The Art of Legend, page 20
Hair Bear and the rest of the Goons were forming up and trying to get organized. What were those cracked eggs thinking? Did those idiots intend to fight? Apparently so. Even worse, Cyyk was with them. There certainly weren’t enough of them to make a dent against a massive Kati raid. Many of the inmates weren’t war artists or soldiers, just soft-shell prisoners: the embezzlers, adulterers, fraudsters, incompetent scholars, and political dissidents. But what else could they do? Defend the colony, or lay down and die. Those were the only options. No, there had to be another way. Did the Kati even leave prisoners?
Qisami chose the only sensible thing to do and saved her own hide, not that it mattered. They would all be dead by dawn, anyway. She made it ten steps from the fighting when she stopped and couldn’t force herself to take another step. Only one thing could keep her from abandoning these saps to their fate. One stupid thing. One stupid person, and Qisami hated herself for it.
Everyone else in her life had abandoned her. Everyone, except one. She turned and sprinted across the open field, dodging arrows and horsemen alike, and dove to the ground when an ax nearly cleaved her head off. She rolled to her feet and feinted as the horse reared, its front hooves coming frighteningly close to her face. She dove forward beneath it, into its shadow, popping out beside a collapsed building. She continued sprinting, zigzagging around charging horses and rolling death machines, tripping over bodies and arrows sticking out of the ground.
Qisami miraculously made it to Cyyk, who had managed to find a pike and had joined alongside four other Goons to form the world’s saddest phalanx. She grabbed him by the ear like an errant child and hauled him off the line.
“Hey!” he argued. “What did you do that for?”
“I’m saving your life, turdball,” she hissed, swatting an arrow away as she dragged him toward safety.
“We can’t let them win!” he yelled.
“Win what? What are we winning?” she retorted. “This is a penal colony. There’s nothing to win here!”
“Where would we escape to, though?”
The grunt had a point. The Kati attacking the prison didn’t make it any less true that the Happy Glow Retirement Home was still stuck in the ass end of a desolate corner of the world. They would die if they left the colony. She pulled Cyyk behind an outcrop of rock. No, that wasn’t true. What changed was that they would die if they stayed, so they might as well give themselves a chance.
She watched from their spot as a Kati raider ran down a group of inmates, sending several flying into the nearby snowbank. They were clustered tightly enough, however, that the impact had knocked him off-balance as well, stopping the mount in its tracks.
She stared at the large chestnut. “That’s a lot of horse. I bet it can take us pretty far.”
“We have no supplies. What happens after it keels over?”
“Then we eat it.” Qisami didn’t give him a chance to protest. “You take his front. I’ll move up the flank.”
“Why me?”
“You like attention.”
The two attacked together. It had been a while since they danced as partners. She was rusty, her grunt even more so. It was like two virgins giving it their first go, but damn it felt good to flow like a real cell again.
The raider was dicing the rubes in Barrack Nine like raw Happan fish, chopping vertically in tall arcs. He noticed Cyyk stalking forward, making a laughable attempt to stay unseen. Part of it was by design; part of it was the broodbaby generally sucked at prowling and subtlety.
Qisami bided her time until the raider had turned away from her. She was close enough now that the horse’s tail slapped her face. She leaped onto its back just when the Kati kicked and reared it to charge. Qisami ripped off the rider’s wooden helm and twisted his neck around. The two struggled as the steed lunged in a violent circle. Unfortunately, her opponent was strong, and she didn’t have enough leverage to torque him down. Cyyk, after avoiding the rearing horse, finally managed to jump in to help, and the two were able to toss the Kati off. He pitched headfirst to the ground and was converged upon by the survivors of Barrack Nine.
“Come on, broodbaby.” Qisami offered an arm and hauled him up behind her. Several other inmates had come to the same conclusion and tried to climb on and hitch a ride as well. “Let’s go, horsey!”
