Paladins of the Storm Lord

by Barbara Ann Wright

  Reach knelt in the middle of the alley, singing softly. A boy stood in front of her, about two years old and dressed in a simple shift. His feet were bare. As Cordelia came closer, her own shoulders relaxed, her anticipation for a fight bleeding into calm as the melody washed over her. The little boy’s tears faded into snuffles, and his stare went dreamy.

  “What harms you, isa, little one?” Reach asked. “Why do you cry?”

  “Mama,” he said softly.

  “She has lost you?”

  The little boy nodded, and Reach lifted him into her arms. “We will find her, isa. Do not fear. Let your sadness cease.” She crooned again. When she saw Cordelia, she froze but relaxed quickly, her usual haughty expression taking over. “Paul’s metal-skinned niece.”

  “Paul’s drushkan lover.” Cordelia looked Reach up and down and put several random pieces together in her head. “Pool said something about healing songs. Was that what I heard?”

  Reach blinked rapidly, and Cordelia tried not to grin, glad to have something that put the ambassador off her game. “You should not speak that name where others can hear.”

  “Relax. No one knows who I’m talking about. So, you’re a healer. Or what did she call it? Shaw-something?”

  Reach’s chin lifted. “A shawness, as my people say. Shawnessi for more than one.”

  “Can you really heal with those songs or just—”

  Reach stepped past her. “I do not know what all of my songs could do for a human besides soothe them.” The boy stirred in her arms, and she hummed.

  “What are you planning to do with that kid?”

  “Find his mother.”

  “Good. I’ll help.” When Reach gave her a glance, she grinned. “If we’re both just looking out for the kid, we should get along fine.”

  “The baker, Gerard, knows many people on this lane.”

  And many people seemed to know Reach. They smiled at her, inclined their heads. If they thought it was odd to see her walking around with a human child, no one said anything. Cordelia noted that she kept her poisonous claws tucked away from the boy’s body. She also smiled at everyone they met. A friendly Reach, who would have thought? Maybe that was just her ambassador face. There had to have been a reason the drushka had picked her to speak for them.

  Gerard, a man with the largest jowls Cordelia had ever seen, knew the boy right away. “His parents work a booth in the market. His grandmother is supposed to watch him, but sometimes she falls asleep. Here, I’ll take him.”

  Reach handed the boy over and then slapped her thighs, her mouth turned down. “Careless.”

  “Can you watch him until his parents come home?” Cordelia asked.

  “My brother can. He’s got three kids of his own that he minds while his wife pulls a ’shaw. He offered before. Guess they might take him up on it now.” He laughed, belly shaking. “They’ll be so embarrassed at the drushkan ambassador minding their kid.”

  “It is no bother.” Reach smoothed the boy’s hair, and Cordelia wondered if she had children of her own she was missing or if she just liked them.

  They walked toward the mayor’s house together, and Reach grumbled about the boy until Cordelia sighed. “Maybe you should offer to babysit,” Cordelia said.

  “I would be more successful.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Reach eyed her up and down. “You know you are early for dinner with your uncle.”

  “I like to surprise him. Will you be joining us?”

  “Ahwa, no! Paul says you like to ‘verbally spar.’ When a drushka fights, she uses her hands.”

  “A people after my own heart.”

  “Ahya, our minds are alike.” She walked in silence for a moment. “Perhaps you will tell him why your captain or those under her command contacted the old drushka.”

  Cordelia thought fast. “Sounds like a conversation you should have with the captain.”

  “If she did not inform me before, why should she now? Something tells me the coming days will teach us much about trust.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Reach spread her hands, but Cordelia noted the tightness in her face. She was angry. Well, if Cordelia had the same suspicions, she’d be angry, too. They said nothing more as they reached Paul’s house, and Reach continued through the street, not waving good-bye, if drushka even did that.

