Janine climbed onto the outer hull, hearing the clack of the doors closing, and an intense, howling wind greeted the warlord, blowing dust from exploding missiles and smoke into her snout. Explosions danced across the shield like fireworks. She sunk the claws on her feet deep into the hull, facing the mountain of metal that was Mehmed.
His own claws pierced the hull to keep him steady; the plates on his back opened akin to petals to fully release the engine that had brought him here. Mehmed’s hands spasmed, closing and opening, accompanied by the whirring of the ever-moving gears on his helmet.
“Off my ship,” Janine told him.
“N-no,” Mehmed stuttered, focusing his lenses. “This ship belongs… belonged to my uncle.”
“I stole it fair and square. Mine now.”
“Your people can go. They can even take the ship. I-I killed a lot of people before and was, no... is, a vile man, but now I understand the gravity of what I have done.” He raised an arm, examining his twitching fingers, his voice cracking as the dynamics struggled to produce desperation. “Locked in this tomb, feeling nothing, being turned on and off… Like a clock! And I am not undead! I live! I don’t know how, but I am alive! You did it to me! It is because of you that the Sky has recreated me in this form! You took everything from me, but I will not; I cannot do the same to you!”
“Because you are too weak,” Janine teased him, hoping to bait him into making an opening.
“L-laugh all you want. I am strong now. Gifted with this unholy power, I can unmake you. And I will, and I will wear your skin as a cloak, mark my word. But turn you into me? No, never. It is not just. It’s beyond cruelty!” He clutched his head. “Everyone should feel something, should be someone. Not like this. Janine. Let me kill you, and I swear to let the rest go. Only your destruction can bring me s-s-succor and salvation. P-please. D-die.”
“Never. I have people to live for.” She tilted her head. “Mehmed… Who are you, really?”
“Retribution incarnate!” roared the hulking suit, advancing on her. “I will rend the flesh from your bones!”
Mehmed’s engine spewed flames, carrying him forward as he dragged his lower left arm across the hull, collecting debris and hurling it at her eye. Janine craned her head aside, patiently waiting for his upward swing to almost scrape her stomach, and sidestepped the blow, bringing the Taleteller down on the exposed joint of his arm.
Forged in ancient times, the unnaturally sharp edge cut through the thinner defensive scute and continued on, slicing through cables and machinery, taking his arm away cleanly at the wrist. She stopped the axe’s momentum, sparing the ship from its attack, and leaned back, unable to avoid an elbow that forced her back.
“Big fucking deal,” Mehmed said, stopping his flight and hopping sideways at Janine.
His torso spun, his left upper arm scraping the edge of the Taleteller as his shortened arm crashed into her ribs, bleeding sparks. He rammed the crippled edge into her body, forcing a groan of pain from her as the steel carved through her hide, nearing her ribs, and a surge of electricity followed, shaking her repeatedly and cauterizing the wound.
Trusting her instincts, Janine refused to retreat, wary of the gaping emptiness behind her. She had her fill of falling and pushed back against Mehmed as the metal man strained his legs and increased the output of his engine, intending to carry them both off the ship. His right arms struck, and the Taleteller’s butt landed on them, deflecting the blows. His helmet almost closed to her head, and Janine thought about taking a chance and jumping aside as her eyes focused on the surrounding chaos.
Missiles. Several of them were approaching.
“Ignacy! Shield down, two seconds!” Janine laughed, calculating the speed and trajectory of the incoming projectiles, and her opponents grunted, enraged at the mockery.
She briefly assumed that her son didn’t hear her, but then the bubble around the Sky Carrier disappeared, inviting the missiles, and several of them streaked past the fighters, with one exploding against Mehmed’s back with such force that it almost knocked them both to the edge. He swayed, surprised at the lack of support from his ruined engine, and Janine pushed him back.
They came up against each other, claws facing the axe, his legs automatically biting into the hull. The mantle of billowing flame spread sideways from Mehmed’s back, forming another trail of smoke, and several plates broke and flew away as his suit tried to close the breach.
