Then came more shouts. I looked back in time to see Zagros kick a slave in the face. I heard a growl, but it came from Nicolet, not Flint. I nodded. Like father, like son. But then I saw the reason for his fury—shapes rushing through the dark wilderness below us. Slaves on the run. A bunch of them must have taken advantage of the confusion and darkness to make a break for it.
“Good for you,” I said to the shapes running through the night—then I had to explain what I meant, of course, to Nicolet.
That predatory smile came back. “Yeah. Good. Kill a few of the bastards while you’re at it.”
I hoped some of them would end up in Watermanse, but my burst of optimism faded when gunshots erupted around Zagros. I turned back in time to see a group of slaves being gunned down. Retribution, probably, for the ones who escaped.
Nicolet growled again. This time, Flint joined her.
Me, I stared at Zagros. That man was going to die.
At first light, Venari’s army began to move.
As I’d thought, staying more or less in their order of march saved them a lot of time, so they were able to get moving quickly. We headed inland, then turned back west, trying to outpace them back to Watermanse. On the way, I took the time to swing us further south than we needed to go, which let us see Egnor’s force come marching down toward the lake. He’d be less than half a day behind Venari, which meant the whole Osterway force could be in a position to attack the town by late afternoon.
We put on speed and hurried.
Fortunately, it seemed daylight, together with her final approach march on Watermanse, convinced Venari to pull in whatever detached forces she’d deployed to her flanks and ahead. Maybe they thought they’d finally driven us off last night when Flint and I made our break into the darkness. For that matter, they probably assumed we would have just returned to Watermanse and weren’t still at large on the flank and rear. That was fine. Let them keep thinking that. I was determined to keep making their lives miserable, even as they launched themselves into an assault on the town.
By mid-afternoon, Venari’s march slowed. Part of it might be to let Egnor catch up, but I saw the main reason—her force was starting to redeploy from their column to more of a battle line. We set up on a hill that overlooked both Venari’s army and Watermanse to the west, now just in view. I wanted to see how Venari deployed, but I also wanted to see the town, see what progress they’d made in the days since I’d said goodbye to Reyna at the outer defensive ring.
Through the spyglass, I could see they’d done pretty well. The two outermost defensive rings were complete, bristling with sharpened stakes, obstacles made of old girders, and stout emplacements with well-concealed embrasures for shooting. I gave Kai, and all the rest of the townsfolk, a silent nod. Venari still had the advantage in numbers and firepower, but those defenses looked tough. It was going to be costly for Osterway, and Venari knew it. Her sudden caution rang clear in her patient approach, security elements well forward, her force making maximum use of cover and concealment as they advanced. Again, I hated to have to admit it, but the Osterway were more disciplined than I gave them credit for. At least this force was, which might actually have more to do with the presence of Zagros, or Venari herself. Egnor wasn’t in the same league as a leader, obviously, so I couldn’t use him to gauge. If Zagros and Venari were dead, I doubted Egnor would be able to rally it. He was just too weak, a pitiful excuse for a man, much less a leader. Unless there was someone else I didn’t know about, I suspected it would all just fall apart.
I heard a distant thump; a few seconds later, a flat, hard crump shook the air. I looked toward it and saw a billowing cloud of smoke and dust rising from near one of Venari’s forward detachments, who were running back toward the main body.
“What the hell was that?” Nicolet asked.
I frowned. “A mortar. Someone in Watermanse either fired it by accident, or got spooked.”
The explosion was the round detonating when it landed. Watermanse had, for some reason, decided to fire its mortar, but much too early. They should have waited until Venari was committed, when the impacting rounds could inflict maximum carnage. Instead, all they had done was scare off a handful of her troops, maybe inflict a casualty or two. And it cost a precious round to do it.
My frown hardened. We had to be more disciplined than Venari’s forces. Otherwise, this was already over before it had begun.
“What’s going on down there?” Nicolet asked. I looked where she was pointing.
