The Brightest Shadow, page 59
Though the flashy green cloak had grown on her, she preferred Graenin without it. Where had it gotten to? Right, torn off just outside the tent. Veron lay back, considering whether or not to put on any clothes. What were the chances their contact would actually show up today?
"Morning." Graenin's eyes opened and he watched her with a cautious expression. Veron sat up again and gave him a lazy grin.
"Hell of a lot better than just waiting around, yeah?"
"Admittedly, yes. But I take my reputation seriously. If you go telling wild stories about this..."
"Who would I tell? The kids? Destrela?" Veron snorted. "You can tell anybody you want. Brag about my heaven-defying sexual skills."
"Please." Graenin rolled his eyes. "You think I would trade such stories with Hanfel? And if I tried with Narenel he'd either blush and stammer too much to speak, or he'd start lecturing me."
Veron chuckled and bent down to kiss him, hard. He kissed back, but then pushed her away.
"We should get up."
"Why? You think today is actually going to be the day?"
"It's the principle of the thing. We need to be prepared."
It was Veron's turn to roll her eyes, but she turned away. Didn't get started, though, just admired his body while he sat up. "You know, I expected you to be a lot scrawnier."
"Sein has to flow through the body, even if you don't use it for physical strength. Focusing on power alone is a dead end in development, leaving you little better than mudmen." Graenin closed his eyes and began his usual morning meditation, sein flowing strongly within him. That wasn't as interesting, so Veron looked away and considered her day.
It'd be the same mess, of course, watching from their hill until someone came through the pass. Veron much preferred the Chorhan Expanse proper, where you could see in all directions and run out to intercept someone. Hiding away in the northern hills just made things tiresome. But since Destrela said their contact would bring the supplies here, they had to wait.
For a long fucking time, apparently.
The idea of another day waiting around pissed Veron off enough that she considered trying to convince Graenin out of his meditation. He wasn't as boringly duty-bound as some of the others, she just had to coax it out of hi-
"Graenin! Veron! They're here!"
"Shit." Veron grabbed for her shirt and tugged it on.
Today of all days? Last night would have been worse, but still, the fuckers had awful timing. She chucked Graenin's robe toward him as she wriggled into her pants and then grabbed her sword on the way out. Wouldn't be comfortable, but she wasn't facing this mysterious contact half-naked. Especially since they wouldn't both have come if this was really an easy job.
Outside, she found that most of their group had clustered near the edge of the ridge overlooking the path. Only a few stayed close to the tent, waiting for her and Graenin tensely. Looked like there wouldn't be any jokes about the two of them. That killed all of her clever responses, but it seemed they had bigger issues on their hands.
Most of the nearby men she didn't care about, but she recognized two. Shorty was a mediocre fighter but at least good for a laugh, while Lardass was a lot faster than she'd expected given his weight. They'd given her their names at some point and she'd intentionally forgotten them. There were too many fighters in the resistance to bother. Some not bad ones, but without the raw potential of the kids.
"We didn't say anything because at first we thought it wasn't them," Shorty said. "The number of wagons is wrong. But when they got closer we saw the merchant's flag, so it must be."
"Well, let's go meet them, then."
Lardass shook his head. "Something's not right. Did Destrela really say we were going to meet an ally?"
"That's what she said, but no bets on whether it was true." Early as it was, Veron decided she needed a drink. She hadn't taken any of hers with her, so she grabbed the flask off Shorty's waist and took a swig. "They're almost here, I assume? Let's go take a look."
By the time she reached the main group, she discovered that she'd been right to hurry. Not only were the wagons almost to their little pass, they drove their aurochs quickly as if something was chasing them. Veron couldn't spot anything and sent a few fighters to scout behind, but she was getting a bad feeling that this wasn't what it looked like.
She jerked her chin to Lardass and a few others. "Get down there and stop them." He nodded and moved into the pass, while she looked backward.
