by Frank Morin
"You are Blood of the Tallan," she declared in that same tone of victory as the first time she'd said it. "United with me, no one would be able to deny your right to lead. Come back with me, Connor, and together we can do so much good."
Her definition of good was a little unusual. Conquest and oppression might seem good when you were the one enjoying the spoils, but it wouldn't be pleasant for anyone else.
Still, he felt torn.
What if she was even partially right? If they could turn back the army and remove Dougal, they might gain enough leverage to actually make changes from within the Obrioner ruling system. They could potentially save tens or even hundreds of thousands of lives.
All he had to do was sacrifice his future happiness.
Was it selfish to think of his own future more than that of so many others? What else would Shona demand of him? What else would Obrion demand? There had to be a better way.
He needed to speak with Verena, but when he scanned the sky, he saw no sign of her. He was tempted to try the mini-hub, but didn't want Shona seeing the revolutionary new mechanical. He glanced to the center of the valley where the two groups with their prisoners had nearly reached each other. The exchange was about to begin. He was nearly out of time.
Shona was watching him intently, her warm hand still on his arm.
It was a perfect time to test her resolve.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
"The circle of history repeats, and yet there is time to prevent the full reckoning."
~Evander
Hamish soared over the Grandurian force marching south along the road toward the prisoner exchange, exulting in the absolute freedom of flight. In his suit, he was one with the air in a way that not even Verena completely matched. He was starting to suspect Jean might one day get it, though.
She was as brilliant as she was beautiful, and as Hamish swept his Builder senses across the many mechanicals built into his suit, his grin widened. Jean had helped him make some important improvements, and he was eager to test them.
With thrusters firing just enough to keep him hovering at about ten feet, he moved to the front where Erich and Anika led the party. Erich looked eager for a chance to bash fight.
Today he'd get his wish.
Martys, who flanked Erich on the right, looked just as eager, even though he'd be facing his own countrymen. Those two were building such a fascinating friendship, based on the pillars of daily pummeling and mutual lack of understanding.
A hand-picked company of twenty-five Rumblers herded the captured Obrioners toward the exchange point. Captain Rory and his similar company were already advancing up the valley to meet them.
On the right flank of the group, Ilse and Anton flowed across the land on miniature towers. They would deal with Gregor and any elemental threats, leaving the bash fighters to focus on pure, unrestrained violence. Hamish was there just to make Carbrey think the Builders were also focused on the exchange and not planning any other devilry.
Connor was already meeting with Shona and Ivor. That extra bit of complexity increased the chances of something going wrong.
Hamish descended closer to Erich, who was already humming to himself. The man loved to sing battle songs while he fought.
Anika just looked eager and commented in Grandurian, "I feel like a giddy little girl, getting so excited to see him again." A foolish grin momentarily broke her calm expression.
Erich gave her a worried frown. "You are acting pretty silly. Don't let him think he's already won your heart."
"How do I do that?" The honest question in her eyes startled Hamish.
Erich scowled. "Hit him harder."
Hamish actually felt sorry for Anika. He couldn't imagine dealing with the challenges Anika and Rory faced. Captain Rory was respected by people in both countries, and from what Hamish could see, he and Anika were perfectly suited for each other. He could also see the relationship had less than no chance of ever working out.
Anika insisted, "I do. He doesn't care. He's . . ."
"Don't say it," Erich urged.
"He is one I could surrender to." Anika spoke so softly, Hamish almost didn't hear.
"Don't ever say that again," Erich growled, and Hamish found himself nodding.
He'd learned a lot about the culture of the Rumblers in his time in Granadure. As far as he knew, no battle maiden had ever surrendered willingly to an Obrioner.
"What be buzzing up yer britches?" Martys asked, and Hamish chuckled to see the look of confusion on Erich's face.
Erich had told him once that he usually understood maybe two-thirds of what Connor said. He considered Obrioner a barbaric, difficult language. He had decided the language was weak, and he could not tolerate weak things. That's why he had so much trouble with it.
"You seem to figure it out," Hamish had told him.
Erich had shrugged. "When I can't understand, I usually just threaten to punch people. The system seems to work pretty well."
Now Erich turned to Martys and spoke in his broken Obrioner. "Will be good fight Rory."
"No doubt," Martys said with a grimace, for the first time looking nervous.
"You want no be here?" Anika asked.
Martys waved away the question. "Me boy Connor needs me, so I'll see the task through."
The two groups met exactly halfway between the two gathered armies. Even though it was the obvious meeting spot, a Sapper had marked the ground with a sunken "X". Hamish chuckled. He bet it was Saskia's handiwork.
Captain Rory managed to glance away from Anika a couple of times to scan the others. He always looked back quickly, though. Anika scared any man with a shred of interest in self-preservation, but that danger only seemed to attract Rory all the more.
It was too bad they hadn't been born in the same country. Then again, having those two teamed up permanently would be a terrifying force for whichever side commanded their loyalty.
The Grandurian captives looked healthy and eager to return to duty. They'd get their wish sooner than they expected.
Anika stepped forward with that strut she used only for Captain Rory. She utterly failed to conceal her adoring expression as she gazed at him. "Come, mine capitain. We wrestle, yes?"
