WARP world (68 page)

S
eg hobbled beside Brin, on an improvised crutch crafted from a boat paddle. Grass spread out before them, ending at a large boathouse that now functioned as an ersatz field hospital. Beyond that, a glimmer of water was visible and the skins of Kenda boats were silhouetted in the fading sun. The next warp window would open in twenty minutes; Seg had used the time since their landing to let the auto-med stabilize him, while Fismar and Shan had used the strong backs and deft hands of the Kenda to set up the large warp gate. The internal injuries he had sustained would need more extensive work but Seg would be home soon enough. All of his gear and weaponry had been removed and left on the gunship, except for the backup stunner he wore beneath his sleeve.

“T’ueve, Alisir, Malvid, the primary temples are all down,” Seg explained to Brin. “Only Malvid remains functional as a structure, since that was the only surrender, but you would be wise to move your men in there, hold it, and destroy the docking pads before the Shasir can send more skyships from their home territory.”

“I have men ready to raise skins and sail north on my signal, once your people have gone,” Brin said, nodding as he walked. “We will have four moons to establish ourselves before the ice winds arrive and make the northern passages too dangerous for travel.”

“Use them well,” Seg cautioned.

“What of the military strongholds we spoke of? Ol’cania, Myan’as, L’albor?”

“Flattened. We could ha—” Seg stopped in place, his eyes squeezed closed as he drew in a pained breath.

“You should sit,” Brin said.

“No,” Seg said, in a small voice. A few breaths later he resumed his walk, “No, walking, like this…” he gestured over his head with his free hand, “under an open sky, is something I may not do again for a long time.”

As they approached the boathouse, Seg could make out the huddle of Ama’s family. Despite the debilitating wound Odrell had suffered and his generally poor condition, they were in high spirits, the occasional peel of laughter ringing through the air. The two brothers sat on the grass, on one side of their father, who was propped up in a half-sitting position, Ama sat on the other. She held his hand and embraced him at random, but frequent, intervals. Overly emotive but Seg had to concede that it suited her.

He nodded toward Ama and her family and spoke quietly to Brin. “Her father will be fine. The wound is non-lethal. But we’ll leave you an extra auto-med. When the lights turn amber, replace it with the other. It will heal the old wounds, counteract infection, and keep the new wound from festering.”

“A welcome gift, thank you,” Brin said, his face softening as he looked at Seg. “You’re certain you won’t return?”

“The laws of my People forbid it,” Seg answered.

“Well,” Brin tilted his head to the northeast, and watched the lines of smoke rising from the temple with a wry grin, “perhaps that is for the best, brother. There’s not much left for you to burn here.”

Geras had tried to get Odrell to move inside the boathouse but he would have none of it. After weeks in the Secat, he wanted to see the sky. And his children.

“Such a ship!” Odrell wheezed, his eyes directed toward the gunship. “How did you manage that, Tadpole?”

“It was a gift. From Seg. A promise, actually.”

Geras made a noise in his throat at that but it was drowned by Odrell, “Well, some gratitude is in order.” He coughed, “Call him over, Ama.”

Ama stood and walked to where Seg and Brin stood a short distance away. “My father wants a word with you,” she told Seg. Her face stern.

He hobbled toward the family, stopping before Odrell. “Yes?” he asked. “We are in a bit of a hurry to get moving here.”

Odrell puffed up at the boy’s rudeness, though the action elicited another cough. “Ama tells me this is all your doing.” He gestured around him with a weak hand, to indicate the gunship as well as the distant smoke from the temple.

Seg turned on the crutch and surveyed the horizon as the smoke drifted into the sky and caught the wind to be carried toward the east, hazing over the setting sun. “Yes,” he said with a nod, “it was.”

Odrell’s face creased into a smile, “Good.”

Ama traded glances with Thuy, who smirked.

“Come down here so I don’t have to shout, I’m half killed you know,” Odrell wheezed, making a production of his frailty.

Seg hobbled closer. “Yes?” he asked, his eyes darting back toward the large automated warp gate that the Kenda were busy assembling under Shan and Fismar’s guidance. First the rider would go through, then all the personnel. Very soon.

“My nephew tells me you’re a Kenda now,” Odrell said, his voice dropping low. “A Kenda? Nen’s death!”

