Paladins of the Storm Lord

by Barbara Ann Wright

  Lydia stumbled against the rickshaw and fell. She slid into the future to see where the boggin would attack from, but it put its hands on its head and roared. Lydia cried out with it, shouting Freddie’s name.

  *

  The pain spread from B46’s belly and head through all her joints and muscles, tightening around her chest like a rope. If she could not defeat this creature, she could not get to the sticky grit; she needed this creature’s blood! In desperation, she reached for the children, seeking their strength. They heard her call, and she felt some of them racing toward her, but she needed more. She sent her mind to more of them, ignoring the pain beating through her skull. Their will flooded her limbs, and she lunged for this tall creature again.

  It flitted out of her way, one step ahead of her. She scored a hit along its arm, and it yelped in pain then danced away. She would need to be faster. She needed more strength, more power.

  One of B46’s legs buckled. The tall creature cried out, and pain bloomed in B46’s chest. She looked down at the length of wood that impaled her, the stick that she had helped turn into a spear. The tall creature was staring at her, still reeking of terror.

  The children cried out, and B46 felt their anguish, but she couldn’t tear herself away from them, wishing to be with them in the end, wishing she could stay to watch their triumph, but they couldn’t pull away from her, and as blackness crept across her vision, she felt them follow.

  *

  “What the fuck!” Carmichael yelled as some of the boggins who’d been attacking her squad crumpled, holding their heads and shrieking. Her squad stared in confusion until she yelled, “Stab the little bastards while they’re down!”

  They obeyed with gusto. The boggins that hadn’t collapsed ran, hissing at each other as if they could no longer tell friend from foe.

  “Do you know what this is?” Carmichael asked Horace.

  “I don’t know. I sense something, but…” He shook his head. “They’ve gone mad.”

  “Good news for us.” She rounded up the squad, and they kept on for the Paladin Keep. Maybe this weird but fantastic crap was going on all over the city. It would explain why she hadn’t heard any railguns going off.

  Or maybe Brown hadn’t made it.

  Carmichael gritted her teeth. She’d hoped her lieutenants would be smart enough to stay alive. But alive for what? To live under the murderous Storm Lord’s thumb?

  A thousand reasons went through her head as she reached the keep, visions of malfunctioning equipment, but the last thing she expected was Shiv and Liam waiting for her in the armory, no railguns in sight. To their credit, they explained quickly, and Liam didn’t give her any of his usual lip.

  “And you didn’t stop them?” she asked.

  “Do you think I could have?”

  She put her hands on her hips and breathed. Words like “dereliction of duty” flitted through her mind. Gale could have used three more paladins. It could have used the railguns, except Lea had been right. Railguns would have done a lot of damage to the buildings, to civilians. She’d been looking for anything to even the score.

  “If you have anger,” Shiv said, “direct it at me, hunt leader. It was I who asked for help, and my people they went to save.”

  Carmichael let out a slow breath. “Why in hell do you have a human toddler?”

  “Long story,” Liam said. “He’s a rescue.”

  Weren’t they all. She would never have left Gale to help a bunch of aliens, but Ross had been close to them since the mission to the research station. Paul had been the same way, hooked at first sight. And maybe Ross had known Paul would have wanted her to go and save his lover’s family.

  That didn’t explain Lea and Brown, though. They’d gone just to use the guns, or she was a pickled prog. And they had better believe she’d tear them some new ones when they returned. Maybe they all needed to spend some time in the holding cells.

  “You wounded?” She’d noted Liam’s bloody cheek first thing, and her throat had done an odd little jump, but he seemed fine, walking and talking. Maybe he’d just been scratched. Head wounds took forever to stop bleeding.

  “Fine.”

  “Then get your ass back out there. The boggins are collapsing, but they’ll need mopping up, and there are probably still a few progs wandering around.”

  With a crisp salute and a smile that was only half jackass, he went on his way. Shiv watched Carmichael warily, and she appreciated that. It was always useful to inspire a little fear. Shiv was the only lover of Liam’s that Carmichael had ever really spoken to. Maybe this one would stick. Carmichael had already stashed Horace downstairs under guard, and now there was no one in the darkened armory except the two of them and the sleeping boy.

