The convoy proceeded to Houstad without further troubles. Screams of hoverbikes often contended with the cracking of trees under the weight of the mobile fortress and the roar of engines. The riders skirted at the outmost edge, occasionally firing their pulse rifles to keep the soldiers on edge. A joint unit of hunters and scouts, led by a Dewglitter, deterred any attempts to close in. Anissa itched to lead a punitive expedition, but Dragena forbade it.
Heavy, square-shaped APCs roamed seemingly mindlessly in the distance, carrying potent shield generators to block the Reclaimers’ shelling. The drivers often retreated under the hissing cover of the shimmering domes, streaking back through receding explosions. Janine understood that they were trying to lure the soldiers away from the convoy.
The bait wasn’t taken, and neither side suffered casualties, and soon the riders dropped the pursuit as dawn broke and the convoy passed through the empty farmlands. Harvests of potatoes, cabbages, tomatoes, cucumbers, and more vegetables, abundant enough to feed the Outer Lands for no less than a year, lay unattended and forgotten in the fields.
Several Wolfkins wept, mourning the loss of such a bounty as the vehicles reduced it to mush. Janine assigned five mixed packs, groups of Normies under the protection of shamans, to gather what they could without slowing down. They brought aboard several tons of food and over a hundred head of abandoned cattle, a pittance compared to what was left, but the accomplishment brightened the mood.
Four sprawling defensive lines encircled Houstad, with the first almost clinging to the city’s walls. Normies of the Third weren’t lazing around, and they already finished setting minefields and preparing an extensive tunnel system to safely evacuate the outer circles. Sniper teams, armed with hunters’ long-range weapons and exotic rifles donated by the black market, waited for their hour in skyscrapers and at the battlements; anti-aircraft installations and heavy artillery soon opened fire, covering the horizon in dark clouds.
“They are impatient,” Bertruda noted as the shells flew atop their heads and slammed into the showing APCs. Their shield spewed sparks, and the enemy hastily retreated.
They stood atop the Mountaintops’ behemoth. Martyshkina and Bertruda stood bareheaded and clad in full combat gear. Elegance rose, saluting the defenders on the ground. Janine, uncomfortable in an officer coat, was pushed between them, and Alpha, the reason for such an unusual gathering, loomed at their backs, critically examining the defenses.
The strongest warlord decided to parade Janine around like a trophy, celebrating her escape from the Gilded Horde’s clutches. She waved to the familiar and unfamiliar faces of the troops, not quite understanding why this was worth celebrating. The Brood and the deserters had been instrumental in their escape. They were the ones to be praised.
“Martyshkina,” Alpha screeched.
“They began driving back as soon as the first shells landed, Alpha,” Martyshkina replied, perching on the railing like a gargoyle. Her eyes narrowed, piercing the veil of floating soil. “Fifty. Seventy. Over a hundred transports are lining up, unloading infantry. The riders have shown up, too.”
“Are they planning an assault already?” Bertruda clenched Elegance tighter.
“No,” Alpha replied, and a projectile flew in from the west, crashing into the energy shield around the front line. A sickly green mist covered the field, but the impact of the missile fizzled out. “It is tenderizing.”
“They are testing our capabilities,” Martyshkina explained to Bertruda, jumping off the rail. “Though I’m surprised they didn’t hurl their troops into the meat grinder like before.”
“I hazard a guess that whoever is in charge is planning to deny us the opportunity to inflict casualties on them,” Bertruda said. “A siege it is, then?”
“No,” Janine said. She felt it in her bones, a kind of animal dread at the prospect of facing an opponent who dwarfed her in everything. Flames flickered at the Horde’s position, coalescing in the fiery figure, and Drozna appeared, but they weren’t the source of her worry. A demigod was coming. “Whatever it’ll be, there will be no siege.”
High bastions, built in the distant years, surrounded the inner parts of Houstad, while defenders leveled the outskirts in preparation for battle. Gates to match those on the border stood proudly at strategic points, positioned so that an invader would have to walk up to reach them, or near the river, utilizing the natural moat for an added layer of protection. Soldiers waited in bunkers and pillboxes, while tanks moved aside, inviting the convoy into the heart of safety.
