cautiously with sword-Danes and NGO soldiers hunting each other throughout the valley.

  “Help me,” a voice said.

  Aefel moved to the edge of a stream where an NGO soldier held a wound to his abdomen with one hand and sloshed water into his mouth with the other.

  “I expected one of the Grendels to be wounded. How did you get bit?” Aefel asked.

  “Kiss my ass.” The man’s voice was dry and rough. “Wait until you have to fight the demons.”

  “Try it with just a sword and a shield,” Aefel said as he kneeled over the man.

  “Everyone is a smart ass. Can you get me back to base? I’ve got a lot of damage.”

  Aefel examined the man. Ignoring the curses and groans, he poked at the armor, noting that someone had pulled it to one side before thrusting a blade under the ribs.

  “Help me, you son of a bitch!”

  Aefel punched him lazily.

  The Commonwealth NGO soldier fell sideways and gripped his wound with both hands.

  “What does NGO stand for? And if you call me a son of a bitch one more time, I am going to skull fuck you right here before you die.”

  “Bring me a medic or take me back to base.”

  Aefel, still squatting on his haunches, stared at the injured man. Several moments passed. A spasm caused the soldier to cough in pain.

  “New Galactic Order.”

  “Do we have a new emperor already? I didn’t think I was out of the loop that long.”

  The NGO soldier quieted. He stared at Aefel and tried to back away but only hurt himself. “You are 70391.”

  “I am. What are you going to do about it?”

  The soldier looked sad, frustrated, and angry.

  Aefel saw him reach for his utility belt just in time to turn and dive away as the explosion blasted rocks from the creek and pieces of saplings in every direction. Shrapnel lanced into Aefel’s back, cutting long wounds but not going deep because of the angle.

  He didn’t think much about the slicing pain. The pressure of the explosion knocked him against the ground and rang his ears like a gong. He fought for consciousness as he staggered out of the area.

  Hours later, he started to think about what the soldier’s suicide attack meant.

  12

  NIGHT

  FIRST BASE

  GRENDEL 0473829: SURFACE, VALLEY OF LIGHTS 83A1A

  MISSION CLOCK: n/a – FUGITIVE

  “A Carosn Device?” Seccon asked. “Have you lost your mind?” He watched the Commanding Officer of this unit carefully, but his attention roamed across the stark modernity of the secret base. Grendel had been intentionally cast back into history by investors who went bankrupt hundreds of years past. He wondered how long ago this high tech base had been built and how they kept it from spooking the primitive locals in the next valley.

  He wondered if this officer was actually stupid enough to use a Carosn device.

  Brigadier General Travis Nguyen turned while still wea
ring the leg portions of his battle armor, which accentuated his narrow waist. He was tall, proudly featured, and too confident for Seccon’s taste. He had met the general many times during his service to Emperor Uburt-Wesson. Black hair, cut short and always just unruly enough to be perfect, framed his face. His almond-shaped blue eyes were the height of fashion on the leisure worlds. Women and men of all ranks and occupations loved him.

  General Nguyen climbed out of his battle-scarred equipment and laughed like a gracious gentlemen. “I didn’t give it to the brutes. It is merely my duty to get it back.”

  “Containment and destruction is also part of your duty, I assume,” Seccon said.

  Nguyen shrugged. He looked around at his audience, not because he seemed worried about their opinion, but to merely to see who was in the room. Tall and graceful, he moved past Seccon to greet soldiers returned from a patrol.

  “Mike,” he said. “That limp is completely gone now, or you’re hiding it from me again.”

  “Thank you, General. I am feeling much better. Humans sit Humanum.”

  Seccon watched the exchange with growing fascination. He had been frustrated at the casual interruptions that seemed part of Zero Brigade, formerly the Sixth Expeditionary Brigade, but now he noticed something beneath the surface. They were using the watch word from the coin: humans must be human.

  He studied the other officers and soldiers in the large room. Sveinn and Fey had thought it a strange ballroom, which made Nguyen and the others laugh. Seccon recognized it for what it was, no matter how the outer facade was decorated. The place was an aircraft hangar. He didn’t see anything with wings or rotors, but there were stacks of equipment and gear guarded by soldiers that didn’t care to pretend to be Grendels.

  Seccon moved between General Nguyen and his officers, leaned into his personal space, and locked eyes with the man. “Tell me you were ordered to destroy the device as soon as you find it.”

  Nguyen inhaled, causing his lips to part slightly. “I wasn’t given any such order, but I imagine it exists for someone. Seccon, my entire Brigade has been removing their Internal Cybernetics from the Commonwealth network for months. I am nearly as plain as your girlfriend.”