“Fa, language!” Ama said.

“You’re no Kenda.” Odrell reached his hand out, and grasped Seg’s, “You’re a Kalder. You’re family.”

Seg grasped the man’s hand in turn, thoughts of leaving banished from his mind. His eyes darted in several directions as he grappled for the words, before finally choking out a simple “Thank you.”

“The thanks are all mine. And you will always have a home here. Now, go on. You have important business, son. And I have stories to hear,” he winked and looked to Thuy and Geras.

“I won’t be back,” Seg said, his voice firm as he limped away on his crutch.

Brin was standing where Seg had left him, but now a group of men, the remnants of the chosen fifty with new faces mixed among them, were gathered in front of him as he shouted out to them.

“Our brother, Segkel Eraranat, was good on his word,” he began. “The Shasir are broken; this land is ours to claim. The revolution begins; our people will be free.”

A cry rose up in the crowd and he waited for the men to settle again.

“Now it is up to us to keep our word. You’ll not see this world again but you will serve this man under Kenda oath. Fail him and you fail me. Blood for water!”

“Blood for water!” the men called back.

“Who are they?” Seg asked of the newcomers.

Brin offered a lopsided smile, “Replacements.” He rubbed his chin, “If I had more time, I’d give you better but these men were prisoners at the Secat. I’ve spoken with them, they know the arrangement, they’ve given their oath to me, and so to you. They are all fighters, from the resistance, glad to make the sacrifice.”

Seg looked over them, then nodded abruptly. “Yes, I expect they are. There are a few more things we need to discuss before I leave.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted back to Ama, sitting with her family–safe, happy and free.

Thuy had finally finished his retelling of the battles at the temple and the prison, and as much as Ama knew her father was delighted to be reunited with his children, the strain of his injury showed on his face. She exchanged a look with Geras, and he directed Thuy away on the pretense of moving some of the stolen bangers to a new location.

“You need to rest,” Ama told her father.

“I’ve missed you, Tadpole.” He raised a hand to her exposed dathe, “This is a sight that makes all the pain bearable. You’re free. My daughter is free.” She took his hand in hers and they sat silently for a moment. “You’re leaving with him, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Ama said, swallowing hard.

“Yes you do.”

“How can I leave you like this?” She winced as she looked at his wasted body.

“You have four brothers, three with wives that will fuss over me as if I were a child, you know that.” Odrell looked to where Seg stood. “He’s difficult. I can see that. But then, so are you.” He smiled as best he could, then took in a deep breath. “It wasn’t easy raising all you kids without a mother. Especially you. I had no idea what to teach a girl. I could have been a better father…”

“Fa—”

“But I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter.”

The emotions Ama had stifled flooded to the surface as she wrapped her arms around her father. “I love you, Fa. No one, on any world, could have been a better father than you.”

“I love you, too, Tadpole. Now, go on,” Odrell said, his eyes fluttering, “this magic is making me tired.”

His eyes closed, Ama squeezed him once more and placed a kiss on his head. She walked away and found Thuy and Geras already arguing.

“Out of my way, Geras,” Thuy said, as his larger brother blocked his path.

“What’s going on?” Ama asked, casting an accusing eye on her oldest brother.

“Just Geras playing mother again,” Thuy snapped.

“This gresher-brain thinks he’s joining the fifty,” Geras answered.

Ama whipped her head around, wild energy sparking into her eyes, “No! Thuy, you didn’t agree to come with them, did you?”

“Of course I did, I’m not sending you off alone.”

She hauled off and drove her fist into his shoulder, wincing at the pain it sent to her injury, “You idiot! NO! You’re staying here.”

“Ow!” Thuy staggered at the blow, more from surprise than pain. “No, I’m coming with you. You’ve made your decision. I’ve made mine. Don’t tell me you’re on his side?” Thuy glared at Geras.

“You’re not going,” Ama said. “This isn’t about sides. You don’t know what it’s like there.”

“That’s what you said about the temple,” Thuy countered.

“And you were lucky to walk away. You saw the dead,” she reminded him.

“If it’s blood you’re looking for, there’s enough here. We need every man who can fight,” Geras added.

