Amber Houston

The natives, it turned out, could run like lightning. Their passing resemblance to kangaroos became an uncanny resemblance when they really opened up over level, clear terrain; they shifted from their slightly ungainly walk to a fluid bounding action with their tails out behind them for balance, and left Amber, Roy, and Nikki far behind.

Which was saying something, because the McKay twins could run like the wind themselves. By human standards, they were extreme high-performance athletes; they were both track and field gold medalists on Dandelion, and Roy in particular had broken numerous long-standing records. But by space-lion-kangaroo standards…

The human trio slowed down to gawp at the vanishing aliens.

“How fast are they going?” Roy asked, sounding incredulous.

“About…at least seventy?” Nikki guessed. “And I think they’re pacing themselves.”

“That’s…” Roy paused, lost for words. “Faster’n us.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Nikki agreed.

“Language,” Amber chided, but her heart wasn’t in it. She’d had to scramble along at a dead sprint, even though the twins had slowed for her benefit, and was now leaning forward with her hands on her knees gulping for air.

“Sorry.”

“Tha’ss…an understatement though…” Amber agreed. “How…much faster?”

“A lot faster.”

“I noticed,” Amber remarked drily.

“Well, whaddya want? It’s not like we measured it or anything!”

“Me and Roy aren’t ever gonna run that fast, Amber,” Nikki said a little more levelly. “Roy can keep up with a streetcar. They can outrun DANI’s trains. That’s fast enough.”

“So what do we do? Go back for the quad?” Roy asked.

Amber glanced back over her shoulder, suddenly torn. On the one hand, she liked Sjívull. The alien was intelligent, interesting, and could provide an important insight into the way things worked on Newhome. If trouble was about to explode around him, she didn’t want to see him hurt or…whatever was happening.

But on the other hand, she had a troop full of children to think about. And their two best fighters—their only two real fighters—were right in front of her. It was a wrenching sort of position to be in, but liking Sjívull had to come a distant second compared to that responsibility…which she really should have remembered sooner, before they’d come running down the path.

“No. We go back and we dig in and we protect the troop,” she said.

“Ah crap, we left the kids unprotected!” Roy backpedaled toward the path. Nikki raised her rifle and took a good look through the scope in the direction of the natives.

“Well. Good luck, guys…” she muttered.

“Nikki!” Roy urged her. “Now ain’t the time for sightseeing!”

Nikki got moving. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Mercifully, they set a pace Amber could match as they ran back up the forest trail toward the outpost…or at least she could match it right up until she failed to spot a tree root in the failing light and crashed knee-first into a rock. Something went click in an unbelievably painful way, and she knew immediately this one wasn’t a graze. She couldn’t resist the cry of agony that tore up out of her.

“Amber!” Nikki was at her side in a flash. “Are you okay?”

“My knee…” Amber managed. It hurt, so badly that it knotted her stomach and it was all she could do not to whimper. The slightest little movement made fresh agony shoot out of it.

“Houston Hiccup?” Roy asked hopefully.

“Not this time.”

The twins both swore, then Nikki handed her brother her rifle and hoisted Amber up into a fireman’s carry. Amber’s knee went click a second time, and she yelped…but in fact it immediately felt better. Not great, but the pain instantly dropped several notches, and that alone was enough to make her gasp with relief, even though it still hurt quite a lot.

“Amber?”

“It…just got a lot better.”

“Ooh. Dislocated kneecap. I’ve had those.” Roy sounded relieved.

“Oh, great. Wonderful.” Amber took refuge in sarcasm as Nikki’s every step sent a little jolt of pain back down her leg. “I remember you took three weeks to recover…”

“The doctor told him to give it six,” Nikki recalled.

“I know myself better than they do,” Roy grumbled. “I heal up fast. See ‘ya at camp.”

He gave them both a serious nod, then charged back to camp at the fastest sprint he could manage. Funny, he was speeding down the path at a pace that would have seemed like a blur only twenty minutes ago. Now that they’d seen what Sjívull could do…Nikki at least restricted herself to a jog. Amber wasn’t too fond of being carried like a sack of potatoes, but it was that or limp painfully back at a snail’s pace.

Now of all times. Just when things were hanging in the balance, when the kids needed her, when there were decisions to make and maybe some kind of hostile aliens out there, she had to go and be clumsy. It made her feel completely stupid, and being carried didn’t make her feel any less worthless.

