“What are you thinking?” Kor asked.
“She knows we’ll be coming up to an Elwharri colony,” Halek answered for her. “And there isn’t a colony on the continent, maybe the planet, who hasn’t been alerted to what’s been going on.”
Shaleen nodded. “That’s right. We’re here to defend these people, but we can’t engage Hishkara and have the locals shooting at our backs at the same time.” She looked at Kor. “They won’t know we’re coming until a starship drops and disgorges a company of mounted Vorwhol. They’ll assume the worst and respond accordingly.”
“I know I would,” Halek added.
“Well, Sub-Administrator?” she asked.
“I will attempt to find such information as quickly as possible,” he replied with a nod. “We are approximately ten hours from orbit and can make planetfall within no more than a couple hours after that.”
“Understood,” she acknowledged. “We’ll start prepping our gear. We’re used to a warm world, and all the cold-weather gear and power cells we brought need to be rechecked.”
“Very good,” Dokmor said. “Well done, young lady,” he said, sounding impressed. “I feel much better about this situation than when you first boarded. We may yet see this resolved without bringing in human mercenaries.” He added the last with a hint of discomfort. “If you will excuse me.”
The three siblings nodded as he turned off the hologram, picked up his slate, and began the ponderous journey to the door. The three Vorwhol turned to each other and tried not to laugh. When the door finally closed behind Dokmor, Kor started chuckling, and a mischievous light gleamed in his golden eyes.
“It’s a good thing we’re the ones going into battle.” He glanced at the door. “If it was the Bith, the fight would take a few years.”
Shaleen and Halek chuckled lightly, but it was only half-hearted.
“Come on,” Shaleen said. “Let’s get down to the cargo bay and start breaking out our gear. When we land, I want to make a straight line toward Valaroos. And we need to be sure to prep the pistols and rifles for cold weather.”
“Yes, Kosai,” Halek and Kor said, nodding their heads solemnly.
Side-by-side, they marched out of the observation lounge, headed toward an unknown future.
* * *
The Landing
Soung
One Kilometer West of Valaroos
“Touchdown in thirty seconds, and it should be light as a feather.” The captain’s voice came in over the speakers of the cargo bay where the company of the Emerald Sword waited. “Be advised, visibility is marginal out there due to intermittent flurries and high winds.”
Shaleen checked that her blade was secure at her left hip and a light blaster on the right. Then she glanced at the powerpack at her waist. The lights were all in the green, ensuring that the form-fitting thermal suit beneath her armor would keep her from freezing to death in minutes in the harsh polar temperatures that waited for them once the cargo hold was open to Soung’s atmosphere. Finally, she ensured that her war spear still had the yellow-green-yellow flag Administrator Dokmor had provided for her. It could mean the difference between saving the Elwharri in Valaroos and having to turn tail. She would not injure any of them, no matter how badly she needed to get to Hishkara. Beside her, Kor held the Emerald Sword banner high, it’s bright colors muted in the soft lighting of the cargo hold.
Fifty danketh huffed anxiously as they dragged bare claws against the deckplates beneath their feet, as if they knew, for the first time, that they were bound for true battle. This time Shaleen, too, would ride, despite being the Kosai. That rule—applicable only in Talgeth—represented what had happened two thousand years earlier when the leader of the last battle rode behind one of his warriors before facing the leader of the Tahn Kree. Until this was resolved, however, she would ride Rhona, a danketh she’d practically grown up with. Rhona was Talgeth-trained and had been Shaleen’s primary mount before becoming the Kosai…back when she had been a striker.
“Ten seconds to touchdown,” the captain said.
Shaleen tightened her grip around the spear and started counting.
At three seconds, they all felt the increased gravity of the descent thrusters pushing hard against the planet’s pull. The danketh growled as the sound of the engines reverberated against the hull with a low thunder. Moments later, there was a bump as the landing struts made contact. Everyone in the hold shuddered once, and several danketh barked out their displeasure.
