Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) (19 page)

She jolted back to the present when a gunshot echoed through the trees and her violet shields flared to life around her. Greenstar jumped in fright, and Toria had her hands full keeping the mare from bolting.

Her mind raced while she calmed the horse. An item coming toward her at high speed had activated the physical shields that lay dormant around her until needed. With a thought, she pulled them up again, settling the comforting amethyst prisms around herself. Greenstar protested at the shell of light forming around her, but otherwise did not act up. Maybe because it wasn’t made of water.

With that glib thought echoing in her head, she pulled the saber from the scabbard at her waist, sparing one more wish for her familiar rapier. Her brief inspection found no one, and a second attack did not follow on the heels of the first. So, a warning shot, and perhaps they weren’t out to kill her. She was five miles from the city at this point, enough distance that nearby Roman activity did not surprise her.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Toria wheeled Greenstar around a slow circle in the middle of the path. She refused to be frightened off by one hidden soldier. It might not even be an enemy soldier, just a local hunter who’d thought she was game. Larger than usual game, but she could give them the benefit of the doubt.

No one emerged from the underbrush at her summons. She knew she made a menacing sight with sword brandished and shields glinting around her. They were smart, whoever they were.

Her shields flared again, deflecting the bullet that hit one of the fractal edges. The echoes of a gunshot reverberated in the woods around her, unmistakable in the silence of the forest. This time Greenstar wouldn’t stand for the excitement. Toria managed to keep herself in the saddle with sword still in hand when the mare took off at full charge. It might have been intimidating if Toria hadn’t been so concerned about not falling off and impaling herself on the way down.

She grabbed the reins in her free hand, resisting the urge to jerk them back. “Stupid horse!” Greenstar took Toria farther down the path, straight in the direction of who knew how many more enemies. “Slow the hell down!”

But the horse ignored her pleas, and the mad dash had one side bonus: her complete surprise of the mysterious attacker. No more gunshots barked behind them, and Greenstar soon followed a bend in the path that took them out of sight, and thus safe from more gunshots for the immediate future.

Once out from the direct line of fire, Toria calmed the mare down enough to come to a restless stop. Toria let her have her nervous whickers. It was preferable to her bolting again.

Silence reigned from the trees around them, aside from the sound of some birds in the far distance. Like Greenstar, the gunshot frightened away the rest of the local wildlife. Smart animals. Stupid horse. Toria sheathed her sword in favor of the pistol holstered at the small of her back, sparing a brief wish for the shotgun still locked up at home.

Even more than the shotgun, Toria wished for her magic. It was quite a change, having to rely on her normal eyesight to scope out danger instead of switching on her magesight and scanning for human—or werecreature or elven—auras among the emerald glow of the trees. And bolts of lightning were much more effective than tiny bullets.

Instead, nothing. “Okay, Greenstar.” Wait, was that movement? No, a robin fluttering to a different branch. “What do we want to do now?”

The mare swiveled an ear back toward the sound of her rider’s mutterings but did not deign to comment. Now that they were out of direct danger, the horse seemed bored.

“Well, we can’t go back the way we came or we’ll get shot at again.” With a gentle touch, lest she set off another mind-boggling headache, Toria tested the strength of her shields. The attacker was a lousy shot if he’d been trying to take her out. Both blows had glanced, and she just needed to tighten a few corners, whereas direct hits would have required major rebuilding.

Slouching back in the saddle, Toria continued talking. “Maybe they were warning shots?” She was too used to having Kane around if she’d resorted to conversing with her horse. “Either way, we might have just screwed ourselves since you decided to run even farther into the direction they probably didn’t want us to go.”

The snap of a branch made Toria whirl around in the saddle and bring up the gun. A Roman legionnaire in half battle armor emerged from the woods a handful of paces behind her. Toria did not appreciate the full-blown smirk on his face. “You got that right, kid.” He couldn’t have been the shooter from earlier, but he did have his own pistol at his waist to accompany the standard-issue gladius. It must have been an accomplice, urging her into this trap. But two soldiers with guns? These were no ordinary foot soldiers, to be trusted with such valuable equipment.

The dig at her age did nothing to help Toria’s anger. “You’re in Limani territory, sir,” she said, in the most level voice she could manage. “State your name and business.”

“Julius Octavian at your service, miss,” the soldier said. “Scout for the Eighth Legion, investigating the state of this road.”