And what a sight the defenders were! Howls erupted from outside and inside as the packs greeted their returning kin. Mercenary companies poured in from the occupied regions, hastily signing contracts and flying the state colors. The personal symbol of the Dynast, a fist grasping the planet, could be seen in several places, awarded to the most decorated and respected units. Criminals, former members of the Assassin’s Guild, war chiefs, tyrants, and conquered foes turned citizens joined the defense, some arrogantly scowling at the fearful volunteers or greenhorns, others busy boosting morale with boastful and exaggerated tales of heroism, and a few drooling at the prospect of carnage.
Thousands upon thousands of the defenders pressed weapons to their chests in unison. The Provincial Guard and the Third joined in, merging into a single gestalt army, their equipment painted green or sand. The volunteers answered the call, manning the undermanned positions, led by the Third and the mercenary instructors.
She noticed Reaper, the best cleaner of the former Assassin’s Guild. The heavily augmented man’s silver skin shone. He briefly nodded to the warlords and walked over the battlements, searching for any potentially overlooked entrances.
“Heeeeey!” Martyshkina yelled, and Janine and Bertruda almost jumped. The warlord ignored it and pointed at the wall. “Lookie there! My sweeties!”
“Sweeties?” Janine asked, concerned.
Long-range artillery, hauled all the way from the Wall, was placed on the bastions. They had a shape of upright rectangles on triangular feet, and their main cannons pointed at the enemy position, while radomes on their stern transmitted field maps to the crews’ displays. On their hulls were emblems of women in seductive poses, white birds with black heads, tallies of taken lives, and other symbols. Bertruda and Janine cringed at the sight of a painted Ice Fang and a Wolfkin females with their tongues stuck out, raising a cannon together.
“If this brigade chose its emblem because of you, I’m clawing you, Martyshkina,” Alpha rumbled, maintaining the stony expression.
“What? Eh, no idea if that was me.” The warlord shrugged. “Ah, my beauties. The effective range of one hundred and twenty kilometers can be placed on any surface, even on the slope; their feet are capable of gluing and evenly distributing the turret’s mass to prevent a fall…” Janine coughed, and Martyshkina stopped babbling. “You know, when I was a short-nosed brat under Terrific and I first saw them in action, I dreamed of growing up and wielding them like my revolvers, one in each paw! Probably sounds stupid, but, eh.”
“We all shared our own unrealistic dreams in our youth,” Bertruda said.
“But there is no Wolfkin alive capable of wielding those things,” Janine remarked. “Not even Alpha would be able to do it.”
“Want to bet?” Alpha asked, and Martyshkina laughed at her blushing friend.
“Shut your mouth and get inside already!” A roar interrupted her, and Martyshkina glanced down.
“Wowzie!” she cheered, waving her arm like a young girl at the Malformed near the gates. “If it isn’t Slaughterer! Glad to see yer bloated mess coming around at last! How’s life?”
“Was way better until I heard your noisy squealing again!” Slaughterer reeled on seven elephantine legs. “Shut up before I tear out your tongue!”
Janine raised her brow. Slaughterer had been Martyshkina’s first mark as a warlord. A cruel, merciless, and rather direct tyrant, he ruled his tribe with an iron talon. The man lacked a torso; his oversized, almost ballooning pink head was mounted on seven legs, two of which were crowned by hooked claws. Fourteen eyes, grown without sense or reason on his veined head, stared at the grinning warlord.
His and Martyshkina’s duel lasted for a good portion of the day, and by the end of it, both had their own share of serious wounds and could barely stand. But it was Marty who sat on the Malformed’s forehead, holding a claw to his eye, and the man obliged the promise by surrendering his tribe without further war.
“You will address the superior officer with respect!” an officer from the Third snapped at the Malformed.
“My apologies, sir!” Slaughterer pressed a tentacle to his head in a mocking greeting. “Please seal thy speaking orifice, Ma’am! Otherwise, I will be compelled to dine upon thy fleshly organ, Ma’am!”
“Feisty, aren’t we? Ah, I am so proud to see you integrating into society and picking up new vocabulary so well. The last time we met, you could barely growl,” teased Martyshkina and wiped a fake tear from the corner of her eye. “Don’t press a hand to an empty head, soldier!”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” The Malformed tried his best to stop swaying his ever-moving head and stand at attention. “I dare say if you test me again, the result won’t be the same!”
“Save this energy for the Horde, and I promise to give you an hour of my time for a rematch after the victory!” The warlord clenched her paws above her head to the cheers of the soldiers.
