Salvage Conquest

by Chris Kennedy

  “You heard?” she asked when she reached her company.

  “We did,” Halek said. “Everyone switch frequencies.”

  The entire company reached up to a small set of controls at the back of their helms, and a readout in their visors lit up, showing the comm frequency. Shaleen set hers and then moved off away from the company several meters and turned Rhona back to face them.

  “Warriors,” she said, “soon I and my brothers will attempt to wash away a stain of blood. Once again, I offer to all of you the opportunity to return to the ship and home. You are not obligated to assist us in what we must do. You have come this far, and for that I am eternally grateful. However, once we set out from here, we will keep going until we see this done or spill our blood on the snow of an alien world. So, I ask you one last time, who is with us?”

  “Kosai!” they all shouted together, raising their fists above their heads.

  “So be it,” Shaleen said. “The Emerald Sword will face Hishkara, and we will take his head.”

  “Kosai!” they shouted again.

  “I want a single line, two meter spacing,” she ordered. “Spread out, spears held high. Kor, you ride beside me. I want everyone to see the banner of the Emerald Sword.”

  “Yes, Kosai,” he said.

  Shaleen turned Rhona around and took off at a swift trot, heading toward the southern edge of the Valaroos colony. She heard the company spread out behind her, just as she’d instructed, and after a few dozen meters, their mounts had all matched her stride. Thud-thud-thud…thud-thud-thud…thud-thud-thud…The heavy feet of the danketh pounded into the frozen plain, kicking up great gouts of chewed snow and earth.

  Shaleen smiled. She didn’t know if her company was still being watched by the Elwharri—she assumed they were—but it didn’t matter either way. They would not factor into whatever happened next, assuming everything went according to plan. She was the Kosai of the Emerald Sword, and she would see this thing done.

  They rode to engage Hishkara and his renegades. The Emerald Sword was a company of professionals, hardened by the game and capable of defeating the very best her people had to offer. That they had never been in actual combat mattered little. Hishkara was as capable as they came, but the rest of his renegades were not. She had no doubt they had trained before coming to Soung, but nothing could have prepared them like professional Talgeth. She nodded as they rode. She would see this done, and although there would be many casualties, she felt certain Hishkara’s head would be returned to their father.

  They moved forward, and the colony of Valaroos came into view on their left, less than a quarter of a kilometer distant. It was a half-modern and half-primitive looking place, with dozens of prefab structures as well as barns and some domiciles that appeared to have been built out of sod and roofed by the grasses that presumably sprang up in the warmer months.

  Shaleen spotted barricades, including wagons, vehicles, and even furniture laid out at a number of entry points around the colony, and there was movement behind each one. She also spotted at least a dozen mounted Elwharri, each of them astride the large, shaggy horned beasts indigenous to Soung.

  She approached the colony at an angle, drawing her company to within one hundred meters before following the perimeter in a wide curve. She saw and felt Elwharri weapons trained upon her and her company. She knew, if her approach was misinterpreted, they would open fire, but something told her she could trust Hyram to do so only if he sensed an attack was imminent.

  She glanced over one shoulder and then the other, taking in the hundred-meter-wide line of armored Vorwhol. The flurries had lightened somewhat, and there was a hint of sunshine coming through the clouds. Each time it broke through, light glinted off spears and armor, flashing brilliantly, and the sight of it filled Shaleen with pride.

  The crystalline sound of a single horn rang out from somewhere off to her right, well away from the colony.

  “Shaleen!” Halek shouted. “Forty-five degrees right!”

  She spun her head in that direction, and as a wall of swirling snow receded, she spotted a flash of gold and blue along an irregular line. Hishkara decided to approach from the south, she thought.

  “Company, swing right and hold on my command!” Shaleen shouted.

  About five hundred meters away, she could just make out a line of mounted Vorwhol warriors.

  She veered toward the company, and their banner came into view.