“And why the hell would you need to know a thing like that?” Toria said. With the gun stilled aimed at Octavian, her other hand drifted toward the hilt of her saber. She wasn’t messing around.

He was too relaxed. So much for the famed Roman chivalry, but Toria gave him credit for not being stupid enough to bow and take his eyes off her. “Scoping out possible supply routes,” Octavian said. “Or escape routes.”

“And why would you need either?” This veneer of civility was wearing thin. Toria searched for signs of rank on his uniform, but nothing stood out from his camouflage. Asaron’s lessons on foreign rank had been a long time ago. But Octavian looked to be in his mid-forties, much too old for a simple recruit.

“One never knows what one will need,” Octavian said.

No rank, too old, and way too comfortable in her gun sight. Plus the hints of long-healed scarring creeping up the side of his neck above his gear. So. Special ops, then, or something close to it. The first shiver of real fear trickled a clammy path down the sweat on Toria’s back. “Well, you seem to have gotten lost in your search.” Her own poise in the face of an experienced fighter amazed her. This guy was no Max. “Will you kindly allow me to escort you out of Limani territory?”

Octavian took a small step forward, and Toria fought to keep the gun from wavering in her grip. Now he wasn’t relaxed, but instead held himself with a purpose unclear behind his calm. “What a noble offer from a woman of such status,” he said. “Whatever have I done to warrant the regard of the daughter of the vampire Victory?”

Toria froze, a litany of curses flowing through her mind. Only one way he could know her identity. “You have Kane and Asaron.”

Octavian gave a single nod that spoke volumes. “The vampire Asaron and the warrior-mage Kane Nalamas are with the Eighth Legion, yes. And it would be my honor to have Toria Connor join them.” He took another step toward Greenstar.

Toria realized her gun hand had drifted down and snapped it onto Octavian again. “What the hell have you done with them?”

“They are our honored guests.” Octavian’s smile, while attempting to be disarming, made Toria’s skin crawl. “And what a pleasure it would be to have a pair of warrior-mages gracing our camp on the eve of battle.”

What? The startling confirmation of the worst threw her for a loop. “Eve of battle—?”

That single second of mental distraction was all Octavian needed. He slipped under her gun and wrapped strong fingers around her wrist, jerking it away from him with a snap. A sudden wrench of pain seared Toria’s arm and she cried out, giving Octavian all the time he needed to grab her shoulder with his other arm and pull her from the saddle.

Her instinctual attempt to surge electricity through her shields backfired, instead burning a sharp path through the center of her skull. She lay dazed on the ground, not quite sure when she’d landed. When her vision cleared, the sight of Octavian mere inches away from her face prompted her to lash out in a more controlled manner. She brought up the elbow of her right arm, aiming for a fierce blow to his jaw.

But he snagged both of her wrists and pinned her to the ground. With practiced ease, he transferred her wrists to one large hand, digging them into the ground above her head. He straddled her chest, centering enough weight on her to make breathing difficult. His free hand circled her neck, and she froze when he began to squeeze, knowing it wouldn’t take much to make her pass out from the combination of forces upon her body.

He shouldn’t have managed to take her out so fast. Her reflexes were shot thanks to yesterday’s insults. Time to reconsider her strategy.

To his credit, he lessened his grip when she stopped struggling. “Good girl,” Octavian said. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do.” His hand remained where it was, ready to tighten around her throat again.

Toria couldn’t move without risking strangulation, but that didn’t mean she would lay back and take whatever he gave her. Behind teeth gritted in fear, she said, “Bite me.” Oh, for the power to call lightning from the sky straight on this guy.

Octavian loomed even closer, putting his mouth to her ear. “Don’t tempt me, girl.”

His breath tickled her cheek, and she twisted her face away from him. Octavian blew again, this time on her neck, and she could not prevent the terrified shivers racking her body. She couldn’t move, and she almost couldn’t breathe. This was not good.

Octavian laughed, pulling his head back once more. “Paying attention now? Good.” His long blond hair was pulling loose from the small club at the base of his neck. He blew a few stray strands away out of the corner of his mouth, an incongruous gesture in the midst of such a threatening act. “Now, technically we’re still in Limani territory,” he said, his conversational tone belying the harsh glint in his dark eyes. “So I can’t do what I ordinarily would in these circumstances.”