  “Do you think your whole group will die without Ross running in to save them?” Carmichael asked.

  She frowned hard. “Sa will turn the fight in our direction.”

  If the situations were reversed, and Carmichael had sent for drushkan help, she’d be desperate for it to come. And the humans had weakened the drushka, killed many of them through the boggins. She supposed they owed the drushka a little heavy artillery. “After the fight is over, will the drushka come here? Maybe we can watch each other’s backs.” When Shiv sucked her teeth, Carmichael added, “Guard each other.”

  Shiv wrinkled her nose away. “I will ask my mother when I see her again.” She trooped down the stairs with the boy in her arms.

  “Don’t go wandering around by yourself,” Carmichael called. She spied something in the shadows, the bloody poleaxe that had stabbed Paul Ross. Reach had no doubt used it against a few boggins that night. Carmichael touched the end and thought of the Storm Lord jabbing the poleaxe into Paul’s body, trying to cover up a murder like a common criminal, like someone afraid.

  She ran scenarios: the bloodbath that might happen if only a few people joined in her rebellion against the Storm Lord; the civil war of faithful versus the fallen, yafanai and paladins turning on their own people.

  And what was the other option? To keep quiet and let the Storm Lord do as he pleased? How soon before he put a hole in her chest? She was certain he’d find a scapegoat for Paul and one for her, too. Maybe he’d pin it on Blake, who couldn’t account for his whereabouts after his memory had been wiped. As for Horace and anyone else who knew the truth, well, people were killed every day by one thing or another. And if the Storm Lord was smart—and Carmichael knew he had some cunning—he’d do it before this battle was cleaned up, when any deaths could be explained by the boggins.

  No, she had to turn everyone’s mind. She had to make the Storm Lord either flee or kill them all. Hell, if they were all fighting against him, he’d lose as long as they didn’t turn on each other. She had to act now, before the dust settled, and it would have to be a bloody good plan.

  People gathered at the marketplace after a disaster. They waited for a speech from the mayor and looked for lost family. She could tell everyone what the Storm Lord had done, both about Paul and about the boggins, and she’d have Horace to back her up.

  She’d need something else. She looked to the bloody poleaxe. Maybe she could cement what she said by having the Storm Lord attack her in public.

  And if that didn’t work, there was always plan B: shoot him in the back. The people would turn on her then, but she’d risk it if it came to that. Still, better to get through the whole thing alive if possible.

  First, the bait. The Storm Lord wouldn’t attack her without a reason. She needed to let him know what she knew, needed him to know where she’d be. She took the bloody poleaxe, rounded up a ragtag squad, and sent them to the temple with orders to put the poleaxe in the Storm Lord’s room or wherever he might see it. They didn’t question her, good soldiers, and she had to swallow a smile of pride.

  Next, secure the evidence. She hurried to the meeting room where she’d stashed Horace. He jumped when she came in.

  “At ease,” she said. “No one’s come to kill you yet.”
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  “Thank goodness.”

  She snorted a laugh. “As soon as my son comes back, I’m sending you with him and his drushkan girlfriend. They’ll take you to the marketplace. When I call for you to speak, that’s when you pop up. Until then, you wait here, out of sight.”

  “Hiding and waiting. Fantastic.” When she didn’t say any more, he blinked at her. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

  “I can’t risk the information getting out.” She tapped her temple.

  “I can hide from a telepath better than you can!”

  That might have been true, but the fewer people who knew about her vague plan, the better. Even she didn’t think too hard on it, not knowing who might be listening, not that it was even fully formed yet. “I’d appreciate it if you healed my son.”

  He shrugged, and she read the sarcasm in his pinched lips, but it made her want to laugh rather than yell, the sure sign of a long night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The heavy hand of fatigue had Cordelia by the metaphorical balls. There had been too many feelings followed by fight after fight, followed by even more fucking feelings, and now she was running along a huge branch in a dim swamp, trying not to think about the drop below.