She saw an unobstructed route leading out of the colony toward freedom, and possibly death. Probably death, but at this point it didn’t matter. She was willing to risk Cyyk’s life to take that chance. Qisami grabbed a fistful of the horse’s mane and kicked its ribs. She buried her head into it as the horse broke into a wild spring, veering side to side to avoid bodies and projectiles getting thrown into the path before them. Steam shot from the horse’s nostrils as it broke into a hard sprint, nearly bucking them along the way. She wasn’t looking for trouble or a fight. All they had to do was break free and get clear.
For a moment, it looked as if they were going to make it. Qisami’s hope surged as they reached the main gatehouse at the edge of the colony. Before them stretched the vast, open white fields of the Grass Tundra, where likely a cold, painful demise awaited, but at least they had a chance. She was going to die on her own terms. Qisami was almost exuberant.
Then the gatehouse exploded, literally, in a giant shower of splinters and snow. She would have been blown off the mount if she hadn’t been clinging to it so tightly. Cyyk certainly wasn’t, and was gone the next moment. What was left of the building collapsed into itself, and what stood in its place was the single most terrifying thing Qisami had ever seen.
It looked like a giant platform with structures and siege weapons moving along massive, wheeled tracks. This thing was taller than buildings and larger than ocean frigates, three ocean frigates! The metal monstrosity rumbled and screamed with shrill whistles while sending puffs of smoke and steam shooting into the sky. It was larger and more terrifying than the Caobiu ducal war wagons. How could such a thing exist? Was this one of those famed Kati city pods? This machine had smashed and flattened the gatehouse, crushing it beneath tracked wheels that were as tall as a two-story house. Emblazoned on the hull of this monster was a symbol: a curved dome sitting over a flat line, with two more lines along the sides angling up and outward.
The poor, distressed horse reared, whinnying in panic, tossing her. Qisami felt every rock and bump on the road with her bone-shattering thud as she tumbled and rolled on the hard ice until she came to a stop on her backside. Those dozen or so layers of burlap sacks created a decent cushion. She could only sit there and gape, her arms and legs sprawled as the city pod loomed closer, shaking the ground and threatening to crush her beneath its metal tracks.
She came to her senses an instant later. Getting crushed by a giant metal monster was a lousy way to die, but she was more concerned about the horse. That was her escape. Qisami leaped to her feet and pulled on the horse’s reins, trying to coax it back to its feet. But the steed was too large and heavy, and possibly hurt, for it to budge. The city pod swiveled around and rolled closer. She gave the poor steed one more hard yank, and failed, causing her to slip and fall onto her back once more. She stared in horror as the shadow of the city pod blanketed her into darkness.
Then it stopped, even as the tracks continued to churn. Qisami blinked. What happened? Why didn’t it crush her bones to paste? A shrill whistle of steam blew from somewhere in its underbelly. She looked to the side. One of the rear tracks had gotten caught in the demolished remains of the gatehouse.
Qisami’s heart went double time as a tidal wave of relief washed over her. Her only response was nervous laughter as she scrambled to her feet. She glared at the stupid horse one more time. If it wanted to lie there and die, then fine.
She scanned the area for Cyyk and found him off to the side, picking himself up. At least he was still alive. She staggered toward him, still discombobulated. They could get out somehow. They’d just have to find another way.
She called, “Get up, broodbaby. We have to—”
A long, rectangular ramp slid out from the platform above and slammed onto the ground nearby. Four Kati warriors wielding short spears and tall rectangular shields filed down the ramp followed by a woman wearing baggy pants and what appeared to be an apron. The Kati in charge leading the small group pointed at Qisami. “Towerspears, kill those two and secure the perimeter, while Anja clears the debris.”
“Yes, squadlead!” they barked.
One Kati came at Qisami, while the other two went at Cyyk. How typical. They probably thought she wasn’t a threat. The tip of the man’s spear struck ice, then gravel, and then a patch of mud. Qisami avoided the blows, rolling and shifting, and spread her legs on the third. Then she closed them, scissoring the spear out of his grasp and sending it spinning to the side. She skipped to her feet and threw a punch at the Kati, but succeeded only in banging on the top edge of his shield. She howled, shaking her hand as she backed up. She nearly broke her pinky. The towerspear hid behind his shield and rammed forward, slamming into her body and sending her flying.