The weapons collided, and Janine narrowed her eyes, searching for any sign of instability or flaw. No luck. Mehmed met her undaunted, slicing and blocking, oblivious to the inferno at his back. Janine cursed under her breath and dove to the side, breaking the stalemate. The ship’s speed and wind pressure caught up with the warlord, sending her spinning towards the main engines. She had to use her free arm to stop herself. But the gambit paid off. Her back was no longer facing the empty sky.
She stood up, coughing from the throbbing pain in her side. Weary. She had lost too much blood. The exhaustion caught up with her. Janine noticed how deep Mehmed’s feet were in the hull, and an idea formed in her mind.
The Taleteller struck, shearing away a slice of metal from just as Mehmed charged toward her, beating up huge chunks from the hull. She faced him halfway, denying him the chance to reach his maximum speed. Caught in the blinding exchange of thrusts and cuts, she landed a strike against his lower arm, but the smooth surface of his limb turned the brunt of her blow aside.
“I am no longer bound by the limitations of a h-human body,” Mehmed half-whimpered, half-laughed, and his intact lower arm curled back at the joint, completely avoiding the second blow as his remaining arms hammered down. Janine frowned, feeling a bruise growing on her shoulder as she failed to evade the blow.
Mehmed’s forearms rotated, turning his upper arms into drills, and he caught her incoming blow on one spinning arm. In a blast of sparks, he jerked her axe up, exposing her body. Eager to deliver the killing blow, the last drill went in and missed its mark as Janine chose not to fight in their previous stalemate and smashed the Taleteller’s pommel into his helmet, shattering two of his lenses.
His lower arm punched, shattering her nose, and Janine retreated, wildly swinging the axe once before herself, breaking more of the hull. Her breathing quickened; she let her tongue hang loose and opened her eye wide.
From anticipation. So simple to mistake for fear.
“Y-you are br-breaking do-down!” Mehmed laughed, pummeling Janine.
His blows flowed in and out in perfect synchronicity and yet at irregular intervals, perfectly preventing even a minuscule joint’s exposure. With some insane prediction and reaction, Mehmed’s forearms began spinning a moment before every counterattack, deflecting each cut and rewarding Janine’s efforts with incoming bone-crushing blows. Janine took another step back, fighting for every breath and feeling the weight of her weapon striking against the metal surface as Mehmed swatted it aside.
Bruises covered her torso, long welts spread on her arms, starting at her knuckles where his drills grazed her hide. On one shoulder, her skin fluttered wide where his claws had hooked it. But best of all, she had him right where she needed him.
“Y-yes, t-that’s right, Janine,” Mehmed said. “Into the fire we p-plunge, together. There the two will become one, and so I could be reborn like a p-phoenix by the Sky…”
There was more to being a warlord than just being a fighter. Some strong individuals never fully understood this until it was too late for them. When a warlord fought, she paid attention to every detail, coordinating the assault of her pack, acting like a skilled smith, shaping even unwinnable battles into inevitable triumphs. Traps, situational awareness, feints, and teamwork—everything that could be used was used. This was the lesson Janine was about to teach Mehmed.
He took a step, and Janine pounced on him. Mehmed wasn’t a terrible fighter, but he had unwittingly hindered his skills by laser focusing on her. And that had cost him victory, for his leg kicked against the torn hull plate and, unable to find a foothold, slipped away from the ship. Desperately, the metal giant grabbed the ship with his lower arm and threw a clumsy punch, trying to drive her away.
Janine stepped into his range, evading this pathetic attempt, and buried her axe in his knee joint, enjoying the sweet music of his fiber muscles tearing. Another swing tore through an arm, exposing the chest. Wielding the Taleteller in one paw, Janine grabbed Mehmed into a hold and mercilessly began slashing. At close range, the hordeman’s own long arm prevented him from swatting her aside; his occasional elbows no longer had the precision and confidence they once had, and Janine unleashed her precious hoarded fury, switching from defensive to offensive.