I saw Zagros again, this time on foot. A few other figures hovered nearby, but he seemed to be facing a tall, formidable-looking woman who stood, hands on her hips, listening to whatever he was saying.
It had to be Venari.
I put the spyglass on her.
She was indeed tall. And lean, but hard—a lithe combination of muscle, sinew, and grace. Her hair, long and brown, was tied back, revealing her face. She was still too far away to make out details, though. It didn’t matter. The body language of everyone around her was deferential; there was no denying who was in charge. Even Zagros, massive bull of a man that he was, seemed cowed by her. I could also see him watching her almost constantly, while her attention moved around, from him, to someone else, to something else, and briefly back to him.
I knew that look. He wanted her. Lusted after her, even. But he couldn’t have her.
Huh. Interesting.
Even more interesting, though, was what happened over the next while. Venari’s force stopped and started digging in. They were still far short of Watermanse but seemed content to hunker down here. That was stupid. They should just attack. Egnor’s force must almost be here, so she’d be at maximum strength.
“That mortar must have really scared them,” Nicolet said, her voice ringing with satisfied contempt.
I nodded at her words. “I think you’re right.”
The mortar had spooked them. That single round, as much as I’d thought it was waste, had announced that Watermanse had more than just small arms and hand-weapons. One mortar round, and that was all—it seemed like a foolish waste to me, but I knew what Venari was up against. Putting myself in her place, though, she didn’t. There was one mortar. Were there more? What other weapons did Watermanse have? Were they ready for this, or was Osterway walking into an elaborate trap?
We watched through the rest of the afternoon. Two hours or so before sundown, I saw several of her small boats abruptly weigh anchor and start back east. The rest of the force—which had now finally been joined by Egnor—kept digging in.
“Venari’s stopped for a reason,” I muttered, more to myself than to Nicolet. “She’s sent those ships back east for something. That mortar—it’s made her really nervous.”
“Maybe she’s gone to get some heavy weapons of her own. That’s where those boats are going.”
I glanced at Nicolet. This girl was smart.
“I think you’re right. That means we’ve got at least another day before she tries a full assault.”
I looked back at Watermanse. That mortar shot might very well have been an accident, or a mistake, and they’d just gotten lucky. Or maybe someone had actually been very clever. I could see this being Kai, Reyna, maybe Aldebar, or even Lorna or Lanni or Gurdon. We had no shortage of clever people, that was certain.
“Come on,” I said, closing the spyglass and shoving it back into my pack. “We’re going.”
Flint, who’d been dozing in the sun, got to her feet and shook.
Nicolet nodded. “Off to Watermanse.”
But I shook my head. “Nope. Not yet. We’ve got one more night of work out here.”
Nicolet’s face was a question, but I just shook my head as we started down the south side of the hill, keeping the crestline between us and the Osterway forces. I had some thinking to do, and only bit of daylight left to do it.
The rattle of gunshots faded into the darkness behind me. I kept running anyway, plunging down a steep hill, twice almost losing my footing and
falling. I’d lost track of Flint during the fight and could only desperately hope that she was somewhere nearby, also pulling back.
Egnor appeared out of the dark, sucking in a breath to challenge me in some display of combat stupidity. I streaked toward him as he lifted a machete, sliding under his whistling cut to land a savage punch in his gut. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it slowed his response. Then the melee broke out again, and I was forced away by secondary attacks from a pair of wiry fighters who made me waste precious time and a golden opportunity with their clumsy plan. I broke one’s neck and stabbed the other clean through his collarbone, my blade exiting his back with a spray of blood that left him shrieking in pain. Sliding my blade free, I ran on as the brawl fell behind me, my feet blurring into motion with no thought for stopping.
I hated leaving that bastard Egnor behind, but I resolved to hit him again, and this time, there would be cold metal in my fist as I opened the worthless sack of guts from throat to balls.