By now though, Qisami was finally warmed up. The two were fighting under the city pod, which meant there was plenty of darkness; all she needed was variance in the shade. She found it as she was crashing to the ground and slipped into a shadowstep, feeling the bubbles prick her skin. She emerged behind him within the shadow of one of the metal tracks. She lunged, cracking him in the back of the helmet with an elbow. That hurt her elbow almost as much as it probably hurt him. Qisami dropped low behind him, yanked the two daggers holstered to each side of his waist, and then stabbed inward into the outside of both of his hips. He dropped to his knees, and then a downward hammer with the butt of the dagger cracked his wooden helm and ended his day.
Qisami checked in on Cyyk and noticed he was getting his ass handed to him. Two men with the big shields had boxed the broodbaby against a boulder. Qisami flipped one of the daggers and caught it by the tip. She squinted, stuck out her tongue, and then hurled the unwieldy blade. The large dagger hit its mark, but with the wrong end. It didn’t matter since that silly Kati decided to wear a feathered cap instead of a helmet. He crumpled to the ground.
She turned in time to see the guy in charge bearing down on her. The squadlead, older and stronger than his report, was slower, which made him easy prey for a shadowkill. Speed kills, but surprise murders, as went the shadowkill saying.
The man knew how to use his shield more effectively, however, keeping her in front and at bay. Qisami hissed like a cat as she pounced left and right. This Kati was disciplined, unlike the other, or more likely, she had already wasted her element of surprise. In any case, he was still no match for her. It just took her longer than she needed to deal with a lowly warrior. She blamed it on being rusty.
Qisami had rammed his shield and noticed how he braced for it. He planted his right foot to the outside, and squatted. It happened two more times as she probed for a way to slip past that ridiculous wall of a shield. On the fourth attempt though, she put more oomph into her shoulder check. As soon as the squadlead planted his feet, she stabbed with the dagger, splintering his wooden slippers and his leg. To the man’s credit, he barely registered a grunt. He dropped his guard enough for her to reverse the grip of her dagger and swing it toward the side of his head.
It should have killed him if it hadn’t been for someone interrupting her. Qisami caught the movement of someone dropping from above. She kicked the squadlead away and retreated as still another Kati landed between them. This one was different from the others. Her movements were more relaxed and refined. Her armor was wooden scale mail, not banded or one-piece. There was also something familiar about her flow. A nine-link metal chain whip was looped in her hand. This one was a trained war artist.
“Get the perimeter secured, squadlead,” she barked. “We’re sitting ducks. I’ll take care of this one.”
“Yes, viperstrike.”
Viperstrike?
That was something Qisami wasn’t expecting. She studied this war artist. The woman was younger than that fierce, sexy beast Salminde, whom Qisami had encountered years back. She wondered if they were related. Doubtful. The two looked nothing alike. In fact, they didn’t even look like they belonged in the same race. This one looked Happan. There could be hundreds of viperstrikes in the Kati world for all she knew. Still, she couldn’t help but ask.
“Viperstrike, eh? Do you know Salminde? We’re, like, best friends.”
The Kati startled at the name. Maybe there weren’t that many viperstrikes. With a snarl, she snapped her chain whip at Qisami, flailing left and right at the ground and air between them. Every once in a while, the chain whip would curl around the Kati’s elbow, wrist, and even neck, changing its trajectory as it flayed at her. Qisami’s dagger was useless against these things. She could only dodge. It was a good thing this girl was just okay, certainly not as skilled as that sweet hot bun Salminde.
Qisami couldn’t help but feel let down by this viperstrike’s modest performance. Maybe the Kati gave that title to anyone who could rub their belly and pat their head at the same time. Qisami studied the cadence of the whip swings, and then at the right moment, just as the viperstrike was finishing a swing, she shot forward.