“Opening the hold,” the captain announced.
Metal clanged, reverberating throughout the compartment, and then a great hissing sound filled everyone’s ears as the main door swung away from them to slowly create a ramp down to the frozen ground beyond. Snow blew around the edges of the door as it opened, carried on bitter, cold air that raced through the gap.
The danketh’s already nervous breathing quickened as the cold air hit their furred bodies. Puffs of steam rose from their muzzles, and they shook their bridles in agitation. They were accustomed to cold temperatures—Shaleen’s family hold was far in the north—but the severe change in atmosphere got their ire up.
The frozen wind bit at Shaleen’s cheeks as it slipped up under her helm, reminding her of the harsh winters that blanketed her family’s hold each year. She breathed deeply, sucking in her first breath of alien air. She blew out a cloud of steam, forcing it down through her nostrils so it would not cloud her visor. A crisp scent of frozen atmosphere bit at her nostrils, but there was a soft, almost floral scent carried upon the air, as well as the musky scent of animals, neither of which were at all familiar to her.
The landscape before her was a rolling plain of white, with occasional black blossoms on stiff stalks poking up through the snow. A strong, snow-filled flurry blew across the plain, obscuring her view and reducing visibility to about thirty meters. A moment later, it passed, giving her a good look at about two hundred meters of open field. There didn’t seem to be anyone out there, although the snow made it difficult to tell. If they were camouflaged, they could be anywhere. It all depended upon how badly a potential enemy scout or force wanted to avoid detection.
She spurred Rhona, and a thrill coursed along her body as her mount clumped down the ramp. The wind howled around them as she led the company away from the ship and across a snow-swept field. She looked up to see the flag standing stiffly out to the side. She only hoped that it was enough to make the Elwharri ask questions before shooting. If there was a sniper out there, she probably wouldn’t know anything until a shot was piercing her armor and burning or tearing through her body.
Shaleen turned in her saddle and looked back at the company as Rhona kept moving forward. The danketh’s thick claws bit into the snow, leaving the telltale tracks of her species, while her hot breath was carried away in small puffs of steam. Kor held the banner of the Emerald Sword aloft upon his spear. It’s blue-green field fluttered in the wind, and the proud, single green sword split the field in two. The sight of it filled Shaleen with pride. They were the Emerald Sword, and they would be victorious or die in the attempt.
“Halek, Kor,” she said, confident the comm system would convey her words, “stay ten meters behind me. I want the company in five columns by squad, and keep back twenty meters behind my brothers. If we see Elwharri, and I call a halt, you are to stay where you are no matter what happens to me. Our only hope is that they see the flag and are willing to talk. If they get me, Halek will take charge and move you around to the south to engage Hishkara from that direction. Do not, I repeat, do not engage the Elwharri, under any circumstances…even if it means our deaths. We will not fight these people. Am I understood?”
“Kosai!” they all shouted in unison. Their voices were clear in her ears. She was glad they’d installed the comms. They were illegal during game play, but the company was a very long way from any Talgeth field.
She nodded, turned in her saddle, and then spurred Rhona forward at an easy, ground-chewing trot. The entire
colony would have seen and heard the ship coming down, so she doubted she would get to them before they found her.
They’d traveled about five hundred meters, the flurries coming and going, when she spotted something at the edge of her vision about three hundred meters away coming toward her. A flurry of snow obscured it again, and when it passed, she spotted a lone rider astride a horned quadruped with an incredibly shaggy white coat that blew sideways in the wind. It was a lornak, an indigenous herd animal that the Elwharri used both as mounts and as livestock for their pelts and meat. Moments later, she spotted a half-dozen more riders on lornak not far behind the first.
A greeting party.
She glanced to her left and right, wondering if there were Elwharri out in the snow somewhere, drawing a bead upon her, her brothers, and the rest of the company.
She took a deep breath, reveling in the bite of the cold air, and then pressed forward, maintaining the trot. At a hundred meters from the Elwharri, she raised the flag so that it could easily be seen.