I reached the bottom of the slope, sloshing into a shallow stream as my fevered run took my through the woods like a human comet. I took a moment to catch my breath, wincing as pain flared like lightning bolts in my left shoulder and just above my right knee. They weren’t debilitating hits, but they were bad enough.
Movement rattled the bushes just upstream. I spun that way, rifle raised, then saw Flint step into the stream and splash toward me.
A momentary flood of relief almost washed away the pain . . . almost.
“Good to see you, girl,” I said, giving her a quick once over. She had a cut across her back, and there was a lot of blood matting her fur, but I suspected it was mostly not hers. Still, that cut would need some attention. Another gunshot cracked from up the hill, though, and we moved on, wading along the steam. Her wound, and mine, would need some attention. But not here.
We stuck to the stream for a few dozen paces, keeping a careful watch out up the slope to our left. The Osterway encampment stretched most of the way along this little watercourse, along the ridge separating it from Le’kemeshaw. So there were Osterway troops up there, and they had the scent of blood. I kept us in the stream anyway. I was mindful of the fact that Venari’s Huntsmen were decent trackers; I didn’t want to make it easy for them to follow us, in case they were brave and angry enough to try. Flint seemed relieved when we finally quit the stream and started south, further inland and away from the Osterway forces.
That had been a hard fight. We’d started out well enough, taking out a half dozen soldiers before Osterway resistance stiffened—but when it did, it stiffened fast. It was nothing like taking on Egnor. The presence of Zagros and Venari, along with her personal guard, the Blackwings, put a whole different scale on things. Flint and I went from killing more or less at will, to fighting for our lives, in what felt like just a few heartbeats. Even with my tech to augment me, those final moments had been a chaotic storm of strikes and counterstrikes, swinging blades gleaming with firelight, shouts, screams, dust, and explosive gunshots. I’d taken a bullet just above my knee—fortunately through and through, so the wound was clean, if nasty—and a solid hit from a spiked club to my shoulder. A dozen lesser hurts glowed across my body. I needed time to lay low, rest, and let my tech do its thing, speeding up my healing so I could get back in the fight.
I glanced at Flint, limping slightly as she paralleled me through the bush. Yeah, that was definite—for tonight, at least, we were done fighting. Venari’s forces were just too numerous and too ready for me and Flint to take on alone now.
I stumbled, then stumbled again. Fatigue, pain, and the aftermath of surging adrenaline had pretty much done me in. I wanted to get back to our planned rendezvous with Nicolet, but I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I stopped for a quick rest, doubting the Huntsmen could track us, thanks to the stream and the night.
Something cold touched my hand. I looked down to see Flint grinning up at me. She turned and walked a couple of paces, then came back and nuzzled me with her nose again.
I had to smile, though that hurt, too. “Yeah, okay, Flint . . . you’re right. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
My own inadvertent joke made me giggle. Of course we weren’t out of the woods.
Okay, I was more done in than I’d thought. With effort, I started walking again, letting Flint take the lead and just following along.
“You look like shit,” Nicolet said, wiping my face with a piece of cloth she’d soaked in the nearby creek.
I forced a smile. “Nice to see you, too.”
We’d met her where a small creek—a tributary to the stream Flint and I had used to cover our escape—tumbled over a rock outcrop among some birch trees. It kept us far enough away from the Osterway force that I was pretty confident they wouldn’t find us, but close enough we’d know if they started to move.
I stretched out my legs, wincing as pain pierced through the one that was shot. The bleeding had stopped, and I knew my tech would be busy repairing the wound, but for now it was an ugly, meaty hole blown clean through my lower thigh. A bit deeper and it would have opened my femoral artery—and even my tech couldn’t have saved me from that.
“You sure there’s nothing else I can do for you, Custis?” Nicolet asked. “I mean, this Legacy thing of yours, it’ll really fix you up?”
“Cus,” I said. “My friends call me Cus. Custis is what my mother called me.” I shook my head. “My body still heals itself. The tech just helps, speeds it up. A night’s sleep and these wounds’ll be mostly gone.”