  Cordelia stood on the stoop and combed her fingers through her hair. She knocked, and when her uncle opened the door, she gave him a wide grin. “I’m early.”

  “Cordelia, welcome.” He stood aside so she could enter, not showing a hint of being rattled, the bastard. He even squeezed her shoulder, very drushkan.

  “I ran into Reach on the way here.”

  “Did you?” Still not a twitch. He wore loose white trousers and a long red vest over his shirt, plain like hers but in much better repair. He had a lot of potted plants dotting his house, and she wondered if that was Reach’s doing.

  He led her to a small dining table. “Reach wanted to give us some space, since you’ve been far too busy to eat with me for such a long time.”

  “Put away the artillery, Uncle Paul.”

  “Oh, come now. That was an easy one. Getting a reaction out of you isn’t going to be any fun if you cave that quickly.”

  “Or was that my evil plan the entire time?”

  He snorted a laugh. “Our late lunch is almost ready. Or early dinner, if you like.”

  She nearly tripped over her chair. “How? Liam sent word to you that I was coming early? Or was it Brown?”

  He shrugged and sat. After a few moments, his housekeeper brought in two plates of food. “Roast joora meat and cattail grass,” she said.

  Paul bent over his plate. “Smells delicious, Katey. Thank you.”

  She smiled before hurrying back to the kitchen.

  “Fancy,” Cordelia said.

  “Nothing but the best for my seldom-seen niece.”

  “I’ll have to ignore you more if you’re going to tempt me back with food like this. Or just let me know when you won’t be in, and I’ll drop by.”

  “Funny.” He cut into his meat and popped a piece in his mouth. “So, what’s Carmichael going to do about this research station, the boggins, and the old drushka?”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “She isn’t here.”

  Cordelia jerked her thumb toward the door. “I could go get her, and the two of you could have dinner.”

  “We’re having candied berries for dessert, your favorite.”

  “Damn.” She took another few bites. “You said something before about trading with plains dwellers, and I still think that’s a terrible idea.”

  “A change of subject as subtle as a hammer. I don’t know why you became a paladin when you could have been a terrible politician.”

  “What can I say? I’m an overachiever.”

  Paul spread his hands, another drushkan gesture. “We’ll never know what the plains dwellers can offer until we open communications.”

  “They don’t have any metal.”

  “No one said they did.”

  “And what would they want from us?”

  “I won’t know until I ask.”

  “And then you’ll let them wander around Gale like the Sun-Moons.”

  He lifted his cup. “One big happy humanity. Speaking of humanity, what about those researchers, the ones who were killed by the boggins?”

  She leaned back and put her feet on the neighboring chair, watching his eyebrows twitch. “You know, I think most families don’t talk like this. They say, ‘How have you been?’ and…” She trailed off, not having any idea.

  “We’re far more interesting than most families. We put our feet on the furniture and everything.”

  “Ha! I knew that would get you.”

  “So teenage of you.”

  “You know, if the Storm Lord was here, I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of trading with the Sun-Moons or the plains dwellers.”<
br />
  “Oh, Delia, as grateful as I am for the Storm Lord’s bounty, he is not here. You never know who can be your ally until you ask.”

  “You’ve certainly made allies with the drushka.”

  He leaned forward. “From what I hear, so did you.”

  Nettle flashed before her mind’s eye, and she blushed a little, more out of surprise than anything. Paul sat back with a satisfied smile.

  “Did Reach tell you about the scent?” she asked.

  He paused chewing, and she smiled so hard it hurt. “Drushkan superstition,” he said.

  “Yeah? Or would people say you’ve been manipulated?”

  “People will say anything. I’m quite in possession of my faculties.”

  “Sure?”

  He ate a few more bites. “I’m sure Liam would agree with me about making allies.”

  “Liam would agree with any arrangement that includes the chance for new sex partners.”

  “And what could my trading partners offer that would tempt you?”