Thuy’s eyes burned between his siblings, then settled on Ama. “You of all people should understand.” He turned sharply, to join the ranks of the fifty Kenda, and was met with Viren’s fist across his chin.

He dropped in a heap, out cold. Ama gasped as she watched him fall, then raised her face to Viren’s.

Viren shook out his hand, “That always hurts more than I think it will.” He glanced over to two nearby Kenda and pointed to Thuy, “Take him back to the boathouse and don’t let him come back out here until we’re gone. Tie him up if you have to.”

“Thank you,” Ama said.

“As I explained,” Viren gave her a sly wink, “I excel at trouble. Now to speak with Brin.” He tilted his head and strode away.

Ama was left alone with Geras. An awkward silence passed between them. At length, her brother spoke, “You’re certain Corrus was on that skyship, at the Secat?”

“No,” she confessed, “But the Shasir wouldn’t send Dagga alone, without ‘the hand of the gods’ to keep their beloved skyship pure.”

“Of course not.”

They both added at once, “But make sure you find his body”, “But we have to make sure he’s dead”. A smile slipped between them.

“For once we agree on something,” he said. “Don’t worry, if Corrus survived he’ll wish he hadn’t.”

Another stretch of silence threatened, but Geras nodded toward Seg who was deep in conversation with Brin, “Will he take care of you?”

“We’ll take care of each other.”

“Well then…”

“Geras,” Ama raised her uninjured arm, and opened her mouth to speak, though no words came out.

“Try to stay out of trouble there, wherever
there
is,” he said, and ruffled her hair, as he used to do when she was small.

“I’ll try,” Ama said, lowered her head and let out a low laugh.

Seg gestured toward the smoky horizon as he reached his conclusion. “Brin, believe me when I say this: I have studied the culture and history of over a hundred worlds. You think I have given you freedom. I have not. Most especially not to you. I’ve given you the most terrible burden a man can face–you will be their king, their ruler, whatever you choose to call yourself.

First, I would advise you to begin conjuring your own magic with the tale of the twelve Kenda that fought at the Alisir temple. ‘The stand of the twelve’, however you want to call it. Just remember, it doesn’t matter that there were actually thirteen Kenda; the human mind responds better to even numbers. Stay with ‘the dozen’. That story, properly utilized, will give you the Welf. There will be holdouts who stay with the remnants of the Shasir, but you will be able to deal with them. Take those Damiar who follow the new flow of power and use them for their wealth, resources, and connections but never trust them. Eventually, they will resume their positions under new mastery.”

He paused, weighing his words before turning back to Brin.

“But to the Shasir and any Damiar who stand with them, you must show no mercy. You must exterminate those who remain and let the noncombatants flee in whatever way they may find. Send with them a message to their home territory that any who come to your land will share the same fate. They defeated you, and you waited generations for your vengeance. Do not make their mistake. You must break them and wipe them out of history so they do not fester and seethe and someday rise against you. As leader, it will be your duty to your people. You will soon learn that leadership of this type involves lying, coercion, and butchery.”

His expression flattened, the evening light, now under a veil of clouds, gave his face an eerie hue. “You’ll never sleep well again, Brin. I didn’t give you freedom. I gave you war. What you make of it for yourself and your people will determine your fate.”

Brin nodded thoughtfully, though Seg wondered how much he had taken in. He was a skilled leader but, until now, he had only led his own kind. Men who wanted him to lead them. Now he would have to rule an entire land, including his enemies.

The warp gate hummed; Fismar had hovered the rider through, now Shan was shepherding the first of Seg’s new personal army to their new home. After the last one through, the components of the gate would self-destruct, melt into useless slag and leave nothing usable behind.

Seg twisted and hobbled to face Brin again, “Blood for water, Brin of the Kenda.”

“Blood for water, brother,” Brin said in return.

“I can wait longer if you’d like to kiss goodbye,” Viren interjected, pulled a frayed benga stick from his pocket and popped the best end into his mouth.

“You can leave now,” Seg said with a wave of his free hand. “I need to speak to Ama. Alone.”

“Ah yes,” Viren said, “speaking of kisses. Well then, I’ll just take my place in line.” He turned to Brin, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him away, speaking in Kenda. Seg couldn’t make out much but he was certain he heard the word ‘woman’ and caught a wolfish glance in Shan’s direction.