Veron seriously considered dragging Graenin out of the tent if he didn't come, but just then he walked up beside her. More rumpled than usual, but he had his cloak on. He was barely in time to come to a halt beside her as the driver tried to whip his aurochs to push through. Lardass had a few spears set up in the way, so the beast balked. All the men in the wagons looked nervous, staring at the ring of fighters surrounding them.
"Alright, let's go down." Veron walked down the side of the hill and spoke to Graenin from the side of her mouth. "We're definitely just robbing them, aren't we?"
"Yes, it seems so."
"Do you think Destrela had a contact, or did she just lie to us for the hell of it?"
"This wouldn't be the first 'contact' who didn't know their own identity." Graenin raised an eyebrow at her. "You have a problem with it, bandit?"
"Not at all. I'm certain that we can convince them to contribute to the cause with a few pointed words and... pointed non-word things." She grinned toward the man holding the aurochs' reins. "Good morning! You've been blessed with a great many choices. If you want to be boring, you could hand over your supplies and no one will get hurt. But we have some much more exciting options for you..."
She'd thought up some clever threats, but Veron's words trailed off. The man was terrified, but he wasn't fully focused on her, or on the fighters around them. Same with the other men in the wagons. She noted that some of them had large bloodstains on their shirts. Old bloodstains. One of them turned back, glancing toward the last wagon, which was set up to carry passengers. Completely hidden passengers.
"Get back!" Veron yelled. Too late. The instant she started forward, the wagon covering exploded.
The attack came damn fast. Her intent had been to jump to defend one of the weaker fighters, but the intense speed instantly killed all thoughts of sticking her neck out for anyone. All of Veron's focus went into examining exactly what was happening in order to defend herself.
Deathspawn rushed in all directions, but strange ones. Purplish, for a start, with greasy-looking dark hair. They were a lot smaller than humans, especially because they hunched over. Looked like they had spines of some sort on their arms, though it was hard to tell. About as many women as men, though all wore the same shapeless white uniforms.
And they were fast. In the time it took Veron to observe that much, they had already killed several of the fighters approaching them.
Most carried spears, which they could launch faster than an arrow. More deadly, too, piercing straight through trained warriors. There were more Deathspawn coming, wielding knives and clubs and a mix of other weapons. Every blow she saw them land killed instantly. Several of the resistance fighters managed to hit back and the small Deathspawn went down easily, but in a flash they'd annihilated half her forces.
One of the Deathspawn still standing on the wagon released an ear-piercing shriek and lunged at her.
It was over the next moment, before she even had time to breathe.
The Deathspawn had spitted itself on her sword through its own momentum. Its spear had grazed her cheek, dodged by pure instinct. Veron stared at the body, wondering if she had just killed a child... no, this one was small, but she had proportions that spoke of maturity. What the hell were they?
But there was no time for that, she needed to act fast. Of the fighters nearest the wagons, only Lardass had survived the rush, but he had a slash across his forearm. One of the surviving Deathspawn lunged to finish him off, only to have his arms cut off by Shorty as he leapt from the side.
To Veron's surprise, the Deathspawn hurled himself straight at Shorty even without both of his arms, trying to bite at his neck. Lardass recovered and slammed an elbow into him, knocking him away. But even as the two of them stabbed into the body, he kept snarling and struggling against them.
If it had been only the fighters, they all would have died, but at that moment Graenin acted. Bolts of green sein impacted the small Deathspawn, stopping their momentum with lethal force. Veron joined in, cutting through one of them trying to stab a fallen fighter to death.
Nope, he'd done more than try. The man was pretty well stabbed to death. Veron looked away from the dying man to the rest of the battle, just in time to see one more Deathspawn rise from the wagon.
She looked the same as the others, except for the fact that she wielded a heavy saber in each hand. Small as she was, the weight of the weapons didn't seem to bother her. The Deathspawn woman bent her back and let out a scream that hit Veron like a shockwave, the raw sein of it knocking her back.