  She thought of everything from the recruitment vid. “Tanks. Mobile artillery from the paladin vid. A metal vehicle, big gun.”

  “You’re scary enough in armor. I can’t bear to think of you in anything more frightening.” He snapped his fingers. “The Sun-Moon worshipers mentioned something about a ballista, a weapon that throws big spears. They use them against raiders.”

  “Raiders.” She rubbed her chin, picturing the rush of battle day after day.

  “If I get you a ballista, you can tell people, publicly and in armor, that trading with outsiders is a grand idea.” When she stared at him, smiling wryly, he shrugged. “Give and take is what politics is all about.”

  “Fine.”

  He pointed. “You cannot go throwing spears inside the city.”

  “I’ll take my toys outside. I promise.”

  He smiled, and it had a tinge of genuineness. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me too. All it took was good food and bribes.”

  He lifted his cup again. “To politics.”

  “To alien sweat glands.”

  He glared at her.

  Katey came back in, brows drawn. “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Ross, but the delivery boy told me that people are talking about a strange light in the sky. They’re very agitated.”

  “What kind of light?” Paul asked.

  “Big, sir, so they say. I thought you might want to know.”

  Paul looked to Cordelia, and they both stood. “I’ll get to the keep,” Cordelia said, “see what I can find out.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You, too.” She caught herself before she could tell him to fuck off, certain he wouldn’t appreciate the farewell she shared with Liam. “You, too.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lazlo stumbled out of the pod, his ears ringing, eyes watering. He’d thought the ride down was bad, shaking and shuddering, the roar of noise, his power keeping him from blacking out. But now he was on the surface of the planet. Birds and insects shouted around him, the sun pounded down on his shoulders, and the pod ticked like a clock as it cooled. He smelled dirt and hot metal. And grass! A field of sickening green stretched away into forever, and it smelled so strongly he could feel it. But that wasn’t just the smell. He could feel every weed, every flower, all pulsing in time with his power. Trees waved and rustled, the sound playing up and down his spine, and he knew not to keep looking, but his gaze shot to the horizon, ground meeting sky in such awful finality.

  He fell to his knees, dry-heaving. The station was always in motion, but down here everything was so still and so hurried at the same time, scudding clouds and waving grass and fluttering leaves and noise on top of a planet that he couldn’t feel shifting under his feet. Bile filled his mouth again.

  He fought through it all and let his power flow, creating a feedback loop with his own body until he could only feel himself.

  And Dillon, who whooped like a crazy person. He was breathing hard, too, but his manic smile hadn’t slipped. He only looked a little green. Lazlo let his power flow over both of them, adjusting their lungs, but he still had to fight back the desire to retch.

  “I bet they are pissing themselves right now!” Dillon said. “Screaming and clutching each other and wondering how long Dué has been in collusion with us. I bet that’s just what Marie is saying, collusion. I hope she tries to blow Dué out an airlock and winds up smeared across the deck.”

  The image made Lazlo shut his eyes again. Breathing, that was the most important thing.

  “They’ll be driving themselves fucking insane trying to figure out how to get you back.”

  “You.” Lazlo took a few deep breaths. “You grabbed me. You forced me down here.”

  Dillon muffled his smile, folding his hands together. “Laz, buddy—”

  “Don’t you dare! Oh, don’t you dare, you arrogant prick! You kidnapped me!”

  “You’re a little old to be kidnapped, aren’t you?”

  Lazlo flung a handful of grass at him. “You didn’t even ask!”

  “Would you have said yes if I did?”

  “That is not the point, asshole!”

  “All right.” Dillon lifted his hands. “All right, Laz. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, well, if you’re sorry, then it must be okay.” He flung more grass, a bit of dirt mixed in this time. “What the fuck are we going to do down here?”

  Dillon licked his lips, and his eyes widened as if finally seeing that he couldn’t just “buddy” his way out of this, that it was more than a snit. “We’ll take shelter with my people. Everything will be all right, Laz. Don’t tell me you weren’t as bored up there as I was.”