The first swing split his helmet in two, and sparks set squirting oil aflame. Mehmed thrashed; his arms closed around her torso as he tried to roll off the edge alongside her, and she heaved his form back onto the middle of their ship, not bothering to break the hold. Her next slash sliced away his arm at the shoulder, and it flew backward, drumming once against the engines. More and more cuts rained down on the metal man, tearing deep gashes in his breastplate. Her leg stomped on his remaining foot, damaging it.
“You wanted me? Here I am. Come out.” She flexed his muscles, delivering a powerful cut to the hatch in his chest, twisting the blade as it pierced the metal.
Pure horror looked at her through a single camera inside. There was no human body, no monstrously twisted Malformed, but a diabolical amalgamation of human brain encased in an armored casing and soulless devices operating the combat suit. Artificial hands held the jar in which Mehmed’s brain floated in some unknown, malignant fluid. Plugs and wires entered through the top of the coffin and into the frontal lobe, impaling the poor man.
“D-delive-er-r-rance…” came from the dynamics, stopping the fatal blow.
She had never seen anything like this in her entire life, dismissing the Blessed Mother’s fear of doctors and the Crippled’s stubborn insistence on preserving the sanctity of their bodies. What was there to be scared of, a steel limb or a cold artificial eye gleaming in the socket? …let the victims either die or live a hellish existence. The progenitor’s words resounded in her mind. How right she was. There was a certain limit where a simple replacement would turn existence into torture, scarring a soul forever.
At the thought of the Blessed Mother, a fresh jolt of energy touched her body. Janine’s muscles partially reknitted, nay, not just healing but growing tougher, regaining elasticity. The trickles of blood stopped; a wafer-thin membrane grew over the wounds. Along with the cherished and so annoyingly irritating itch, a rush of adrenaline cleared her mind of exhaustion as her body used its reserves to adapt to the change. A rich reward from her power, indeed. The feeling was pleasant but unsettling.
Twice she had received the reward when she had thought herself standing at the peak. Perhaps the Spirit of Rage was toying with her? But no, she was sane; not a hint of madness poisoned her thoughts, nor did she feel excessive anger.
Her paw closed around Mehmed’s brain jar, ripping it out and silencing his pleading cries. The suit went limp, and Janine instinctively kicked it off the ship when she heard a faint beep. The empty suit splattered on the inside of the force sphere and soon exploded in a massive fireball as the warlord headed back, carrying her prisoner along. Till Ingo would want to know what had happened to Mehmed and how to replicate it. Pity about the armor.
“What in the Below was going on up there?!” Dokholkhu met Janine below. “Why are you all torn up, khan? And what is this thing…”
“Mehmed.” She called a warrior to take her prisoner.
“Mehmed?” Dokholkhu stumped.
“That’s impossible,” Jaliqai said, looking at the brain floating inside the container.
“Why?” Janine asked.
“He saved us!”
“Helped!” Jaliqai corrected her brother. “We’ve seen Mehmed. Drank together, played bones… This isn’t him.” She pressed a fist to her lips as the frantically moving camera stopped opposite her face. “He was a human, a normal human. We heard he died in a battle. It can’t be him. No way.”
Robbed of his body, not once but twice, Mehmed was stuck in a situation where he could think and see but no longer could move or feel… Please, Spirits, let me never experience this. And if possible, have mercy on this lost soul. Punish him for his transgressions in the afterlife, but give him a happier reincarnation. She left, saying nothing to the cubs. There were no words.
“How badly was our birdie hit?” Janine inquired, giving Ignacy a thumb up as he tinkered with the wires.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Perfect, most glorious khan!” Beamed the pilot. “The damage is minimal; the Sky Carrier can take much more than that. There are no pursuits on the radar, and we have reached top speed. Give me two hours tops, and I shall deliver you to your city…”
“City?” Janine’s ears perked up as the realization of potential danger hit her. “Does this thing have…”
“It has a broadcasting system.” Ignacy reassured her, pointing to the panel. “I inputted your personal IDs, and since we are in the Reclaimers’ aerospace and are still in one piece, it’s safe to say that they are working just…”
“Yeah, yeah, you are going with me,” Janine said, calling another male to watch over the pilot and forcibly dragging Ignacy into the corridor between the compartments.
