WARP world (62 page)

Seg shrugged. “Even with the auto-med, a hike of this distance on a broken leg is nearly impossible. If he can’t last until we link up with Brin, I’ll leave him with his weapon. He’s a raider; they know the risks when they take the work.”

He crouched down to refill his canteen then fed in a cleansing tab to purify the water. He passed his canteen to Fismar and took the man’s own canteen to fill.

“How far?” he asked her as he took a measured draught.

“We’re over half way there, and the trail will be easier now. But more exposed, too.” She turned and spoke for the benefit of the others, as she knew Seg was already familiar with some of the dangers of her world. “Keep close to the trees and try not to step on anything that looks like a pile of dirt–those are haffsa mounds. They’re full of bugs that can kill you and they’re really territorial.”

She crouched down, scooped the water in her hands and took a long drink, then splashed some over the leather covering her dathe to help cool herself.

“Okay, let’s keep moving,” she leapt across the stream and waited.

Shan muttered something under her breath as they resumed.

“Problem?” Seg asked.

“Just that I’m mudslogging across a misbegotten heap of a world with a—” she made a distasteful moue, eyes toward Ama, as she hopped the stream. “Filthy water everywhere and trees and insects and poisonous dirtpiles. Other than that, I’m condition grade alpha, sir!” she snapped off a jaunty salute.

“That is good to know,” Seg said. “Distract yourself by keeping an eye on the sensors so the tens of thousands of hostile Outers who would happily torture us for days on end don’t find us before we find them, if you please.”

Fismar slapped Shan on the shoulder as he limped past. “Welcome to the real military, skyrider.”

“Karg the both of you,” Shan said, as she resumed the march.

A swathe of tall grass stretched out ahead of them.

“Contact!” Shan hissed just as Ama spotted signs of movement ahead. Ama, Seg, and Fismar all went low at the same time. After a momentary gawk at the screen, Shan likewise crouched down.

“Twe—” she started to say, before Seg put up a hand and Fismar sliced a hand across his throat to indicate silence.

Twelve,
she signed and pointed to indicate the direction. Seg scuttled slowly into a thicket, and Fismar followed; both readied their weapons. Shan came in with a loud rustle and Fismar leaned over and whispered to her, “If you get the Outers on us, skyrider, I’ll cut your throat first.”

Seg held up a fist for silence and they waited in nervous anticipation as the figures came into view.

Ama watched carefully, crouched in the grass, as the first shape moved closer. He was large, very large.

And he was no Welf.

Tensions were high, Ama stood slowly and made a low whistle, similar to a birdcall but with a pattern any Kenda would recognize.

Brin stopped and held up his hand for his men to do the same. He squinted in her direction then smiled broadly.

Ama waved at the others to come out but saw that Seg had already recognized Brin and his men and was doing just that. As she walked to meet her cousin, Ama felt her heart settle a bit. They embraced but it was not the carefree reunion of times past.

“Ama, good to see you alive,” Brin said as he pulled away.

“Not as good as it is to see you, cousin,” she answered. Before she could speak again, there was another set of arms wrapped around her waist.

“Tadpole!”

“Thuy?” she turned to look at her brother’s face in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” she pulled him in tightly for a hug and cast a sideways glance to Brin.

“His head is as thick as yours,” Brin answered. “He refused to stay with the others, as I ordered him to.”

“The rest of my kin can be babysitters for women, children and old men. I don’t run from a fight,” Thuy answered.

“You see?” Brin rapped his knuckles against Thuy’s head, “thick.” He placed a hand on Ama’s shoulder, “Excuse me cousin, I have a brother of my own to confer with.”

Seg watched Brin break away from Ama and make his way over to where he stood. The Kenda’s eyes darted to Fismar and Shan, then he offered Seg a curt, formal nod, “Eraranat.” Tactful. Brin’s ability to so astutely read the political climate impressed him.

“We are still a few kilometers from the rendezvous point,” Seg said.