  In the lead, Reach held up a hand and slid to a stop as she pointed to her left. Cordelia knelt, Brown and Lea following her lead. Insects buzzed around them, but nothing else stirred. Maybe Reach was imagining things. They were all tired.

  Brown peered into the gloom, head moving back and forth. Drushkan hearing might be excellent, but Brown could hear someone even thinking about moving.

  “Anything?” Cordelia whispered.

  “Something moving away.”

  Reach gestured them forward. “I thought I felt something, but…”

  “Let’s keep on,” Cordelia said.

  They turned south, farther from the old people’s territory. The swamp grew muggier as morning faded, but all stayed quiet. Cordelia feared they were too late, that all the drushka were dead or gone, but Reach signaled a halt again.

  Cordelia’s nerves stretched as thin as cheap paper, and she resisted the urge to shout at the swamp to just come get them already.

  Brown smiled. “Here they come.” She readied her gun before Reach could hop back to them.

  “The old ones are coming.” Reach took her gun from Lea and slung the battery and ammo pack around her shoulders.

  Cordelia heard nothing, but she had to trust them. The relief at finding something was too great to be ignored.

  “Should we not fire from cover?” Reach asked.

  “Nothing’s going to get close enough to hurt us,” Lea said.

  Slapping sounds and rustling came from the trees, too many drushka to run silently. Cordelia closed her visor.

  “The queens have a weapon you have not yet seen.” Reach’s gaze shifted over the ground as if what she knew was too painful to be met head on.

  “I’ve met Pool,” Cordelia said. “But isn’t her tree far from here?”

  “Trees, drushka, whatever.” Brown’s gun hummed as it powered up. “Storm Lord be with us now.”

  The words brought a sour taste to Cordelia’s mouth. “Lead your targets. Stay in your range.” The drushka came into sight, running along the branches. A tree walked in their midst; its branches curled around the swamp trees as it moved. Cordelia’s mouth hung open, and her heart pounded even louder than the hum of the guns. She’d known a queen’s tree could move, but walk?

  “What the shit?” Brown said. Her voice rang through Cordelia’s helmet.

  Cordelia slid her finger over the trigger, not squeezing yet, just sighting. “I’ve got the tree.” Reach glanced at her, but she shouted, “Fire!”

  All other sounds died before the boom of the railguns’ bullets rocketing through the swamp. Greenery exploded from the tree, huge patches of bark shaken loose as its limbs cracked under the assault. Drushka were torn apart like paper dolls, their limbs and organs scattered into fine mist.

  The remaining drushka dove for cover, and the tree bent double, trying to protect itself as it hurried backward. The railguns hammered into the surrounding trees and shook the drushka loose to fall into the water below.

  “Hold your fire!” Cordelia shouted. When the echoes died, she nodded at the fleeing drushka. “They must have come from the larger fight. Let’s follow them.”

  Reach spat over the branch’s side and eyed the piles of dead drushka with wide eyes. “This is slaughter.”

  “Do you want to save your people or not?” Brown asked.

  “Save your people by killing your people,” Lea said. “Quite a perspective.”

  Cordelia waved at them to be quiet. “Let’s go.”

  *

  Usk and Nata ran along the Anushi’s limbs, killing as they went and working their way toward the queen’s guards. Among her high branches, Nata moved toward a lacing of limbs so dense, Usk could not see through them.

  A spear jabbed out of the tangle, and Nata dodged, but before she could attack, Usk caught her arm. “Not there, young one,” he said.

  “But there are enemies.”

  “That is where the tribe’s children are grown.”

  Nata sucked her teeth, too young to remember a time when each queen was allowed to grow her own tribe, just as long as she had no children from her own body. Now the Shi grew the children for every tribe, a much safer system, as the Anushi would relearn.

  “Come,” he said, “this way.”