  “Hold!” she shouted. As she stared at their banner, she realized that she had guessed correctly. The banner had been taken out of Vorwhol history books. It was a deep-blue field surrounded by a golden border, and at its center was a rampant danketh in all its fury. The banner had once been the standard of the warlord Yusyrn, the Kosai who had led the forces against Kumar. Her brother had, indeed, lost his mind.

  She grabbed a set of image enhancers from her saddle, raised them to her eyes, and scanned the enemy formation. They wore ancient-looking, but serviceable, armor. It looked like it had come out of a museum, and if she was right, then it would be hardened steel, not titanium. She focused on the center of their line and spotted Hishkara. She knew it was him right away, because he was mounted upon a danketh she knew almost as well as she knew Rhona.

  Harn.

  She’d helped train Harn, Hishkara’s favorite mount, along with the rest of her father’s herd.

  And then something struck her.

  The line of Hishkara’s riders were just standing there, the steady puffs of water vapor coming from beneath their helms. They had made no motion to move toward them. They were immobile, Yusyrn’s banner waving in the wind. She watched as her brother took the banner from the standard bearer on his left. He rode forward a dozen meters or so, and then he lay the standard flat so that the banner almost touched the ground. He left it there for a few seconds, raised it over his head, and then lifted the banner once again over his body so that it lay flat the other way for a few seconds. Lifting the banner skyward once again, he jammed it into the frozen ground beside his mount. Riding forward a few more meters, he turned his head and, presumably, gave an order. The whole of his company rode forward in a single line, drawing even with him so that the banner fluttered in the breeze behind them.

  At first, it seemed peculiar to Shaleen, but then she remembered an ancient battle detailed in the Tomahnkhor. In one of the tales, siblings had faced one another after one of them had taken sides with the Tahn Kree. It has to be, she thought. Just as it had been in the tale of Lowenthar and Jumorn. The Tomahnkhor held such contests to a specific set of rules, and she now had a choice to make. Hishkara was giving her the opportunity to decide the nature of the battle that was about to take place. It took only a moment for her to make her decision.

  Halek rode up beside her and leaned in.

  “What is he doing?” he asked.

  “He’s following the rules of the Tomahnkhor,” she replied.

  “What does that mean?” Halek asked.

  She looked to her left and right where her company looked at her expectantly. She let out a long breath, wondering how the next few minutes would go for them…how many would die. She took her war spear, the parley colors still fluttering, and jammed it into the ground beside her.

  “Hyram,” she said into the comms. “Are you listening?”

  “I am.”

  “There’s a change of plan,” Shaleen said. “Watch us. When we engage, you and your people will know what to do.”

  “Understood,” he replied a bit nervously.

  “Emerald Sword,” she then said, pulling the laser carbine from her saddle and drawing her pistol. “I want you to leave your firearms here. Drop them on the ground.” With that, she let both of her weapons fall into the snow. “We will engage the enemy company in the old ways, and I want you all to execute a full run through. Protect yourselves at all costs as we make our first pass.”

  She heard a few surprised grumbles come through the comms, but she saw every one of her warriors draw th
eir ranged weapons and let them fall to the ground.

  “Kor,” she said, turning to her brother. “Give me the standard.”

  “Are you sure—”

  “Give it to me,” she ordered, and her tone permitted no discussion.

  “Yes, Kosai,” he replied. He got Sula to sidestep over to her and handed her their standard.

  Shaleen took it and rode forward a dozen meters. She repeated the motions Hishkara had made with his own standard, and then she planted it firmly into the ground beside her. She rode forward several meters, leaving the banner behind, and then turned in the saddle.

  “Emerald Sword,” she shouted. “Form up on me and prepare for battle!”

  She drew her blade and held it aloft as the Emerald Sword drew up beside her, their spears and swords glinting in a wash of sunlight that passed over the field, highlighting both companies.

  She watched the enemy formation drop drop their own ranged weapons in the snow, and then Hishkara drew his sword. The entire enemy line became a wall of glittering steel.