“My men move swiftly. I knew this would be your path.”

Seg nodded, introduced the raiders, procured assistance for Fismar, and suggested they keep moving.

Brin moved to the head of the procession, with Seg at his side.

“It is good to see you again, brother, even under…extraordinary circumstances,” Brin said, in low voice, when they were far enough from the others.

“Likewise,” Seg answered.

“I have to admit I am surprised you and Ama were able to slip through the nets of the authorities.”

“With your assistance,” Seg acknowledged. “Neverthess, it is not a feat I would care to repeat.”

“The Damiar estate at Sansin, I assume that bit of arson was your handiwork?” Brin asked, with a smile.

“Ama’s actually,” Seg corrected, his face stern. “In her defense, however, we had been caught in a thunderstorm and we were both quite chilled.”

Brin was silent for a moment, then he broke into muted laughter. Seg lowered his eyes to the grass as his mouth twitched into a smile. The sense of familiarity he had felt in Brin’s presence when they first met fell naturally into place, which surprised him.

“You and your party are lucky to be in your skins.” Brin’s face sobered. “Your people have stirred up the Welf something fierce. They’re everywhere…and they are not pleased.”

“Offending the natives is a rather large part of my job.” He moved closer to Brin, “Has there been news of Ama’s father?”

Brin nodded.

“Bad trouble,” Seg said, in the Kenda tongue.

“Bad trouble, yes,” Brin said, staring away from Seg. “The Shasir have declared Spiritual War against the Kenda. We’ve received word that all Kenda prisoners are to be executed beginning at high sun, tomorrow.” He wiped a hand across his mouth, a thin bandage covering the stump of his missing finger. “Dagga will personally oversee Odrell’s death. We’ve been praying to Nen for a miracle; looks like he heard us.”

Seg let the superstitious reference pass, there were greater concerns. He looked over his shoulder, to where Ama walked.

“I’ve told the others to keep silent about the news for now, even Thuy,” Brin assured him. “She doesn’t need the worry and you’ve yet to fall short of your promises. We’ll save him.”

Seg nodded and looked back to Brin, “Twelve men, including yourself; what sort of weaponry did you bring?”

“All the men have sefts, a few klips, and we even rounded up some bangers. It’s not much but the best we could manage in such a hurry.” He frowned, “What is your thinking?”

“I’m thinking that my People’s weapons were designed for simplicity and ease of use, and that a dozen more guns on the line could make all the difference,” Seg said. “I’ll speak with Fismar but tell me, are your men willing to follow me?”

“I have told them you are one of us–though they know not to speak of it to your people. Consider them yours. To the temple then?”

He studied Brin for a long moment. “To the temple.”

As Ama and Thuy made their way up the line of Kenda, toward Brin, a familiar face surprised her. Captain Tather tipped his hat.

“Tather? So they let anyone come and fight now, do they? I had no idea my cousin was so desperate,” she teased her old dock mate.

“Yes, desperate indeed if he’s recruiting girls to his army.”

“Oh, I owe you a half coin, by the way.”

Tather cocked an eyebrow.

Ama pointed toward Seg, “You were right, the big fellow was his bodyguard.”

“Thought so,” he said, with a knowing nod. “I also heard your boat was burned.” He pushed his chin in Seg’s direction. “Anything else you’d care to share?”

She smirked at the memory of her promise to burn her boat if she fell for her Damiar passenger, then walked on. Her eyes stopped on Viren, who was busy leering at Shan.

“What are you gawking at, Outer?” Shan spat the question at him.

“My dreams made flesh,” Viren answered with a flourish.

“That man is going to get himself shot again,” Ama told Thuy, and shook her head as she passed by.

“She’d be worth it, though,” Thuy said.

“You’re in enough trouble.” Ama cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Look who’s talking.” Thuy tugged her hair sharply.