“Is everything fine, warlord…” Thyia began asking.
“Yes.” Janine closed the door in her face and seated Ignacy, checking his injuries.
“There really is no need,” Ignacy tried to argue.
“What, a mother can’t check on her son’s well-being? Relax, I licked you and Bogdan clean when you were…” She stopped, dropping the painful subject. He let her work in peace, and after she had bandaged his cuts, she grumbled. “Well… You can still have cubs.”
“Or take some in,” Ignacy said.
“Take in?” Janine tensed. “Why do you need to take in cubs? You are healthy; she is healthy. Are you two fighting or… She is afraid of lifegiving. Such cowardice…” She stopped, confused. Elzada had a cub. Why would she be afraid? Then she sighed, letting it go. “I understand. But Ignacy, the tribe won’t understand. The shame of raising orphans is real in the tribe. She may end up ostracized, ridiculed, and mistrusted. The traditions are clear, and the joy of having your own cubs is unrivaled!”
“Mom, I don’t care,” Ignacy said plainly. “If it is not officially forbidden, then it is allowed. Elzada and I have talked about it at length. What do we care about the glances of others? If everything works out and we survive, we will have cubs, our own or otherwise. End of story.”
Janine stopped the urge to snarl. The Crippled, the Branded, orphans, motherless curs… None of them had done anything wrong. Yet there were unspoken rules. Terrific took Janine in her own tent, but she never went so far as to adopt her. It was an insult to the Spirits. Unless a Wolfkin suffered from infertility, she had no right to adopt cubs. A new life had to be born, otherwise there could be no renewal, no progress, no future. The shamans encouraged copulation in the tribe, eagerly sharing advice and often doting over the first-time mothers.
At the same time, Janine partially understood Elzada. A first lifegiving was always horrible. A mixture of excruciating pain and the terrible realization that the life you were carrying had been born dead. And then postpartum depression kicked in, draining the last shreds of will to live and filling a Wolfkin with dread of another lifegiving. The girl had a living son from her first litter, a feat worthy of a warlord, but the experience had probably shaken her more than any grenade. At least the concussion wasn’t permanent. Janine knew from personal experience how it could cripple a person. If it hadn’t been for her friends and her dear soulmate, she really could’ve done something stupid back then.
Could it be the reason? Perhaps Elzada lacked comrades and friends to support her through the darkest time? Would it be wise for her to talk about lifegivings with the woman, or would it be a betrayal of the trust Ignacy had shown her? Better consult Martyshkina before acting.
If Elzada or Martyshkina are still alive, that is. You don’t even know if your daughters or Marco are alive or not. You know nothing. Stop stressing pointlessly.
Janine nodded and sealed her mouth. Who knew, maybe it was a sign from above that another change was needed. Regardless, to her cubs were cubs, no matter the womb that birthed them.
“Ignacy,” she said, startled. “About Bogdan. He was an excellent soldier, a loving father, and a beautiful son. What happened to him is my fault and mine alone. You have every right…”
“Mom.” This time it was Ignacy who hugged her, and Janine growled, holding back a slap. He was a cub no longer! Even familiarity had its limits! Ignacy leaned against the wall, faking a smile. The corners of his lips were down. “I do not hate you. And don’t you dare think Bogdan would ever hate you. It…” He swallowed. “You made the right choice.”
“Thank you.” Janine lied and blinked, remembering the important tidbit. “Wait. How in the Abyss’ accursed asshole do you know my personal ID codes? I never gave them to anyone!”
“I… may have just remembered them from the time Chak and I worked on your armor…” Ignacy smiled nervously, trying his best to merge into the wall at the sight of released claws.