And then she was simply gone.
Veron didn't catch up to her until she was across the battlefield, both sabers slicing at Graenin. He had one hand raised, green light glowing prepared to defend himself. She saw his eyes widen in the split second he had to think and then he threw himself back instead.
The first blow shattered straight through the sein defense he had prepared and despite his jump, the second slash caught him in the stomach. Graenin crashed back to the ground, blood covering his robes. Veron realized that she was already in the air, leaping to assist.
Even while she was in the air, she saw the Deathspawn turn to intercept her. Veron threw a knife with her off hand and the Deathspawn knocked it aside contemptuously with one blade, bringing the other up to hit her as soon as she landed.
Abandoning her attack, Veron threw everything she had into defense, bracing her blade with her off-hand and intercepting the swing. It still hit her like a wall, knocking her backward and sending her crashing to the ground.
Veron desperately tried to raise her sword from that position, yet in a flashing moment the Deathspawn woman was over her, one saber having already knocked her weapon aside, the other slashing down. For a frozen moment they were eye to eye and Veron realized that those were different too. Other Deathspawn had dark irises, but this one had only rings of shaded red, in an eye bloodshot with thick blood vessels. There was only savagery and the intent to kill in those eyes...
Then a hole appeared in her chest with a burst of green. Veron's gaze flickered away and saw Graenin struggling to sit up with one hand raised.
Yet the Deathspawn wasn't dead, despite the hole in her chest. She opened her mouth as if to scream again...
Veron slashed through her neck. The head and body tumbled to the ground, her hands still gripping the sabers. Even though Veron could distantly feel that combat continued near the wagons, all she could do was lie there, trying to catch her breath.
She was bleeding from her cheek, her shoulder, and her side. The latter two injuries she didn't even remember receiving. Whatever these Deathspawn were, they attacked with explosive speed and power. It would only have taken the tiniest fraction of a moment's difference and she or Graenin might be dead. Worst of all was how these things went from unmoving to blinding speed in an instant. She had grown used to seeing the body tense and feeling sein shift before even a fast attack was launched. Yet there had been no delay at all, no hint anything was coming.
Shaking off those thoughts with a growl, Veron vaulted to her feet. She was letting the kids rub off on her, always analyzing combat instead of just acting. If she let that keep happening, she'd lose her edge. Veron turned to find out how many were left.
Only two Deathspawn still stood, but their side only had four. Lardass had lost his weapon but still lived, while she found Shorty's body lying headless over one of the wagons. Damn, that had been quick. Veron started to move when she heard Graenin choke something.
"Leave... one..." She glanced back and saw him holding his injury with one hand while aiming his other toward the group. Veron nodded understanding and leapt to finish things.
Fortunately, the remaining Deathspawn were nothing like their leader. Veron easily cut one down from behind and kicked the other in the chest when he turned. They could move fast, but that didn't meant they could always react in time.
Her kick knocked away his weapons, yet he still leapt up with a snarl to attack with bare claws. Yet just as Veron was starting to wonder how she'd restrain him, he froze in mid-lunge. She glanced up and saw Graenin with his fist closed tightly. Though he held his eyes shut in pain, he also seemed to be successfully binding the Deathspawn in place.
"Alright, what the fuck are you?" Veron kept her sword ready, but dared to walk closer to the Deathspawn.
He didn't answer, snarling meaningless noises at her. Not Futhik - Veron didn't really know the language, but she knew enough to tell that this was nonsense. The Deathspawn strained desperately in place, skin growing a darker purple almost as if he was choking.
"Listen, you have no idea how much pain we can cause you..." But even as she spoke, Veron realized that her threat was useless. The Deathspawn's eyes were entirely bloodshot, several vessels having burst. Foam escaped from between his lips and then his sein simply spluttered out.
Poison? No, it didn't strike her that way. More like he had used up everything he had, even the sein that his body needed to live.