“Company, hold,” she ordered.
The sound of clawed feet crunching in the snow ceased behind her, and several danketh huffed their frustration.
Wondering if she was about to die, Shaleen kept moving forward, the flag held high, its bright yellow-green-yellow pattern fluttering in the wind. The distance between her and the riders closed quickly. The lone rider was calm, even stoic, and his breathing was level enough to barely be noticed as he exhaled into the cold air. The six behind him, however, approached nervously. She could see it in their rapid breathing and the way they held her bodies. They nervously clutched at their weapons, and their heads turned left and right in an almost jittery motion. Several carried long-barreled, slow-recycling hunting rifles designed to bring down big game. They weren’t designed for combat, but they could easily penetrate her armor. The others had simple sidearms that were better suited to scaring off predators than they were going into combat. She suspected that all of the colonies had been similarly armed, and if so, it was no wonder Hishkara and his warriors had been able to do so much damage.
She could tell they were all Elwharri, despite being mostly wrapped up in polar gear and thick wraps that protected their tall heads. Several of them had pulled down scarves to reveal the faces of a furred species with triangular heads, short ears, and two pairs of eyes, one above the other. Their muzzles were also somewhat pointed, with even rows of sharp and flattened teeth. The Elwharri normally stood about two meters tall, with long, lithe limbs and angular torsos.
At ten meters apart, Shaleen raised her left hand, palm open, and raised the banner higher. Two riders in the back leveled their long rifles at her, but she made no action other than to nod once slowly.
“I request the privilege of parley,” she said in her own language. She had to hope their comms had translators like hers.
The six riders behind the leader stiffened at the sound of her voice, carried over the wind on an external speaker built into her helm. The lead rider, however, simply nodded and said something in the Elwharri language.
In her earpiece, she heard the translation.
“You have shown the colors, and we must respect the call for parley. Know that there are more weapons than you see, here, trained upon you and your warriors.”
“I understand. I moved us up as I did so you would know we are not here to attack the colony of Valaroos.”
The Elwharri raised an eyebrow.
“And if we were to kill you, here and now,” the Elwharri asked as he drew his pistol and leveled it at her, “what would you do?”
Shaleen’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, and her body stiffened, but she made no other motion. She locked eyes with the Elwharri.
“To you? Nothing,” she replied flatly. “I have ordered my company to not engage the Elwharri, here or anyplace else, under any circumstances. If you kill me, as is your right as payment for what my brother and his fellow renegades have already done to your people, then my company will move around Valaroos and attempt to destroy him and his warriors from the far side. If you attack them, they will move away and still do what they can to kill the renegades.”
“Then what is it you want with us? You could have simply moved around the colony,” the Elwharri barked.
“I want only to ask, that when we engage my brother, you do not shoot at us from behind. If he gets past us, you should use whatever means necessary to destroy him, but we are honor-bound to kill him as quickly as possible.”
He eyed her dubiously. He removed the scarf from his face and lifted a set of goggles. His fur was a shadowy blue and his features were soft, yet his gray eyes were as hard as titanium.
“May I have your name?” he asked.
“I am Shaleen, daughter of Jahnik. My brothers Halek and Kor are behind me, and behind them is my family’s company, the Emerald Sword. So you are aware, we are here to put an end to my brother, Hishkara’s, madness at any cost. Our lives are forfeit until he is dead.”
The old Elwharri nodded. “I remember the honor of the Vorwhol. It was once legendary, but with these despicable attacks, we feared honor had failed your people in the years since the war.”
“It has not,” Shaleen tried to assure him, doing her best to put as much weight into her words as she could.
The Elwharri was silent for a while, his eyes taking in every detail of the Vorwhol warrior before him. Her armor, her mount, the position of her body. He seemed to digest it all, apparently in an attempt to gauge her veracity.