“Ignacy,” Janine said slowly. She closed in, gently biting him to blood on his neck. “This wasn’t your job. There are rules and regulations for a reason. Imagine the damage done if the Gilded Horde tortured the codes out of you. Son, I try to accept… your strange obsession with mechanical things, but everything has limits, and your recklessness makes it harder for me. Never again take or copy anything from my equipment or private information without my permission.” Her claw marked Ignacy’s nose. “Congratulations on your quick thinking and initiative, Ignacy. Once we get back, I’ll send a report and petition the command to award you a medal.”
A crimson light flashed above them, drowning Ignacy’s reply in loud warning sirens. Both doors slid aside, revealing her worried soldier.
“Incoming missile!” The pilot shouted, and Janine cursed, grabbing the man’s seat.
She saw it—a bright spark rising in the air from the forest ahead. Unlike the Horde’s crude anti-aircraft weapons, this was a missile fired from a dedicated SAM launcher. It won’t miss. An icy shiver ran down Janine’s spine as the missile locked onto them.
“But… we are transmitting the ID of a warlord,” Ignacy stuttered. “We crossed the chasm. Who would dare… Has the Horde already swarmed this area?”
“No. It’s not a question of daring, but of idiocy,” Janine said. “Ice Fangs. They can’t identify us because the idiots blocked all communication with us beforehand!” Janine turned to the passenger compartment. She should have thought of this sooner, damn it! “Thyia! Get your traitorous ass over here and enter an Ice Fang ID! You!” she addressed the pilot. “Reduce speed and start lowering the ship.”
“But the missile…”
“Will hit us either way! I don’t want to see us splattering against the ground, do you? Everyone, brace yourselves and prepare for impact!”
The Reclamation Army’s missiles were nothing like the pathetic excuses for explosives used by the Gilded Horde. While the state had never had much in terms of an airforce, apart from Stormfiend, its soldiers encountered a variety of combat robots controlled by half-broken and insane Old World AIs. Malfunctioning and shambling messes though they may have been, it was hard to underestimate the sheer superiority of their energy shields, and when these machines took to the skies, the state had to retreat.
To combat this, Commander Outsider personally oversaw the introduction of the newest vehicles, carrying some of the best SAMs into battle. Designed to explode on contact with a shield, the missile propelled a stream of superheated destruction upwards in a straight line, rather than scattering evenly across the shield. The deadly contents of the missiles literally burned their way through the shield, damaging everything behind it and often hollowing out entire robotic frames.
And it was this that now crashed against the Sky Carrier. Its reserves depleted by the Horde’s assault, the shield did not last even a moment. The pilot threw the vehicle to the left, desperately seeking to escape the small, bright streak heading for the cabin. Rather than spearing through the ship, the chemical beam merely melted away the ornate decoration and licked at the side, disappearing part of the hull in a hiss of steam and eventually reaching the engine clusters, rendering most of them inoperable.
Only the Spirits’ grace and the pilot’s skill had saved the hull from complete collapse, but the Wolfkins in the compartments behind leapt frantically from their seats and pushed their allies away from the fractured wall into a relatively safe cargo bay.
Two more missiles took to the sky, and Janine placed a paw on Ignacy’s shoulder. She did everything she could. She had no regrets about trying to escape. They had deprived the Horde of some soldiers, removed Mehmed, and stolen what she hoped was a crucial aircraft. When the flames engulf them, Janine will be on the other side begging Bogdan for forgiveness, but she refused to wallow in misery.
Thyia’s fingers quickly punched a series of numbers into the terminal, and they breathed a sigh of relief as the missiles veered off course and exploded safely behind the ship. At least the Order’s betrayal was not absolute. The Sky Carrier descended, mowing down the tops of the trees and finally plowing its nose into the ground, dragging itself through the dense forest.