  Shaleen took a deep breath and felt the battle ardor take hold. She wanted this conflict. She wanted to test her mettle against that of her treacherous brother. Her nostrils flared, and her heart quickened its pace.

  “Company…CHARGE!” she shouted, and then she spurred Rhona hard and raced toward her brother, with his death the only thing on her mind.

  * * *

  The Subahn

  Soung

  The Last Battle of Kumar

  The clawed feet of a hundred danketh pounded across the snow as both companies closed the distance between them. Great white puffs blasted from their muzzles as they ran. Both lines had spread out somewhat, leaving gaps between their mounts wide enough to swing a weapon…or for a danketh to charge through. Each warrior, just as if they were upon a Talgeth field, lined him or herself up with a member of the enemy company as swirling walls of snow passed between them. The flurries obscured their view for moments and opened up again, revealing an ever-closer enemy.

  With each pounding claw-beat, Shaleen drew nearer the final confrontation with her brother. Fear and exhilaration fought for dominance within her heart, and she reveled in the feeling. Her blood pumped through her veins, and she coaxed her battle ardor to its limit, washing away the fear. Hishkara had always been better than she when they were growing up, but she had trained hard to become the best of the Emerald Sword.

  And now we will see whose blade is stronger.

  She was the Kosai, and her company the Subahn. They would be victorious, and her family’s honor restored, or she would give her life in the attempt, just as her ancestors did time and time again in the histories of the Vorwhol people. As the snow flashed past and the thunder of the danketh filled her ears, she suddenly realized why she had felt the emotions she had upon the balcony at the hotel. Talgeth wasn’t enough. Championships weren’t enough. She was a warrior, and—gods help her—the spirit of her ancestry filled her to the brim. In a flash, she fully embraced the flame of battle ardor and let it burn her entire being.

  She hunkered down in her saddle and spurred Rhona harder. The beast surged forward as Hishkara’s form filled her vision. She couldn’t see his face behind the helm, but she could have picked him out of any line. The line of his shoulders, how he sat in the saddle, even the way he held his blade, its point aimed directly at her face…all of it left no confusion as to who she was about to engage in battle.

  As one, Hishkara’s line of warriors began slowing their mounts as they prepared to engage the Emerald Sword. Good, Shaleen thought. It was just as she’d anticipated.

  “Do not slow down,” she shouted into the comms. “Pass on the right and turn them around!” Part of her wanted to charge straight into her brother and do what she could to hack him to pieces. But she had something else in mind, for victory was not always won with the blade.

  She shifted the reins in her hand, pulling Rhona’s head slightly and angling the great beast into the gap between Hishkara and the rider beside him. She raised her sword just as Hishkara lifted his, but where his was angled for a deadly slash, hers became a shield.

  The two lines slammed together, and the ring of steel and titanium crescendoed over the sound of thundering danketh. She heard the roars and screams of Vorwhol mounts. Hishkara’s blade came down at her, and when their blades met with a clang of metal, the vibration bit at her hand and shivered all the way up her shoulder.

  Rhona’s speed carried Shaleen past her brother in a flash. She shifted her blade over her head, trailing the edge down along her back, and felt another impact as Hishkara slashed at her back. Shaleen smiled. Hishkara’s attack was a trick their father had taught them, and she’d been expecting it.

  “Company LEFT,” she shouted into the comms.

  As one, the Emerald Sword turned hard, kicking up snow and frozen soil. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that seven of Hishkara’s company lay, unmoving, upon the ground. Several of them were impaled on war spears, and the rest had been dismounted and crashed into the snow where they writhed in pain. Two of the Emerald Sword had also been dismounted and were rising to their feet, blades drawn.

  As Shaleen had anticipated, the whole of Hishkara’s company had turned their mounts in the snow and were coming around to face them, but they’d lost a good deal of their momentum. She led her company another hundred yards in a wide arc, angling around to line up at an off angle between Hishkara’s company and the Elwharri colony.