Nikki paused after a hundred paces or so. “Are you okay?”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“I keep tripping all over myself!” Amber objected.

“That doesn’t make you stupid, dummy. It’s just, you’re smart in a different way than me or, well, Roy.”

Amber sighed unhappily. “Your way seems more useful right now.”

“Are you kid—” Nikki began, twisting as she tried to half-look over her shoulder.

“No! I’ve been getting in the way since we landed! Roy was right about the campsite, you were right about trusting his judgement…” Amber tried to push herself more upright on Nikki’s shoulder, then gasped as a new ice shard slipped through her abused knee. “…All I’ve done is argue and boss people around. And now here you are, carrying me because I can’t even run right.”

Nikki hesitated, then found a low tree limb to sit down on and transferred Amber from her shoulder to her lap for a hug.

“You really think we could have handled meeting aliens without you? ‘Cuz I don’t.”

Amber really wasn’t in the mood for being hugged, but it wasn’t like she had an alternative. What could she do, walk away on her throbbing knee?

Still. It didn’t feel comforting. It made her feel…childish. Like she was a little one being cuddled to make everything better.

“Let go,” she said after a few seconds.

Nikki looked surprised, and maybe a little hurt…but she did as Amber asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t…I…” Amber shook her head to try to unscramble some of the thoughts that kept dashing through it, to see if she could get them to settle in some kind of order. “…I’m not a teddy bear. And I’m not a child.”

It was funny. Even though the expression on Nikki’s face didn’t seem to change at all from her slight frown of concern, Amber could almost hear and feel the thoughts and feelings that flashed through her mind. Very slowly, so as not to jar her knee, Nikki transferred Amber out of her lap and helped her sit on the branch beside her.

“That’s how you treat me, sometimes,” Amber explained. “And I know you mean well, you and Roy. Putting Mister Wiggle in my bag was…it was so typical of you two. You’re thoughtful and loving…but…”

After a few seconds she scrubbed at her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

Nikki took her hand.

“You’re our sister,” she said softly. “We just wanna look out for you.”

Amber sighed and leaned into her. “I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“That’s what family does, dummy!” Nikki objected. “Come on, how many times have you looked out for us in turn? Helpin’ us with homework, gettin’ us to use our brains…if you left us alone, Roy and me, we’d just think with our muscles.”

“You’re not stupid!” Amber objected.

“Thanks, but…that ain’t what I’m saying. We don’t look at stuff like you do. And I think you need as many different ways of looking at stuff as possible, you know? Sometimes we need a meathead like Roy, sometimes we need a hands-on type like me, and sometimes we need…”

She tapped Amber’s arm with her knuckles, then waved her other hand in the vague direction of the river and the aliens. “I mean, you already speak their language!”

“You’re learning it, too,” Amber replied, not feeling at all ready to give up on her sulk just yet.

“Learning, sure. You speak it! Amber, you are not useless! C’mon, d’you really think me an’ my bro would let you boss us around if we thought you were?”

“I don’t feel like I’ve earned it,” Amber said.

“Well…you have in my book, okay? So no more moping.” Nikki couldn’t resist one last trademark McKay crush-hug with one arm before standing up.

“I wasn’t moping! And that doesn’t answer why, either.”

Nikki grinned and knelt to offer her a fireman’s carry. “Do I have to explain why? Maybe I don’t know.”

“Why is important, Nick.” Amber sighed, but she put her arms around her friend’s neck and let herself be lifted.

“To you, sure. Me? I just go with my gut, lil’ sis. Ain’t led me wrong so far.”

True to her word, Nikki took the trail up to the outpost fairly gently. By the time they got back, Roy had already shouted the Rangers out of the water, into their clothes, and inside the building. Now he was standing watch outside, lurking in the shadows around the side of the structure where the solar-powered lamps didn’t illuminate.

“Who goes there?” he demanded.

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“It’s your sister and your best friend, buttface!” Nikki retorted. She carried Amber to the door as Roy checked on them.

“You okay, Am?” he asked.

“She’s all mopey,” Nikki said before Amber could reply.

“Don’t blame ya,” Roy agreed. “You just leave the heavy lifting to us and do what you do best, ‘kay?”

“Trip over stuff?” Amber asked. Joking about it made her feel a little better, though.

“Yeah. See if you can do the other knee, there’s bonus points for symmetry.”