“It’s a deal, Ma’am! Hundreds shall perish in my belly in your name!” Slaughterer smirked bloodthirstily, licking his lips with a broad purple tongue. The officer near him kept looking at him, and the former tyrant sighed. “Enemies! I’ll only eat the state’s enemies, sir!”
“Cannibalism is forbidden, volunteer. Eviscerate them instead,” said the officer.
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Houstad itself, this never-sleeping megapolis teeming with life, had become a tome city, eerily reminiscent of the closed-for-conservation capital of Techno-Queen. Cars were gone from its streets, either taken away or thrown on the sidewalks by the defenders. Jaquan and Dragena’s headquarters had performed a feat of logistics rarely seen before, evacuating most of the population. Several elderly citizens marched out to welcome the soldiers back and were immediately escorted to the trucks by the civilian workers.
The Third arrived at the joyous and thriving population center. Now the wind blew through the streets, occasionally stirring up trash and the bodies of the blinded and hanged marauders. Most hospitals either relocated underground to treat the soldiers or were evacuated. The power plants were shut down, but according to reports from the far east of the city, a skeleton medical crew remained in an vacated Iterna private hospital, keeping patients in critical condition and underdeveloped infants alive. These people knew the risks, yet they refused to abandon the city.
No children were running on the sidewalks, no couples chattered in cafes, no rowdy crowds argued over a winning match, the policemen no longer watched for peace, and soldiers replaced them, hunting for thieves or marauders. The smells of bread and freshly cooked meat and exotic drinks disappeared alongside the stench of cars’ exhaust fumes, and Janine caught herself even missing the loud advertisements on the screens.
Houstad, the way she had briefly experienced it, was truly dead, and the battle didn’t even reach it yet.
Half-manned defensive positions were set up in Houstad, mostly barricades and pillboxes, with the intention of letting the soldiers take one stand after another against the invaders, making Janine wonder if the Horde wouldn’t use them against them once they broke through. She trusted in Dragena’s wisdom, but the host of their foes was far too large.
Ygrite, wearing a bright red cloak over her armor, stepped out of an alley, greeted the patrols, and leapt on the mobile fortress, nimbly climbing to the top. She shook hands with Martyshkina, bowed to Alpha, and ignored Bertruda. Then she grabbed Janine in a bear hug, tickling the warlord’s chest lightly with the fangs growing on her strained neck.
“I am so sorry for your loss, sister.” They headbutted in cordiality. “Don’t you dare to worry. Little Marco will pull it through, got it?”
“Of course he will! And thank you, sister,” Janine started, but Ygrite had already released her and moved to a figure stepping through the opening doors.
A slit appeared in her lower jaw, and the warlord’s mouth opened in three, exposing countless fangs filling every spot in her mouth and throat. The maw closed in on the standing-still Kalaisa and stopped just short of the woman as Janine’s paw firmly landed at Ygrite’s belly.
“I submit, Warlord! The pack is yours again,” Kalaisa said quickly, and the maw closed with a snap. Ygrite smiled and patted the wolf hag, sniffing her from head to toe.
“You still reek of poison. I expected better of you, girl.”
“It was an injury for a life, Warlord!” Kalaisa said defensively.
“You traded one for one in combat!” Ygrite took her by the shoulders. “No matter. Foibles happen, and you learned. No need to dwell on it. Able to lead?”
“I…” Kalaisa licked her lips and hung her head, moving the side of her jacket to show the bandaged wound. “No. My body is strong, but my mind wavers. I can’t properly lead a pack into battle. But I can fight as a soldier, and my sister is a fine wolf hag’s replacement!”
“Well, hasn‘t someone matured, eh?” Ygrite said. “Maybe I should send you away more often!”
“Maybe you should teach your pack better so the others don’t have to pick up your slack,” Alpha said.
“Were there any problems while we were away?” Janine asked.
“Not much.” Ygrite stretched. “People wanted to fight, but Jaquan and Jacomie were adamant about permitting only those with combat training into the force. Farmer, builder, and lab… lab…”
“Labor,” Bertruda prompted.
“Yeah, those guys. So many queer organizations here, sisters.” Ygrite shook her head. “The unions threw a hissy fit, wanting to stage a strike over their desire to stay and fight for their city. Freaks. That’s why they are feeding us.”
“Respect, Ygrite,” Janine interrupted her.