“I am Hyram,” he finally said, “the constable of Valaroos. How do you know Hishkara is coming here?” the old Elwharri asked. “He has always appeared out of nowhere, attacking random colonies without warning.”
“They were not random, and I know this because your colony stands above the ruins of Kumar. It was the place of the last battle on Soung during the war, and your people subsequently renamed it Valaroos, your word for “Peace,” when the war ended. For reasons I am not entirely certain of, he has been re-enacting that sequence of battles from our shared history. I have sworn a blood oath to end his life and take his head to my father so that we may restore our honor.”
Hyram cocked his head to the side as his eyes darted left and right. He seemed to be puzzling something through in his mind.
“Sithstral, Boemare, Relegeth…and now, Kumar.” Shaleen gave him a curious look as he rattled off the names. He locked eyes with her. “I was a schoolteacher once, before they made me Constable. I know much about the last war between us, and you are right about the colonies.” He spoke with a good deal of respect. And then his tone changed to one of anger and frustration. “Your brother is mad.”
“At the very least,” Shaleen said, both shame and apology filling in her words. She gazed into his eyes. “I know I have no right to ask, but I’m going to do it anyway. If you will permit it, we would like to ride around your colony to the southeast. When my brother approaches, we will engage him and kill as many of them as we can. All we ask is that you do not shoot at us. Shoot at him as much as you like.”
Hyram got a thoughtful expression on his face.
“We did not know you were coming, so can I assume he does not know you are here?”
“That is correct,” Shaleen replied. “It is why we did not radio ahead. We didn’t want our presence broadcast to anyone.”
“Then perhaps we can help each other. Let him come. We have set up defenses on the southeast side of the colony just in case he came to us. I have scouts patrolling the southern and eastern sectors. If he comes, we will know of it. And when we open fire and draw all of his attention, you can charge in from the south and surprise him. Do you trust me enough to undertake such a plan?”
“We would keep fighting him even if you chose to keep shooting at all of us, noble Hyram,” she said. “My family owes a debt of blood to your people, and that blood is yours for the taking. My company has sworn their allegiance to me in this endeavor, so they are now bound by the same oat
h.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do what you must to protect your people, Hyram. If it costs me my life and the lives of my entire company, not one more Elwharri will die at the hands of Vorwhol warriors. You have my oath on that.”
“Very well,” Hyram said. “Tune your comms to seventy-two megahertz. When we receive our messages, you will receive them as well.”
“I understand,” Shaleen said.
“There is something else,” Hyram said, “and I have been wondering if it means anything.”
“What is it?” Shaleen asked.
“Miyumar was the last colony to be attacked. The Elwharri there did not have any firearms. When the renegades came, they did not use their ranged weapons.”
“Really?” Shaleen asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Yes,” Hyram said. “We considered laying down our weapons and fighting them hand to hand, but we’re not warriors. We had resigned ourselves, should we be the next colony attacked, to using whatever we had on hand to defend the colony.”
Shaleen nodded, but his words resonated with her. It made sense. Many tales in the Tomahnkhor spoke of honor in battle. Warriors in that age would not use bows if the enemy companies had none. And in the war with the Elwharri, it had been similar in a few cases, but nearly everyone used ranged weapons by then. She was now utterly convinced that Hishkara and his company had reverted completely to the old ways of battle, and an idea started to form in her head. She just didn’t know how she could make it work.
“Hyram,” she said, her voice full of shame.
“What is it?”
“I shall never have enough words to apologize for what has happened here. You should know that I have sworn an oath to your Ambassador and to the Bith. Should either of you ever require it, you may call upon me for any service that does not stain my honor.”
“I shall remember, Shaleen.” He nodded once and then turned his mount to the side. It shook at its bridle, the great horn set in its head a fearsome sight, and then turned around as the other six Elwharri did the same. All seven riders began making their way back the way they had come, the breaths of their mounts puffing out into the wind like steam engines, and Shaleen did the same.
Salvage Conquest Page 49