Amber laughed even as Nikki set her down, and she tentatively bore weight on her knee. It hurt enough to make her grit her teeth, and she was undoubtedly grateful to have Nikki to lean on, but it held up enough for her to hobble in through the door.

“There’s painkillers in the medical crate,” Roy reminded her. “You need ‘em. Don’t try to tough it out.”

“You always do…”

“‘Cuz I’m on a first name basis with pain. You ain’t.”

Amber sighed and nodded. It was the kind of advice she’d have given anybody else.

“Amber!” Arianna Mayweather danced between the sleeping bags with all the grace Amber felt she herself lacked and scrambled to take her off Nikki’s hands. “What happened?”

“Dislocated my knee…” Amber grumbled. Arianna pulled a face and immediately went into nurse mode.

“Okay, I think we have some cold compresses and painkillers, and you’ll need to let it rest…” she began, though it was mostly thinking aloud to help herself remember. Amber had to admit, she was impressed. In short order she’d been shown to her sleeping bag, bedded down, and Arianna had given her a dose of pain pills and strapped one of the strange chemical cold compresses to her leg, the kind with a gel inside that slowly froze into a slush when she activated it.

The most important step was delivered via U-Tool. The regeneratives in a medical cartridge would see her back on her feet sooner, but the injection hurt. A lot.

Soon enough, the pain faded until Amber was almost comfortable. After that early success, Nurse Mayweather was unstoppable, and she hovered over her patient, bringing a meal pack, water, a second blanket, and offering more until Amber finally managed to remind her that the best thing for a patient was rest and quiet, please.

She got it. Arianna retreated to her little nest in the corner with Floyd, full of earnest promises to be there in a flash if Amber needed anything, and Amber was finally alone to lie back and think.

She could hear Roy and Nikki patrolling outside. That couldn’t last forever; the twins might be able to pull guard duty for one night, but they’d have to sleep and rest sometime, not to mention get their exercise, help out around the place…

Her mind tried to wheel and plan. But she was too tired, and she soon fell asleep.

She dreamed of swords and fire.

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Sjívull Wylderrjorssían

There were unwelcome familiar sails on the river, and a standoff on the shore. Sjívull’s men were standing by with spear and shield at the ready, torches raised. If any of the new arrivals tried to come ashore, they’d be slaughtered.

That fact didn’t seem to worry the absolute boulder of a bjerkar perched on the ship’s rail in full armor. Sjívull couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a man so squat and broad; he looked almost like a dwarf—a Hyooman—himself. And that armor and the sword in his hand were expensive, well-made, and exquisitely detailed. Clearly he was from a wealthy family, and in service to a wealthy lord.

Authority, however, belonged to the ragged scoundrel beside him, who was calmly thumbing some chewing-leaf into his mouth while grinning a snaggle-toothed smile at Wavebird’s crew. His clothing and possessions didn’t look like much, but Sjívull knew better than to size a man up by his belongings alone—the rogue was unquestionably the ship’s owner and captain.

The runes on the prow spelled the name Syrlla’s Song. A braggadocious name for a swaggering scarred pirate of a ship. Several of the timbers in its hull were a different wood where repairs had been made, and the sails were patched and stained. The rigging, however, was strong, and the repairs looked solid.

Whoever the grinning rascal was, he was experienced, wily and clever…and unlike the burly warrior beside him, he knew how to command respect beyond simple fear. His eyes sparkled in the torchlight as Sjívull rejoined his men.

“And here, I think, is your master…young Lord Wylderrjorssían! I come to parley!”

Sjívull glanced up at Drynllaf, then sniffed and drew his cloak around him to step forward straight-backed and proud. “I accept your parley, Captain,” he announced clearly, “though I do not know what conflict we have!”

The vagabond grinned wider. “May I come ashore?”

“You alone.”

“My employer here as well,” the captain retorted, gesturing to the bjerkar.

Employer. Ah. “I see the nature of our conflict, now. Very well. Him, too.”

As the crew of Syrlla’s Song lowered their ramp so their captain and paymaster could alight, Sjívull took a step backward and conferred quietly with Drynllaf.

“Do we know these men?”

“The mercenary isn’t known to me…” Drynllaf mused. “The other man, though…the last time I met a wealthy man so short and wide, his name was Serkar. One of Lord Grey-Cheek’s men.”