He gave her a slow grin. "You have no idea how tempting that is."
"Then do," Erich said, cracking his knuckles.
Although he still seemed to hate the fact that Anika had fallen for an Obrioner, he'd explained that he'd proven Rory's strength in the brother-duty contest and couldn't deny Rory was worthy.
"Are you kidding? No threat to break my head?"
Erich shrugged. "Can head break every day."
"We've got time," Tomas said. He and Cameron were watching Erich with obvious eagerness.
Ilse and Anton had moved away from the main company and were meeting privately with Gregor. Seeing those two famous earth walkers standing side by side was an impressive sight, but Hamish was glad he was dealing with big granite Petralists instead.
Rory hesitated and Martys spoke. "It no be that complicated, Captain. If the prisoners exchanging from both sides just happened to get their hands on some of that powder ye were so kind to bring along, we'd have to fight over the spoils, wouldn't we?" He winked and added, "There would be none to notice the two of you wrestling in all the fun."
A look of expectant hope lit up in every face, be they Obrioner or Grandurian. Hamish wanted to laugh. Bash fighting for them was the purest form of contest, stone beating stone in the ultimate test of strength.
"You're a wise man," Cameron said, grinning. "Why do I feel like I know you?"
Martys said quickly, "We no have met, but I know you lot by reputation."
Rory considered him. "Few Guardians desert to the enemy, and you're not even turned unclaimed."
"I be the truest patriot ye'll ever meet," Martys said with a shrug. "Like I tell me nephew Connor, failing means yer playin', an' I mean to grant yer boys a public skelping today."
Erich frowned at M
artys, clearly not understanding. So he grunted and pounded one fist into his other open palm. It seemed appropriate.
Tomas chortled. "Ha! Captain, you've got to approve a little bash fight now."
Cameron grinned in agreement. "We're so used to teaching, it'll be fun to inflict some learning on one of Connor's relatives for a change."
Martys grinned. "I dinnae mean a little bash fight, laddie. We no do things by halves here at Altkalen. How many times have ye gotten a bash fight to last as long as ye want?"
"Never." Everyone within earshot answered in unison.
"It's a very tempting offer," Rory said, rubbing his stubbled chin and looking at Anika, who blew him an inviting kiss.
"Fight many good," Erich urged.
Hamish decided to add a final push. "It's not like you have anything better to do, Captain. We are men of action. Leaving now is like choosing to dig new latrines instead of fighting."
Cameron grimaced. "I hate digging latrines."
"You have to stop using your teeth," Tomas replied.
Hamish said, "Once the main assault begins, the tertiaries will get all the fun. Could be hours before you get another chance."
Rory nodded and a grin spread over his face. "You're as clever with words as you are with those mechanicals, Builder. It's a sad day that Obrion lost you."
"That whole death sentence thing made it hard to stay."
"Let's get organized then, shall we?" Rory said, rubbing his hands together.
"Release the prisoners and prepare to fight!" Erich shouted in Grandurian.
They completed the exchange in record time and distributed powder to every warrior. Even though the Striders and Wingrunners were eager to participate, there wasn't room for a running battle. Reluctantly, they agreed to remain in reserve, but promised to lend a hand wherever possible.
Then with a simple raised fist, Rory signified they were ready.
"Charge!" Erich shouted and led the way, bellowing his favorite boisterous battle song. He swelled with granite power and pounded forward to meet Tomas and Cameron.
Rory and Anika came together with a crack of rock-hard bodies, beating on each other with a fury that most people would misinterpret as actual hatred. They laughed as they fought. After the first exchange, they paused for a deep, passionate kiss.
Although Rory had proven himself in the honor duel at the Carraig, the sight of his beloved sister kissing a barbarian still enraged Erich. Venting the anger in a roaring bellow, he leaped upon Cameron and pounded him to the ground with a single overwhelming blow. Tomas tackled him immediately, and the resulting fierce pounding between them was exactly what the men seemed to need.
Anika finally broke off the kiss and punched Rory off his feet. After that, they fought with such brutal ferocity that no one ventured near them. Rory was grinning even as he beat her face. She sang a hauntingly beautiful battle song that stirred Hamish's heart as he listened.
Hamish soared over the fighting at first, just watching the lines crash together. Boulders and Rumblers beat on each other with unrestrained fury. Few received major injuries, and they looked like they'd happily pummel each other all day, if given the chance.
Martys started singing a discordant highland chant as he plunged into the fight against his own countrymen. Hamish was impressed. If only they could settle the war with an enormous bash fight. The armies would have so much more fun, and they'd save countless lives.
Hamish decided he could watch Erich fighting Tomas and Cameron for hours. The two Fast Rollers worked together perfectly, even while they insulted each other and teased Erich relentlessly. They hit with fists like hammers, and no matter how many times Erich pounded them off their feet, they rebounded, grinning as widely as he was.
The two fought with brutal efficiency. Even though Erich was one of the best bash fighters among the Rumblers, their combined attacks thundered into him and tumbled him to the ground again and again. His skin cracked in half a dozen places from their brutal beating, but he didn't seem to care.