“Ow!” she punched him in the shoulder. It felt like old times but she knew better–knowledge that pushed the smile from her lips. “Thuy, you shouldn’t be here. I made Brin promise to keep you and the others safe.” She lowered her head, “I’ve lost enough family.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

“And you do?” he asked.

A long stretch of silence followed.

“I’m sorry,” Ama said, eyes on the ground, “about Stevan, about Fa.”

“Don’t be,” Thuy said, the muscles of his mouth tensed. “You were right, we should have stood up to the spooks. A long time ago. We should have fought.”

“Fighters don’t win wars, thinkers do.” Ama’s tone was laced with surprise, as her eyes moved up to where Seg walked with Brin.

“Well,” Thuy shrugged, “no matter what, after today, I’m not hiding and keeping my mouth shut anymore. Any cloud sniffers I meet will be sniffing the end of my seft.”

Ama looked back to Thuy, to the faint scar across his jaw, which she had given him while they had played with their father’s seft, as children. Warriors, that’s what they had once pretended to be.

W
ith the assistance of the Kenda, the journey to the temple was made in less time than Seg expected. They were as well versed in woodcraft as the Welf, and knew the shortcuts and pathways just as competently.

The rolling hills leading up to the temple were dangerously open, with hordes of Welf scattered everywhere. Brin guided the group along a winding path that was rocky and slow going but kept them sufficiently covered.

Shrouded in dust, the sight of the Alisir temple was more of a shock than T’ueve had been. Seg could see the walls surrounding the complex were partially intact, though sections had collapsed. One of the two tall chapels that had stood at opposite corners, was gone–only a column of black smoke marked its place.

Between a cluster of rock and a pile of rubble outside the temple proper, Brin motioned to everyone to stop.

Seg surveyed the ruins of the temple. There was an unholy din arising from inside the fortress–weapons fire, explosions and piercing screams. He pulled up the holographic map once more, where the temple was still shown as intact.

He showed the map to Fismar and pointed at the blinking icon that represented their current location. The trooper nodded his understanding as Seg passed him the comm helmet to link up with the troops inside.

“Trooper Fismar Korth to defenders, have troops to assist. Southeast four-five on the temple, need cover coming in,” he said into the comm.

Seg watched as Fismar listened to the response. The trooper’s tenacity continued to surprise him. With the state of his leg, he had never expected, or even hoped, that the man could make the journey to the temple. Not only had he made it, he seemed as alert and ready as any of the others–a state not even heavy doses of stims could achieve. Had he not seen the very human blood leaking from Fismar’s wound, he would have suspected cybernetics.

“Twelve points yeah, seventeen in all. Theorist hoping you saved him some Outers for his heavy.” He chuckled, then after a moment he passed the comm helmet back to Seg, all business once more.

“Here’s what we have,” he drew a quick diagram in the dirt. A square, with a smaller square inside. “Our folks are pulled into a tight perimeter, back against that hill so nothing can come over and get them.” He noted the protective hill with a series of hash marks. “Line’s a half-crescent, set up to give themselves the best fields of fire.” He drew a half circle facing toward an open area. “See how they’ve got a sweep on that parade ground, or whatever it is?”

“Courtyard, yes?”

“Raiders are set up to shoot anyone who comes at ’em as far out as they can before the attackers can get close and go to sticks and clubs. Problem is, the Out—Welf,” he corrected, with a sudden glance to the Kenda men, “figured out not to run straight into the line of fire and changed course. There are a bunch of smashed-up buildings over to the west, where the locals can get close before the raiders can get weapons on them. That’s the weak point; that’s where the Welf are pushing hardest.”

“If that is the case, is there a safe way for us to enter?”

“Well, there’s no
safe
here, Theorist, but there’s less dangerous. That courtyard is our path. Welf are west; we circle around the perimeter before we bump into them. We come across the courtyard, where our people can cover us in. We’ll need to get your boys in the middle of our group so that the raiders don’t gun ‘em down coming in. Once we start going, we don’t stop. No time to pick up anyone who goes down.”