The pilot screamed and raised his hands in a desperate attempt to save himself as the viewport shattered and a splintered tree trunk broke inside. Janine used her own forearm to shield the deserter and elbowed Ignacy away from another flying branch. Her son gasped weakly, clutching his stomach where a shard of wood had pierced his skin. Ignoring her own safety, Janine plugged the broken window with the flat of her axe and tried to keep her footing as their poor Sky Carrier carved a path of destruction across the ground.
It ended as suddenly as it had begun. The trees around them were still falling, and the engines were still spitting air and sparks as Janine sprang into action, barking orders and organizing the evacuation. The brutal landing jammed the ramps, but Jaliqai simply broke off part of the fuselage, widening the gap with the help of her brother.
And nearly died for her efforts. Outside, figures in black and white power armor took aim at the ship, surrounding it completely. The Reclaimers’ curiosity about the ID codes and Janine’s loud growl saved the lives of the Malformed.
Wolfkins, both of the Wolf Tribe and the Ice Fangs, surrounded the fallen aircraft.
“Warlord!” cried a familiar voice as Anissa stepped forward and removed her helmet. The amber eye beamed with joy at the sight of Ignacy and Janine, and even her crimson lens lit up. “The pack is…”
“Warlord?!” Janine roared, backhanding her daughter to the ground. “Warlord? I ordered you to lead the pack; why don’t you wear a proper title?” She stepped on Anissa’s chest. “I claim dominion over the pack. Do you submit?”
“It really is you.” Anissa smiled and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, baring her neck in submission. “Welcome back, Ignacy.”
“Hi there, sis,” Ignacy said weakly, coughing blood. “Missed you.”
“Me too, little bro.” The wolf hag wriggled out from under the boot and scooped Ignacy into her arms, calling for medics. “Don’t talk, take a nap or something. Everything’s fine.”
“Warlord. The pack is yours.” Impatient One joined them and knelt. Janine was proud of her daughter’s even voice. No hint of familiarity. Never dropped her guard. A true shaman.
“Warlord Janine!” An Ice Fang with the markings of a knight captain bowed courteously. “Are these hordemen your captives? Dear kin, we welcome your return and will assist the wounded with your permission...”
A slash at his helmet stopped the man and prevented his paws from touching Ignacy. Janine wanted nothing more than to strike the fool with full force, to send the bastard through the trees and hear his bones crack. But they were at war, and every soldier mattered. She held back her wrath, merely scratching at the man’s equipment and patting her daughter on the shoulder.
“Never dare to touch my soldiers, Ice Fang. And if you dare to call me or any Wolfkin as kin, I will slaughter you. These hordemen are our allies and will be treated as such.” Janine turned her back on him.
“I honestly thought you were going to enslave us or kill us, khan,” remarked the female raider, wiping the sweat from her brow.
“Drop the khan’s title. Warlord Janine.” She slapped her chest. “I try to be as honest as possible. Wolf Hag Anissa. Assign a scout to look after the wounded. Janine Pack!” She called her soldiers. “As of today, the Ice Fangs are only citizens. Show comradeship as you see fit, but never forget the unprovoked treachery that caused our grievous losses. The shamans were right. I was wrong! Never trust a white-furred. Only sorrow and betrayal await on this path.” She faced the knight-captain. The man gestured for his troops to keep their quiet, awaiting insults or threats. “Traitors. We have a badly wounded sword saint on board. Macarius Voidrunner is his name.” The knight-captain clenched his fist, nodded his thanks and pulled back the side of his dark cloak, ordering the medics to go inside. “We suspect he was poisoned,” Janine said against her will. It infuriated her to have to help the cold-blooded bastards in any way, but it was the right thing to do. “Take utmost care. Lead to your base. Do you have medics from the ranks of Normies there?”
“We don’t have a base, Warlord,” the Ice Fang replied calmly. “More like a mobile HQ. And if you just allow our own medics to…”
“They may treat the guardsmen and the escaped civilians. Even the Hordemen, if they are foolish enough to trust you. But stay away from my tribe for now and forever, traitor.” Janine bared her fangs.
“Warlord,” Soulless One approached and lowered to a knee. “I wasn’t there by your side. I have failed my duty as your bodyguard and await your punishment.”