“Sure, sure. Schalk buttered them up, solved the mess peacefully, and a bunch of them joined up to help the medics and workers, and the rest buzzed off as they should.” Ygrite nodded eastward. “Should be in Stormfiend or close to it by now. We opened the prisons, scared the minors into obeying and not causing a stir as they got shipped out to other cities, and enlisted those with lesser offenses into helping.”
“Without Alpha around?” Martyshkina smiled at the predatory gaze. “Can’t imagine the New Breeds or powered freaks doing so voluntarily.”
“They didn’t,” Ygrite confirmed. “I employed my personal charm.” She cracked her fingers. “Broke the limbs of the ruffians and crazies, and the rest quickly fell in line. Don’t worry, Janine, I didn’t kill anyone and even persuaded a dozen or so into joining. Like that chick.”
They faced the direction of her finger and saw a yellowish, barely visible bolt of lightning wrap around a skyscraper, moving faster than a bullet. The energy moved higher and higher, its trail fading, and soon its forked top slipped into the open window of the thirtieth floor, transforming into a panting girl with a weird, half-shaven haircut. She dropped the large bags full of warm rations to the snipers and dropped at her ass, breathing heavily and declining water. Around her neck was a brown explosive collar with a tracking device, a model often used by the slavers.
“Saw me neutralizing another female and quickly changed her tune, pleading to join in,” Ygrite explained and pressed paws to her snout before roaring at the top of her lungs. “Oy! The Abyss are you still doing here?! I told you to get your ass in the trucks!”
“I can help, geriatric!” The girl jumped back to her feet, yellow streaks racing up and down the zipper of her jacket. “And you, like, promised me a job, Ygrite!”
“It’s warlord, you asshole! You’ll get your job when you’re sixteen; until then, be productive. Do school or something! Off to the trucks and away from Houstad! And stop grinning, you animals!” she yelled at the snipers. The warlord took a remote control, pressed a button, and the collar fell from the girl’s neck. “Nice lass. Needed a person to give a shit about her, and she seemed to be improving. Anyway, we also got a punitive battalion from the convicts who asked to join the defense. Dragena equipped them with simple exoskeletons and machine guns. With any luck, they’ll soak up bullets for us.”
“Or they’ll shoot our own troops,” Kalaisa said.
“Girl, we weren’t born yesterday, okay?” Ygrite patted her on the head. “Dragena gave them the same chances of survival as the rest of our troops. No foul, although if it were up to me, I wouldn’t be so kind.”
“Or farsighted,” Alpha said. “No wonder your pack is a mess.”
“Hey, I got a superpowered convict that wants to join me! Can’t say the same about your pack, sister.”
“Yes, you can’t, sister. Trash gravitates to trash.”
“Alpha.” Janine swallowed. “Kalaisa saved my son.”
The heavy look turned to her, and Alpha craned her neck to examine two warlords and a sword saint ready to confront her. Her arms didn’t move, and Alpha glanced at Kalaisa briefly before shrugging.
“There could be rough gems anywhere. Right, Ygrite?”
“Your truth, Alpha,” Ygrite quickly answered, obeying the flogging intonation of the sentence.
“Question.” Bertruda exhaled, and Alpha nodded. “What about the research facilities?”
“Oh, we raided those,” Ygrite said eagerly. “You should’ve heard Till Ingo’s wailings about ‘barbarian appropriation’ of his precious projects. We stripped the places clean except for several of his immediate projects and sent everything we could into Stormfiend under the supervision of your kin.”
“Immediate?” Janine’s ears perked. “Are you telling me that bastard is still here?! Why didn’t you break his everything and package him? Ingo is far too valuable to die here!”
“Yeah, let’s put slave collars on the stupid minors and terrify them, but ignore the people who actually matter for everyone’s survival,” Martyshkina agreed.
“I wanted to.” Ygrite lifted her paws, stepping back from the advancing sisters. “But his bodyguard is hitting really hard…”
“How do you still exist, sister?” Alpha asked. “Never the matter. Until later.”
The mobile fortress drove up to the emptied airport and disgorged its passengers. The civilians weren’t given time to stretch their legs, and officers rushed to form them up and escort them through the eastern gates, where several protected convoys prepared to move them. Under Dragena’s supervision and with assistance from the local forces, the massive undertaking went smoothly and swiftly.