Something weird happened to the chain whip. No sooner had Qisami lunged within range, the nine-linked metal chains stiffed into two batons, which the Kati war artist reversed and used to nearly impale her. Qisami twisted aside and ran her blade along the shaft of the now-sticks. She looped an arm around the other woman’s elbow and torqued it in a joint lock. The viperstrike tried to twist away, but Qisami was having none of that. She yanked the girl off her feet and swept her to the ground, still holding her. The two continued to struggle. If the viperstrike won, she would slip free. If Qisami won, she would break the other war artist’s arm. Qisami liked her chances. Slowly she cranked, feeling the other war artist weakening by the moment. She looked bewildered as well, as if shocked she was losing a fight to a peasant in rags.
Qisami’s lips curled. “You’re not that good, sweetie.”
She looked up to check on Cyyk and wished she hadn’t. He had gotten himself into another mess. He had been fighting only one guy and still he couldn’t win. She scowled as the Kati got behind Cyyk and had him wrapped in a choke hold along the shaft of the spear. The broodbaby’s face was bulging and purple. He was frantic, pawing at nothing. Oh well, that was the price for losing. Maybe she was not as good a teacher as she gave herself credit for.
Qisami checked on the viperstrike. She should just kill her and be done with it. “Oh, pig feet.” She scowled. “Hey you, girl.”
It took the viperstrike a moment to realize Qisami was addressing her. “Are you talking to me?”
“Do you want to call a truce?”
The viperstrike sneered. “Like, you let me live and we pull back from our attack? I’d rather die.”
Qisami wasn’t thinking that big. “No, I mean, I give up and you don’t hurt me or my friend anymore. But I wouldn’t object if you spared the entire colony. I’m assuming you’re here to loot.”
The young woman stared, suspicious. “Are you surrendering?”
Qisami bobbed her head. “Sure. The people here look up to me. If I surrender, they will too. Promise! So what do you say? Come on, you owe me. I could have killed you just now. You could say I saved your life.”
“What, no! This fight is still up in the air. The result was inconclusive.”
“Please. You were done and we both know it.” Qisami smirked. “So, how do you know Salminde?”
“Quiet, land-chained. I accept your terms.”
Qisami relaxed the arm lock and held her hands up. The other Kati spared Cyyk’s life, and slowly the Happy Glow Retirement Home survivors either stopped fighting or stopped running. It wouldn’t have gone on much longer, anyway. By the time Qisami, hands up, returned to the main square with the viperstrike following behind, most of the inmates had already been rounded up and were sitting in the center of the open area, guarded by horsemen flanking three sides. Qisami joined the huddled masses and sat down next to Cyyk. Everyone around her looked in shock.
Several of the raiders approached the viperstrike, speaking in muted tones. That youthful girl actually was in charge. Strange for one so young.
The woman stepped forward after conversing with her people for several moments. “People of this Zhuun settlement. The children of Nezra claim our earned plunder on the rights of the raidlife. Show us where you store your food, supplies, and clothing, and we will let you live. Hinder us and you will all die.”
“If you leave us with no food or clothing,” someone shouted, “we’ll all die anyway.”
The Kati looked unmoved. “Then starve, land-chained, or freeze. It makes no difference to me.”
Several of the Goons—Hair Bear leading the way—stood and took several steps forward. A dozen of the Kati stepped forward, their shields locked and their spears pointed at the Goons. They advanced. It was going to be a massacre.
“Hey,” Qisami shouted at the viperstrike. “Hey, hey, hey, you, girl. I mean, viperstrike.”
The young woman noticed Qisami and raised a hand. The wall of shields and spears stopped advancing.
Qisami stopped waving only after she was sure she had the viperstrike’s attention. “Hey, hi, let’s make another deal, yeah? I saved your life with the first deal. This one’s going to be even better.”
“It was inconclusive!” the young woman snapped back.
“You have no idea when you’ve lost. Don’t worry, that comes with experience.”
“Are you trying to negotiate for a quicker death, land-chained?”
“You’re far from the Grass Sea, Child of Nezra. You didn’t come here just to raid our crap prison food, did you? You’re here for the ore.”