  “There are worse things to be than bored. They’re going to notice that you’re just a man, Dillon, when they thought they had a god.”

  “I’m still powerful. You’re powerful. Even with the yafanai, no one down here can touch us. I’ll just keep trotting out the old rhetoric: humans came to this planet via a ship, some of us became gods, and some went to the planet. The end.”

  Lazlo stood on shaky legs. “Living on a satellite for two hundred and fifty years is not godlike.”

  “So don’t mention the Atlas. Only answer what you want to answer.” He laid a hand on Lazlo’s shoulder but tensed as if he might get bitten. “Living for over two hundred years is going to be the only part anyone hears.”

  Lazlo groaned and walked a small circle, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his forehead. He forced himself not to look at the horizon again, told himself to just keep breathing.

  “We should get going,” Dillon said.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” He couldn’t live on the surface with all these people.

  Dillon frowned, a skeptical look instead of an angry one, and Lazlo knew they were thinking the same thing. Where else could Lazlo go? He couldn’t even look at this place, let alone find his way around, and the pods weren’t two-way vehicles. The Atlas wasn’t equipped with any kind of shuttle. They’d planned to construct a space elevator at their original target planet—the materials were already there—but there was no way to escape Calamity’s gravity well.

  “Gale is that way,” Dillon said, pointing. “We can make it before nightfall.”

  Oh hell, nightfall. Calamity wasn’t just noisy and bright and vomit-inducing. It was dangerous, too. And Lazlo had helped Dillon make it more dangerous.

  “Look, Laz, I’m sorry. I know that was a jerk move, but I can’t live without you.”

  And now they were in some romantic vid, and Lazlo knew it was a calculated phrase, but his heart still lurched. Double, triple, quadruple damn. “You mean you can’t live forever without my power.”

  “While that is true, you are the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  “And you’re the most manipulative jackass I’ve ever known.”

  “Hey!” And now Dillon had that wounded look, the real one. He was a schemer, and he knew it, but having it spok
en aloud by someone he cared for still hurt him.

  Lazlo would have to add quintuple damn to his litany. “No more schemes, Dillon.”

  “Done.”

  “I mean it. I’ll come with you now, but that doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing to do, spur of the moment, I promise. I will prove to you that life down here with people who appreciate you is worlds better than being up there with those leeches. And you don’t have to be scared of anyone or anything.”

  Lazlo snorted. “We’ll see.”

  “No, I mean it.” He looked sincere, but he felt sincere, too, as Lazlo touched him with power. “You feel threatened by anyone or anything, call me, and I’ll come running. If anyone gives you so much as a look you don’t like, I will roast him, hand to God.”

  Lazlo had to snort a laugh. On the satellite, everyone had to be civil to avoid all-out war, but they found ways to be snide, and though Dillon often put them in their place, he had to toe the same line. Here, though? Well, it could be advantageous to have a god on one’s side.

  *

  Dillon had forgotten how fresh and clean everything could taste. Every gust of wind, every insect hum made him want to shout with joy. He’d been caged too long. And he didn’t have to worry about parasites or nausea or any of the old ailments that used to plague him on planetary missions. Now he had Lazlo, the fucking wonder cure. It had been a little hard to breathe at first, and then it hadn’t. Lazlo. When he’d inhaled a burst of pollen and started to cough, the feeling had eased at once. Lazlo again. He could eat anything he wanted, and any bug could bite him, and he never had to worry, all because of Lazlo.

  Dillon was tempted to pick him up and swing him around, but Lazlo wouldn’t like that. He was still angry and frightened, if his hunched back was any indication. Dillon walked a little closer, so his taller frame shaded Lazlo from the sun. Lazlo would get over his anger, and then he’d realize what a strong goddamned team they’d make down here! Dillon knew they should have done this years ago, but he didn’t dare say that, not yet.