The corpse stayed frozen in the air for a while longer, then Graenin dropped it. Veron wanted to sit down and just breathe for a while, then drink herself into a stupor. But those weren't options, so instead she turned and pointed at the survivors.
"Check the bodies. If any of ours are alive, get them into a wagon. Any of the Deathspawn are alive, stab them. Any of them look dead, stab them anyway."
Lardass nodded and took charge, well enough that she almost regretted not remembering his name. He glanced back toward her as he passed the spooked aurochs in front of the wagon - they might be wearing blinders, but they could smell the blood. "What do we do about the supplies?"
"Do they look real?"
"They... seem to be."
"Then take them. No sense in everyone dying for nothing."
While they dealt with that, Veron walked to where Graenin lay. He was flat on his back now, breathing deeply. Though the bloodstain covered a surprisingly large amount of the front of his robe, she didn't see any new blood flowing. Then he had things under control and should be fine if he received treatment. Despite herself, Veron was relieved.
"You're lucky I still want to fuck you, or I might not have saved you back there."
Graenin shot her a bitter glance and she realized that his pride had been injured by the fight. Normally she wouldn't put up with that, but given what had just happened...
"Those little fuckers are damn fast, aren't they? I haven't completely lost track of someone like that since... well, since the Zeitai in Bundlin, I guess. Even one of the weaker ones almost got me."
"They must be some new breed." Graenin still looked deeply unhappy, but at least he wasn't sulking. "I wanted to capture one and learn exactly what they were doing here."
"Obviously a trap for us. But I don't know how much we can learn, because it looks like they killed all the men who were with them." Veron finally felt secure enough to wipe off her sword and resheath it. "I doubt they knew too much about our exact ambush, or they would have taken us from behind. We'd have been fucked if they did that. So they must have just suspected that the caravan would be attacked and prepared a mobile trap."
"We target enough of them." Graenin gave a low grunt and shook his head. "Go on, see if there are any spies watching from a distance. I'll have to leave that to you."
Veron nodded and drew on her remaining reserves to sprint in a large circle around their location. As she'd expected, there were a few Deathspawn watching from hiding. Intending to follow them back to the caverns and report on the location, no doubt. They tried to run when they saw her, but none of them had a chance and Veron was not in a playful mood.
When it was finally over, she walked back to the others. It seemed like they were done, having left the Deathspawn bodies in the dirt and lifted their fallen comrades into one of the wagons. Veron looked over the contents and shook her head - they'd lost so many fighters just for some basic supplies? At least they could learn a little more, so Veron headed out to retrieve two of the Deathspawn corpses.
Only when she relaxed the flow of her sein did all her aches and pains emerge. There was some pain from her injuries, but what really bothered her were the smaller things. Her chest hurt like hell and her shirt had chafed a lot - Veron bitterly wished that she'd had time to pull on more than a shirt. Pants were pinching, too, leaving her even grouchier.
Instead of helping, Veron limped back to the tent, cursing under her breath. It didn't help much.
~ ~ ~
Their entire trip back was a miserable slog. The survivors were sad and bitter over the loss of their allies. Veron didn't give much of a shit about them except for Shorty, but it meant no more drinking and swapping stories at night. And she definitely wasn't getting laid, partially because Graenin was nursing his injury and partially because he seemed obsessed with analyzing the battle and preparing for another.
On that, at least, she couldn't blame him. Didn't seem fair that the Deathspawn could have fighters like that. She'd grown used to being secure in combat unless an opponent was exceptionally strong, but the amount of luck it had required for her to survive the battle was uncomfortably large.
Since she was the only one fit to run, she had to keep them clear of any Deathspawn observers while they slipped away. Early on she found a couple searching for them. One she'd frantically hacked to pieces before she realized that he was just a bit short. But eventually they escaped detection and headed back to the base. Veron floated along with them, almost as unfocused as when that first damn Hero had walked into her life...