Shouted battle cries, grunts of pain, and the crack of mortal combat echoed around the melee. Hamish rose to twenty feet and surveyed the scene with satisfaction. Talk about an excellent diversion.
Cameron took a brutal hit from Erich, but only staggered back a step and laughed. "Your voice hurts more than those girly fists of yours ever will."
Then Martys shoved a fist into his mouth and the two tumbled to the ground, rolling and beating on each other with unrestrained glee.
"You face break eye," Erich laughed at Tomas as the two of them exchanged a rapid flurry of heavy punches.
"And you talk like a baby," Tomas retorted.
Erich grabbed him by the head and threw him into a knot of struggling warriors nearby. The entire group went down in a heap of pummeling brutes. Erich raised his fists in triumph and roared with battle fury.
"Big baby. Throw tantrum." Cameron laughed, landing a flying kick into Erich's ribs and sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt.
Hamish was tempted to intervene, to test his new battle suit enhancements, but he didn't want to interrupt their fun. Martys was fighting like a Rumbler who finally found his way home. Erich plunged into the thickest of the fighting, flinging soldiers from both armies out of the way to face Tomas again, singing louder than ever. They might be bitter enemies, but they shared the simple joy of brutal bash fighting.
Hamish felt a stirring of battle fury as he watched. He had to go meet Verena, but he needed to hit someone first. Even Ilse was participating. He caught sight of her punching Gregor, then the ground erupted between them.
If the tertiaries were entering the battle, that might wreck the whole bash fight. Hamish was out of time. He scanned the battlefield again and noticed a group of Boulders had formed into a tight knot on the right flank and were pushing the Rumblers back.
Perfect. Hamish soared over that way and tossed a midget pounder to the ground at the leading edge of those Boulders. The little wall rose only two feet, just high enough to plow into soldiers' knees.
It slid south for ten feet, sending Boulders tumbling in every direction and shattering their tight little unit. Rumblers swarmed the fallen Boulders, beating them back to the ground as they tried to rise.
In a tiny pocket of calm, one burly Obrioner Boulder looked up at Hamish and waved mightily. "Hey, coward! Come face a real man."
That was exactly what Hamish was looking for. So he settled to the ground several feet away from the man, ready to unleash everything at him when he charged.
Someone tackled him from behind.
It felt like he was run over by one of his own speedcrack walls. The impact blasted him off his feet and knocked the wind out of him. He crashed to the ground before he could think to activate his thrusters, and a heavy weight slammed on top of him.
Strong arms encircled him, and he was surprised to hear a woman's voice speak into his ear. "For someone who's supposed to be so dangerous, you're an idiot."
"Just trying to fit in," Hamish croaked, struggling in vain against her powerful grip. "You've mastered the whole hitting a guy while his back is turned perfectly."
The woman growled, "I'm going to squeeze you to jelly, and my boyfriend's going to rip your head off. We'll be heroes! The first to kill a Builder in three centuries."
Hamish had blind coal available, but that wasn't nearly sporting enough. "Murder isn't heroic."
He activated tiny jets set into the torso of his suit. They ejected a film of slime that he and Jean had developed just the night before. As it coated the leaves of his battle jacket, they became slick and he managed to twist in the woman's grasp to face her.
She grinned at him. "You can't escape, Builder. The last face you'll see before you die is mine."
Her boyfriend hovered close by, laughing and making sure no one interfered. "Rip him in half, love!"
Hamish shuddered. She wasn't exactly ugly, but she wasn't Jean. "And the last thing you'll see for a while is this."
Perfect.
Hamish ignited a tiny piece of quartzite at the base of one of three little vials set into protective sheaths along the sides of his helmet.
Extract of milked skunk.
The vial blasted into the woman's open mouth and splattered against the back of her throat.
She gagged, then her entire body stiffened. Half a second later, she screamed and threw Hamish away. He activated thrusters and caught himself four feet off the ground, then pivoted to look at the results of all his hard work.
The woman was howling and scrambling around on the ground, shoveling handfuls of dirt into her mouth. Her skin had shifted from granite-hardened gray to sickly green. She vomited explosively all over herself several times.
Each heave grew more powerful than the last, until it looked like she was trying to suck her feet up through her stomach and spit them into the nasty pile of chunky liquid splattering her and the ground all around. Even from several feet away, the strong stench of skunk was nearly overwhelming.
Her gaping boyfriend glared at Hamish. "What did you do to her, you demon?"
"I promised to kiss her. I think she's overreacting, don't you?"
The Boulder shouted with rage and charged. "I'll rip your arms off!"
He was a lot more optimistic than intelligent.
Hamish swooped at the man and twisted in the air to avoid the grasping hands. As he flew past, he shoved a diorite dart down the front of the man's leather pants.
The muted thump of the single grain of diorite exploding was followed by a remarkably high-pitched shriek. The man clutched his groin and toppled to the ground next to his still-shrieking girlfriend, who promptly threw up all over him.
As Hamish soared into the air, he lifted his hands in victory. He'd started developing the battle suit to prove he could face down Petralists and win.