She looked closely at my leg, then at my shoulder, which was splotched with a spectacular purple-red bruise, and clicked her tongue. “That’s pretty amazing. Either of those hurts would have me down for days—probably weeks for that gunshot.”
I started to drift a bit. Blinking my eyes open, I looked at her. “What about you? You get some bad guys?”
She patted the carbine. “Turns out shooting Osterway assholes from the dark is a lot easier than mixing it up with them in a fight. Got three or four.” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s just the beginning, though.”
“Lots more of them to kill,” I said, my eyes fluttering between open and closed. “You’ll get your satisfaction.”
But Nicolet shook her head. “No, I won’t. I could kill every last one of ‘em, and it wouldn’t be enough. Those bastards, they—”
She stopped. I shook my head again.
“Nicolet, you don’t have to talk about this.”
“Yeah. I do. Can’t just leave it rattling around inside my head.”
I took a breath and sat up. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“Oh, no. I don’t mean right now. You need to sleep.”
“And I will. Right now, though, you’ve got my attention, and I figure I’ve got a while before the pain fades enough for me to sleep anyway. Flint’ll keep an eye out.”
“You sure about that?”
I looked over a Flint, a snoring shadow a few paces away. “She’s got a way of keeping those ears and that nose going even when she’s sleeping,” I said. “No one’s gonna take her by surprise out here.”
She looked at me, nodded, and started to speak. She gave lot of detail about some things; almost nothing about others. I didn’t question or press, and just let her go on.
I learned she was actually from the Osterway—from near the place Venari used as her headquarters, or capital, or whatever she might have called it. A place called Cold Water. While she was still just a young child, she and her parents went from living free to being slaves, but Nicolet never did learn why. All she knew was that her life went from being open and carefree, in the way of a little kid, to suddenly one of pens and cages and locked wagons.
And . . . worse. Much worse.
“It started when—” She stopped and wiped her eyes. “When I was eight, I think. Maybe nine. The men would come, and they’d take me away from my mother. My father was dead by then. They said they were . . . were going to teach me things.”
I sat up again,
shaking my head emphatically. “Nicolet, don’t do this. Not right now. I know you need to talk through this, and I’m willing to listen, but we need—you need—to be somewhere safe when you do it.”
She looked at me. “I am somewhere safe.”
“Yeah, most people don’t consider being with me an especially safe place. Not after they’ve known me a while, found themselves in a few fights, been shot at.”
“I’ve known lots of men, Cus,” Nicolet said. “Aside from my father, none of them have been good. I’m kind of an expert in bad men.” She smiled. “That’s how I know you’re so different. You’re a good man. You just happened to be trapped in that warrior’s body of yours. That’s what brings trouble your way—that Hightec, whatever it is, inside you. But you’re not just a Legacy. You’re more. A lot more. You’re a good man.”
I stared into the darkness as she spoke. Her words stuck close to home, the same way Reyna’s had when we’d talked in the ruins near the ford about settling down somewhere safe. I had to admit, the idea appealed to me, if such a place could exist. But Nicolet was right—being a Legacy seemed to bring trouble my way. And always the sort of trouble a Legacy was perfect for sorting out.
I didn’t really believe in fate, though. Life was just what happened, and how you dealt with it.
I turned back to her. This was weighty stuff, too weighty to ponder while I was tired and sore, and while what looked to be a massive battle was brewing. Trouble was, I wasn’t sure what to say because—well, like I said, it was just too weighty.
“You know what?” Nicolet said, “you’re filthy. Mud, dirt, blood—it’s pretty grim.”
“Sorry, something about fighting for your life, you don’t worry too much about your appearance.”
She shushed me then went to the creek and soaked the piece of cloth she’d been using to wash me off, then she wrung it out and came back. She started wiping me again, but this time she opened my shirt, pulled it off me, and tugged at my pants.
Legacy Page 15