“Did you save any civilians in the town?” Janine pressed the Taleteller’s edge to the woman’s neck, and the shaman nodded, bleeding her skin. “Then I have nothing but praise for your exemplary service.” She dropped her weapon and embraced the surprised Anissa, Soulless One and Impatient One, trying her best to squash Ignacy. “Any mistakes you thought you had made against me are forgiven. Praise the spirits, we live! Now let’s avenge our fallen and make our enemies rue our salvation. Soulless One! The former slaves speak in a dead language, attend them…”
“It’s not a dead language if they speak it!” Ignacy said through coughing.
“You…” Janine let them go and raised her paw. “Fair point. You’re right.”
She sank her claws under the metal lump on her head and, ignoring the knight-captain’s plea, ripped it off, hearing the crack of her own skin as it was torn away. She blinked through the blood, seeing the world with both eyes, and sniffed, inhaling and taking in unfamiliar scents. Her head pulsated; the pain spread, rippling around her body in waves, but it was a familiar pain, a sign that she was alive. And on the ground.
She crumbled the bloodied gold in her paw and joined her soldiers, obeying Anissa’s orders and helping with the evacuation. She wasn’t well, and her daughter wisely took charge, kicking her mother against a cut on her leg and snapping at her to sit and eat while they worked. Such a display of determination filled Janine’s heart with newfound pride for her gentle princess.
“The pack was in excellent paws, Nissi,” she said quietly, munching on rations.
“Of course it was, Mom. I was in charge.” Anissa grinned, glancing worriedly at her brother. “Bogdan…”
“Gone. My guilt. Next time take my title, Wolf Hag.”
“Would it kill you to be Mom a little longer, Warlord?” Anissa lowered her voice.
“After the war. An entire week. No less, maybe more, and screw what the shamans say. So you better survive and win.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
“Then I expect the same from you, Warlord.”
They fell silent as an Ice Fang medic approached. Green crests adorned the sides of the woman’s field armor, and on her chest was the emblem of a dark blade. She wore a pistol and a dagger on her belt, in obvious violation of international treaties. A medical patch covered part of her chin.
“Your injuries.” The Ice Fang didn’t blink as an arc of dust flew up in the wake of a warning swipe at the ground. “Thanks for the need to clean them, jerk. It wasn’t a request, Warlord.”
“And I wasn’t joking,” Janine told her. “Get lost.”
The field medic rubbed her nose with a gloved paw, frowning. “Listen, I argued about the bullshit ideas of my Sword Saint. And I am ready to tell Sword Saint First to his face that he is an asshole for implementing this plan!” She raised her voice when the knight-captain looked at her. “But I had nothing to do…”
“Lies,” Anissa growled.
“A discreet call to explain the situation. A refusal to obey the clearly illegal order. Was the Blessed Mother’s command unheeded?” Janine pointed at the pistol. “Wise. The Horde shows no mercy to its prisoners.”
“Thank…”
“Would you use it to murder civilians if your Sword Saint ordered it?”
“No, never,” the medic growled. “I’d sooner shoot him.”
“Liar.” Anissa spat.
“I too have lost friends and comrades, you know!” The medic stomped. “You saved our own and helped them escape. That is no way to treat a traitor. None of us wish to harm any of you. You are respected, considered family. I think of you as kin.” She stepped closer. “I am not your enemy, and I swore an oath…”
“I warned you to get lost,” Janine said calmly and got to her feet. She backhanded the woman, landing on her armor to soften the blow, and the medic flew into the captain’s arms.
“Warlord, that wasn’t necessary,” he said.
“Agreed, you should have respected our wishes for once. Hold her steady if you are unable to command your unit.”
The evacuation took seven minutes to complete, and the group hurried to retreat. They had a war to win. The Hode had murdered Bogdan and violated the land in such a way that it was impossible for Janine to heal it. But healing was the prerogative of others, worthier people. Retribution, meanwhile, was her task.