“Erthrif Storm-Rider’s father,” Sjívull recalled. The rivalry between Lord Storm-Rider and Sjívull’s father was a bitter one, made worse by the fact that Wylderrjor maintained he had done Erthrif no wrong.

“Aye.”

“He must be paying these mercenaries a great deal.”

“Or have some stranglehold over them,” Drynllaf pointed out.

“Well. At least it’s nothing personal, then…” Sjívull joked bitterly. “…Axe.”

Drynllaf took an axe from one of the men and pressed it into his hand. The mercenary captain set foot on the land, and Sjívull stepped forward again. He flipped the axe over in his hand and presented it to the other man, handle-first.

“Sjívull, heir of Wylderrjor,” he introduced himself formally.

The mercenary nodded and offered his own axe in reply. “Tarrskyn, son of Eidder,” he replied. The man was well-mannered, despite his appearance. They took each other’s axes—a solemn commitment to truce between them until at least the next sunset. Behind Tarrskyn, the bjerkar shifted and scowled unhappily.

“Bring water, meat, and something to sit on,” Sjívull ordered over his shoulder. There were customs to a parley, and he would sooner drown than shame his family by neglecting them.

Tarrskyn spread his hands apologetically. “I regret I have no gift for my host,” he said. “Will you accept this belt buckle? It is all I have.”

“You may keep your buckle, son of Eidder,” Sjívull replied.

“You are most generous, young lord.” Tarrskyn bowed, and sat down on the barrel one of Wavebird’s crewmen placed behind him. “To business. As you’ve likely guessed, I’ve been hired to kidnap you.”

“At what price?” Sjívull asked.

Tarrskyn’s ragged, scarred ear flicked sadly. “Immaterial, I’m afraid. My employer has paid…enough. Spoiling my reliable reputation would cost more than is in your power to give.”

Sjívull nodded. He’d expected as much. Mercenaries with a reputation for switching sides in the middle of a job tended to find themselves out of work in short order. Instead, he turned his attention to the bjerkar.

“And how much does Lord Erthrif Storm-Rider plan to ransom me for?” he asked.

If glares could harm, the one the bjerkar gave him would have left Sjívull broken, bleeding, and dead. Tarrskyn, however, burst out laughing. His mirth was raucous, coarse, and not, Sjívull thought, completely dishonest, either. He got the impression Tarrskyn didn’t much like his employer.

“I told you, bjerkar!” the pirate crowed. “You’re as subtle as a sailor with a wench on his knee!”

“Shut up,” the bjerkar grunted. He stepped forward and continued to glare at Sjívull, who felt Drynllaf stiffen beside him and put a hand on his sword. “We have the bigger ship and the larger and more seasoned crew. These men are killers, young lord. Yours are…what? Fishermen?”

He sneered at Wavebird’s crew, who muttered angrily among themselves until Sjívull raised a hand and they settled down.

“Hardly. These are brave men and true sailors. But say what you have to say.”

“I will collect you and take you home, one way or another,” the bjerkar stated. “You can come as my guest, and your crew will live to return home to their wives and babes…or you can come as my prisoner, with their blood soaking your cloak.”

“Your offer is rejected,” Sjívull declared, not even bothering with the pretense of giving it some thought. “We hold the land and have a barricade. You don’t have the advantage so much as you think.”

“Then I will burn your ship and strand you here,” the bjerkar snarled. “We have flasks of fire oil. Once your ship is worthless ashes, I will leave you to starve, while my crew get fat on fishing and plumeback hunting. And when your men are so hungry they start to think of eating their crewmates, I will return with a bounty of good meat and drink…and then we’ll see just how loyal they really are, hmm?”

“Is a ransom so much worse than all that, young lord?” Tarrskyn asked reasonably. “It would be a true shame to see a fine ship like yours burned down to the keel…”

Sjívull sighed and stood. “This is not a parley; you’re just making threats,” he said. “I will not be bullied into a coward’s surrender on my first voyage, and my men are braver and more resourceful than you think, gentlemen. We can hunt this land for food, we can build a hall here and drink sap-wine around the fire while your crew curse you and shiver on the open water. And when the plumebacks and fish swim to warmer waters in the winter, then what will you do?”

He took Tarrskyn’s axe from Drynllaf. “I will not ride back as your ‘guest.’ That is my only answer, and I return your axe, Captain.”

Tarrskyn nodded, though he looked pleased, Sjívull thought. Or at least approving. They exchanged axes again, and the parley was finished.