  She followed him, shaking her long silvery braids over one shoulder, impatience shining in every feature. She loved a fight, this one. She was already fierce, and she would be a warrior for the ages if she would learn more caution.

  Or perhaps the time for caution was over, as the Shi had said. Usk felt her waiting in his mind, willing him closer to the Anushi queen. He made Nata hide and let any other enemy warriors pass, wanting to save their strength. Even as he was amused by Nata’s impatience to fight, he understood her. He sneered at these renegades, their arrogance and short hair. Long ago, when the Anushi had broken the drushka, her tribe had shorn their hair to show their commitment to the humans, to look more like the invading aliens when they should have been content to be drushka.

  “She is close,” the Shi said in Usk’s mind. “If you must batter her with weapons until she acquiesces, do so.”

  The thought sent pain through Usk’s gut, but he would do as commanded. He spied her through the trees, the Anushi queen, clinging to her trunk, eyes vacant as she watched the battle.

  Drushka surrounded her, and one in particular caught Usk’s eye, a red-haired female. She shouted orders to those around her, and her wary, confident stance screamed hunt leader. She would be the first to fall.

  *

  Nettle knocked a spear from the air and sent one of her guards after the enemy who threw it. The attackers were getting cleverer, launching missiles from the cover of the surrounding branches, but for what purpose? Surely hurting a queen was as terrible a thought to them as it was to her.

  Pool sucked in a deep breath. “One of the queens has fled into the swamp.”

  Good, maybe she would not return. Or perhaps some of the old ones were seeing the folly in this attack. Nettle hurried to Pool’s side and lifted a water skin to her lips, but she pulled away with a cry. Her flailing hand caught Nettle’s shoulder, and they both cried out as the Shi assaulted their thoughts.

  “Why resist me so?” the Shi said, her voice echoing in Nettle’s skull. One of her agents had to be close, and her older mind hammered at Pool’s consciousness. Nettle tried to pull her back, to keep her in the now.

  Pool’s teeth clenched so hard, Nettle could hear their grind. “You want us…to have no thoughts…but yours.”

  “It is my right as Shi.”

  “No!”

  “You must be strong, Queen.” Nettle tried to push her will forward, use herself as a wedge between them.

  Pool pulled upon her strength and fought.
“You agreed. When I followed Roshkikan, when I traded myself for peace, you agreed to let me go!”

  “That human is long dead. The agreement was a mistake. Come back to us. Let us be whole, and we will cleanse the humans from our planet.”

  The other queens’ voices joined in, but they were mere echoes, even Nettle could see that. When they attacked, their wholeness made them clumsy, as if they were unused to moving with so many limbs. She saw them huddled under the Shi’s watchful branches, no longer wandering their territory as they did in the days before the schism.

  Pool groaned as she jerked the Anushi to the side, away from the other queens, though Nettle still felt the Shi’s pull and knew the agent was still close. She broke away from Pool and scanned the nearby branches. A young female launched herself from a tangle of leaves, leading with a fist. Nettle rocked back and kicked her in the stomach.

  She grunted and dropped to roll out of the way. Nettle spied movement behind her and readied her daggers. When a spear launched over the female’s head, Nettle knocked it from the air and darted forward, leading with her blades.

  A male dashed from the foliage and led Nettle away from the young female, his long body snaking to and fro, avoiding Nettle’s thrusts. The young female regained her feet and followed, drawing a curved blade that rounded her fist. She punched, making Nettle slow and giving the male time to recover his spear.

  Nettle stabbed the young female in the arm, and she hissed, her strike fumbling. Nettle let one of her daggers dangle from her wrist and punched the young one in the face. She fell, golden blood pouring from her nose. She should not have been in this fight, seemed barely out of the branches, and Nettle could not help imagining Shiv in her place.

  “Leave this place, young one,” Nettle said as she looked to the male. “I have no wish to kill you.”

  The male jabbed with the spear. Nettle blocked the strike and sought a way inside the spear’s range. The male backed away, body twisting as he swept the spear back and forth. Nettle leapt it and risked a look over one shoulder to see that the young female had fled.