  “Halt,” she shouted when the positioning was just right, “and hold!”

  She yanked back on the reins as did the rest of her company, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement originating from the colony. The Emerald Sword came to a grinding halt as Hishkara’s company veered toward her and reformed their line.

  “Hyram,” she said into the comm, “Do not worry about us. Do what you have to do.”

  There was no reply, but she could see his people racing across the snow.

  Hishkara spurred his mount as he raised his sword, and the line of danketh to his left and right surged forward.

  “Back up,” she ordered, and pulled back on the reins. Rhona and many of her company’s danketh growled their frustration, but they obeyed and started clomping backwards, their great claws rending the snow beneath them.

  She watched as Hishkara’s head jerked once in surprise, and then he looked over his shoulder to where the Elwharri had picked up the fallen weapons of the Emerald Sword. Hishkara looked at his line, and Shaleen suspected he had shouted an order, but it was too late.

  The Elwharri opened fire with Vorwhol weapons.

  Green lances of coherent light blasted out in a staccato rhythm of death. A flash of light slashed into Hishkara’s turned torso, and he toppled from his saddle and crashed into the snow. A dozen of Hishkara’s warriors also fell in the first volley, and then another dozen. And another.

  Shaleen and the entire Emerald Sword watched as Elwharri colonists cut down the Vorwhol warriors who had killed hundreds of their kin. She had positioned her company so that any stray shots would pass well to the left of their position. As Hishkara’s warriors died, she felt the battle ardor fade with each beat of her heart. Part of her was saddened that she had not been able to clash with her enemy in the heat of battle. But for all her ardor, she was also wise enough to see the situation for what it had always been.

  She smiled again as she remembered a quote from the Tomahnkhor.

  The rules of peace are immutable. The rules of war, however, are as malleable as molten steel. Honor alone determines what is right.

  And in her estimation, the Elwharri deserved this victory, not the Emerald Sword.

  Honor demanded it.

  “Dismount and slay the survivors,” Shaleen ordered. “None of them are to leave Soung.”

  She lifted her leg over Rhona’s back and dropped down to the ground, and when she did, the Elwharri ceased fire. Her pace was as slow as death, itself. She heard her feet cr
unching in the snow, but her eyes were fixed upon where her brother lay only a few meters from Harn.

  She stared at the line of fallen Vorwhol bodies that lay scattered across the frozen plain. Most of their danketh, clearly not Talgeth-trained, had run off a short distance before coming to a stop thirty meters away. They huddled together, huffing and growling their confusion.

  As she and her warriors approached, she saw several of Hishkara’s warriors rise out of the snow and attack, screaming battle cries. Without pity or mercy, they were cut down by the Emerald Sword.

  She drew near where her brother lay and saw that his right arm had almost been taken off. The exposed flesh was charred black, with patches of red and a pattern of streaming blood that seeped out onto the snow. Steam rose from the wound in wispy trails as the air began to freeze the blood into ruby trails along his flesh and armor. He pulled off his helm as she walked up, and his eyes were full of pain and fury.

  She glanced at Harn, who stood by, almost oblivious to what was going on. The beast had been well trained, after all.

  “Harn,” she said, pointing to where the other danketh had grouped up. “Go.”

  The big danketh shook his massive head, sniffed at her several times, and then trotted off like an obedient pet.

  “Your dishonor knows no bounds,” Hishkara screamed. “You have defiled the Tomahnkhor and the memories of our ancestors!”

  She stared into his golden eyes. She saw hints of their father and even herself in his maroon features. His horns were nearly identical to hers, and the sound of his voice was very much like her brother, Halek’s.

  “You are wrong, Brother,” she said sadly. “The dishonor is yours.” She crouched beside him, just out of reach, and let out a long breath. “I read the Tomahnkhor. All of it. And much more. Father said it would help me defeat you, so that we could erase the stain of blood you placed upon us all with these treacherous attacks.”