“Gods guide you, Wylderrjor’s heir,” he offered warmly.

“And you, Eidder’s son,” Sjívull returned. He had to admit, he rather respected the scruffy mercenary captain. His crew had reacted with poorly concealed displeasure when the bjerkar had claimed them as his own; a man who commanded loyalty like that deserved Sjívull’s esteem, no matter where his own loyalties lay.

He stood and watched in silent thought as Tarrskyn and the bjerkar returned to their ship, the ramp was raised, and Syrlla’s Song pushed away from the shore and floated with the current, down the river and around the bend. They wouldn’t go far.

As soon as they were out of sight, he glanced up at the sky. The sun was completely set by now, but the sky was clear with no sign of clouds, and the moons were more than half full. They had light to see by, enough that Sjívull even saw a bird of some kind circling far overhead as it passed in front of one moon. That was a good sign.

“We work all night,” he said. “Get Wavebird out of the water and back from the shore. I won’t leave her in reach of those fire flasks.”

“Aye,” Drynllaf agreed. “They might have been bluffing, but that’s not a risk worth taking…of course, you know this isn’t the best spot to defend around here.”

Sjívull glanced at him. “No. The hyoomans have that.”

“Perhaps we can persuade them to trade.”

“Perhaps,” Sjívull admitted. “But we’d never get Wavebird up there. And if we lose the ship, it’ll be a long while before we can build a replacement to sail home.”

“Aye. You’re right, best to stand where we are. A little further back from the shore.”

Sjívull chuckled. “Make it so,” he ordered.

They set to work.

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Tarrskyn Eiddersbor

“I like that young man.”

Tarrskyn permitted himself a satisfied flick of the tail when Shulft glared at him. Annoying the bjerkar was proving to be a consistent source of entertainment, and Shulft was so utterly lacking in humor that getting a pleasing rise out of him was easy.

“You’re not here to like him, you’re here to capture him,” the burly man growled.

“Shulft, you really need to learn that it’s possible to be a man’s enemy and bear him no real malice.”

Shulft simply grunted and thumped toward the prow. Tarrskyn turned back toward the stern, enjoying a moment’s peace and the cool night breeze on his face.

“And it’s possible to be a man’s ally and hate his guts,” he added for his own benefit. He sighed and wished for a second that he’d been smarter or more persuasive in approaching Lord Steel-Hand. Wylderrjor was notoriously stiff-backed, but he was also reputed to be very fair. Tarrskyn could have won favor by warning him of Erthrif’s plot against the young lord Sjívull, if only he’d pushed and bribed a little harder to get an audience…

Too late now. He’d taken the job, sailed with Shulft, and it had so far turned out to be a lot of trouble. For the gods’ sakes, they’d crossed the ocean to uncharted lands! That took daring, skill, and leadership, Tarrskyn knew.

Young Lord Sjívull was neither a coward nor an incompetent, and Tarrskyn had seen the fire in his men’s eyes, even if Shulft was blind to it. This would not be simple.

He needed a plan. Shulft had tipped their hand with his threat of burning the boat, so no doubt the first thing Sjívull would do would be to take his craft safely up onto the shore, where Tarrskyn’s men could not reach it. And the young lord had been quite right about the migrating plumebacks and fish…

This needed to end soon, and quickly. Which meant Tarrskyn needed…something. Some crack to stick a wedge into and cleave open.

“Scouts,” he ordered. Three of his stealthiest men were at his side in an instant.

“We’re going to double back. Search around the area where young Sjívull makes his camp, watch them, find me something we can use. I’ll have the ship pick us up in two nights.”

They muttered variants along the lines of “Aye, Captain,” and fetched their gear, while Tarrskyn left careful instructions with his most senior and trusted crew. Among their instructions was a stern injunction not to obey Shulft’s orders.

Once they were ready, the ship pulled up to the shore, and the four of them sprang ashore. They turned in the dark and watch Syrlla’s Song shove off back into the current. Even though their sails were probably still just visible from the Wavebird camp, their stop had been brief enough it probably escaped notice.

“Quietly now…” Tarrskyn murmured and led the way. He could see Shulft glowering on his ship’s stern with his armor gleaming in the moonlight. Tarrskyn wasn’t like that. He’d grown up knowing the value of shadows and invisibility.

With a gesture and a low whistle, he rallied his scouts and led them back upstream.

There were secrets to dig up, he just knew it.