“Juggle and hunt for unicorns?”

His hand twitched around her throat. She took the hint and shut up.

Her captor knew that if he wanted her in any position to talk, he couldn’t cut off her air for a long period of time. But he could squeeze her wrists together, pushing them into the ground and digging his nails into the tender skin. Even blunt nails hurt with enough pressure. “Unicorns wouldn’t come within a hundred feet of me,” Octavian said.

She forced down the immediate retort that sprang to mind. Baiting him in her position wasn’t the best of the past few days’ bad ideas, but she wasn’t one to lie back and take whatever he dished out. But she still couldn’t inhale enough to fill her lungs. Never mind his grip on her neck, the guy was heavy! So she kept quiet this time. Maybe letting him explain what the hell he was doing on this side of the river was a better idea.

His hand left her neck, though the grip on her wrists was still firm, and he ran it down the side of her body in parody of a gentle caress. Toria never took her eyes from his, but she could feel his disturbing touch through her coat and shirt. Then the touch grew harsh, and he gripped her breast and gave it a sharp twist.

Toria couldn’t prevent her yelp of pain, and she didn’t like the hungry expression that passed over Octavian. But the pain was secondary to her anger. “So do whatever you’re going to do to me and get the hell out of here,” she said.

That might have taken things a bit too far. She steeled herself for the inevitable. When first discussing her potential future with the Mercenary Guild, Victory hadn’t shied away from discussing the realities of female mercenary life with her daughter. Toria knew what Octavian was threatening. But if he did try anything, she would risk the most painful headache in the universe to incinerate him where he knelt.

He smirked. “Alas, we are still in Limani territory. That would be breaking more treaties than I intend to just yet.” His harsh grip on her breast loosened, but his hand remained where it was. “But remember. I could take what I wanted from you, right here, right now.” He drew closer again, and this time she did not turn away. “What makes you think I haven’t taken what I want from your partner yet? Unlike you, he is not protected by Limani land. And he has only himself to blame for that.”

The pronouncement was designed to scare her, but it only made her more irritated with him. Unless the Romans cursed Kane too, there was no way he would allow this man within ten feet of him against his will. This would be an appropriate place for Toria to spit in Octavian’s face, but the angle was all wrong and she didn’t want to end up drooling on herself. Not quite the intended effect. “What happened to ‘honored guests’?”

“Everything’s relative,” Octavian said. His hand stayed on her breast. “Since I cannot do what I wish to such an impertinent brat, regardless of how helpless you are right now, you’ll have to serve some other purpose.”

His hand squeezed again, and Toria hoped her expression of disgust was quite evident to him. Not that it would have much effect, since he seemed to get off on that sort of thing. “And what’s that?”

“Messenger,” he said. “I want you to tell the vampire Victory that the Roman Emperor has decreed an expansion to his colonial borders across the ocean. Since we have already expanded south to the Peninsula of Leon and west to the Wasteland, there is only one logical direction in which to go. And Limani stands in our way.”

Mama was right. The new kid ruling the Romans was an idiot. She couldn’t help it—the words came spilling out. “You do realize that on the other side of Limani are the British, right? And even if the Brits don’t give a shit about us, they’re really not going to appreciate you sitting right on their border?” Toria fixed him with an imitation of Max’s best imperious gaze, the one he used when she was up to her worst mischief.

Her head snapped to the side with the force of the stinging blow across her cheek. Too far, Toria. Time to shut up again.

“Be careful,” Octavian said. “You wouldn’t want me to take out my anger on your friends. Leave Kane with a few of my more degenerate officers. Forget to bring Asaron in come dawn.”

He brought his lips close to her own, and for a panicky breath, Toria thought he would kiss her. Molesting her through her clothes she could deal with, but a kiss might break the wall holding tears at bay.

But he stopped before contact. “Are you capable of delivering such a message? Or do I need to beat more sense into you?”

Clenching her teeth, Toria nodded. Maybe now he would let her go, leave her alone.

“Good,” Octavian said, a look of satisfaction on his sharp features. “Perhaps I won’t give Asaron the opportunity for that suntan after all.”

He sat back, pulling Toria’s wrists up with him. The relief that came with the sudden ability to take a real breath of air cost her the precious second she had to act. Octavian’s free arm pulled back, and Toria had time for one thought before his fist connected with her head.