Aside from the Inevitable, which dominated much of the airport, several other aircraft landed here. Elegant and sleek VTOLs from Iterna waited for their own refugees brought in by the convoy, and a group of problemsolvers, genetically enhanced soldiers, formed a line, all dressed in similar blue, deceptively thin-looking body armor. Their serene faces peered through the visors of their helmets, free of any imperfection, let alone a scar.
“I’d thought you’d already be in Iterna,” Ygrite laughed, extending a paw to Jacob. Immediately, a problemsolver dashed to them, not touching the warlord’s paw, but his helmet scanned it for dangers. “Don’t worry, kiddo, these are for enemies only.”
“And miss a reportage of a lifetime? No.” Jacob bravely shook her paw; two orb drones buzzing in the air quickly filmed it. “Say, if you have…”
“No,” Janine interrupted him. “Jacob, I know this is unexpected and perhaps rude, and I want to emphasize that I address you as a fellow human, not as a warlord or an official.” She pursed her lips, unsure how to proceed. “We have families with infants with us. If that is not too much to ask, could your birds take at least several to safety?”
“The decision is not up to me.” Jacob’s face darkened. “But I’ll ask the captain. It should not violate the Noninterference Act.”
“Thank you.”
“What…” Alpha interrupted, her lips curling to bare fangs, her eyes fixed on a single VTOL standing to the west of the crawler. “Are you mad to bring that into our country, Iternian?”
“I am not sure I understand…”
“Don’t play coy with me, Iternian!” Alpha glowed, taking a step and positioning herself before the warlords. She paid no attention to the Problemsolver’s hand moving to his rifle. “We have treaties. That should’ve never set foot in our lands. Is…” A communicator buzzed in her ear, and Alpha tilted her head, pressing her ear to her shoulder, denying Janine the chance to hear. The strongest warlord growled but eased her tension. “Fair enough, sir. Sorry, Jacob, the higher-ups are aware.”
“Aware of what?” The reporter turned to the VTOL. “You said foot. It is a person, then? Who is there?”
“Nothing,” Alpha said, monitoring the transport. “Nothing that isn’t permitted.”
Martyshkina wanted to inquire more, but Janine grabbed her friend’s head and forced her to look at a blackened bird of the night. The Oathtakers’ plane needed a full runway to land or take off, but it was still a feat of their engineering ingenuity and the first perfectly functioning manned aircraft produced by the Reclamation Army’s rivals since the Extinction.
A figure easily matching Ravager’s size stood beside it, covered in power armor of an utterly dark color. Lenses resembling twin pools of molten metal watched the surroundings, and maglocks clamped a cleaver the length of a truck to its back. For a second, the lack of smooth curves caused Janine to mistake the newcomer for Dominator, the strongest New Breed of the far nation, but then she calmed herself, recognizing the helmet stylizing after a dragon head and the lack of medals or honor symbols. Ur-Champion. Servant to the Big Three, a warrior of rare physical prowess that eclipsed even Alpha in a pure slugfest. A warlord’s slayer, a butcher of twenty-five shamans, and a merciless bane of the Order.
Bertruda’s paw instinctively began pointing Elegance at the man, and Martyshkina prepared to take her revolver. Janine elbowed both women at the backs of their heads and twirled a finger around her temple.
Sagas would’ve been sung about the one who would’ve felled that Malformed and the blood price called for his head, but he wasn’t an enemy. Even prior to the peace, Ur-Champion walked into the Reclaimers’ lands, returning lost cubs taken captive by mistake as thanks for the Wolfkins’ rescue of his own citizens. On that day, the blood debt had disappeared, and the Tribe gained a grudging respect for his tenacity in the face of Alpha’s claws.
Wolfkins, shamans, wolf hags, and Ice Fangs glared at the man longingly, and Kalaisa even drooled, imagining the glory earned through defeating him. Alpha gave the man a quick nod and shook her head when he pointed to the cleaver, declining the offer to a bout to the disappointed gasps of every Wolfkin and the Normies’ surprised glances. Jacob clicked his tongue, watching the VTOL alongside Alpha, while Janine’s eyes were on the small figure beside the giant’s leg, a figure that looked like a starving cub protected by a fierce mother.
Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, Janine’s eyes widened, and she forcefully craned Marty’s head, briefly overpowering her friend despite the support Marty’s suit gave her. She heard the gasp, and the woman’s paws twitched, and her nose sniffed, trying to catch the scent of a person not carrying any…
“Lyudochka!” Janine and Martyshkina cried out, grinning wildly as the metal legs ran towards them.