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"Warrior Souls"
Rating: PG-13 Reviews and comments needed! Thanks ;) Eight Dom'ni the Weaponsmaster crawled low along the stone wall that surrounded the Shadows' encampment. He glanced over his shoulder at two of his warriors and directed them with hand signals. They both nodded, faces both eager and resigned at the same time. They knew their orders and would follow them to the death, if needed. Voices came closer to them and they pressed themselves into the wall, tucking themselves as small as possible. Dom'ni listened as the rough laughter and bellowing rose to a crescendo as the Shadows passed them. He got a good look at them: dressed head to toe in black silk, their faces shrouded in masks, with only their eyes visible. A nasty array of weaponry hung prominently on their belts; Dom'ni made a mental catalogue of them. Grappling hooks, knives, throwing projectiles, short swords. An occasional Shadow wore a square-shaped pouch, similar to the one he had given Leen'da. It most likely carried poisons, needles and monofilaments for a stealth attack. That meant that unlike the Aronians, the Shadows had both male and female warriors in their active ranks. Makes sense. Why ignore half of your potential warriors? If Hu'fase allowed it, it could double our forces. Tradition be damned! He shook his head. If that was the case, then Leen'da and Joh'leen would have been first in the ranks, and that was unacceptable to Dom'ni, not with his wife pregnant with his child. He raised himself up and looked over the wall. The Shadows guarded their territory well; it had taken most of his tricks and training to get this far, but their guards patrolled the edge of their camp with a vigilance that made even him cringe. How was he going to get inside? A lone Shadow stopped close to the wall. His hand reached for something on his belt, but didn't find it there. He groaned and shouted to his fellows to continue without him. The others jeered and catcalled him; he only shrugged and turned to go back through the wall's entrance. Just as he went around the corner, a hand snaked around and grabbed the Shadow by the neck. One soft crack and the man's body went limp. “Wait for me here,” Dom'ni ordered his men in a low voice. “If I'm not back before full moonrise, head back towards the General's camp.” “Yes, Weaponsmaster,” they murmured. “Luck be with you.” “And with all of us,” he answered as he finished putting on the Shadow's silk uniform. It was comfortable and easy to move around in. Then he slipped the explosives into the sash at his waist. He put the hood over his head and strolled through the entrance as if he belonged there. He nodded to several groups of patrols as he passed them. They stopped and bowed to him from the waist before going on their way. The Shadow uniform had no insignia, but apparently, the one he had disabled held some kind of command rank, for the others quickly got out of his way. It was relatively easy to find the weapons launcher; it toward over the Shadows' other buildings. As he came closer, the Shadows who were guarding it bowed to him, and one of them approached him. “You've come to inspect the Gods' Hammer,” she said. He only nodded and carefully hid his surprise that the head of the detail was a woman. “Good. We should be all ready for the attack. They won't even know what hit them.” He only chuckled low in his throat and approached the platform. Like the Aronian scout's drawing, it was basically a cylinder with a sharp tip, nestled in a sling, with its long fuse extending out of its base. The platform was mounted on stone wheels, with harness for beasts of burden to transport it. A rectangular box sat at the back of the platform, with an aiming device built into it. “The Hammer is fully prepared,” said the woman. “All it needs is the release, and it will fly true.” Dom'ni only grunted as he ducked under the cylinder itself. He could only feel a grudging respect for the Shadows' engineers; they had firmly tied it to the launcher with straps that could be removed quickly and easily at a moment's notice. The cylinder was made of a cold, smooth material he'd never seen before. He tugged at one of those straps with one hand, as if testing its strength. His other hand reached into his sash and withdrew his explosive. He slipped it between the cylinder and its platform, unseen by anyone. He straightened up and nodded his approval. The woman's eyes crinkled in both relief and amusement. “I'm glad nothing is wrong. We had to construct this very quickly and there were some...accidents along the way. Perhaps you would want to inspect the others before we use them?" Dom'ni only inclined his head and gave her his coldest smirk. She couldn't see his mouth through the mask, but he knew she saw his approval in his eyes. The Shadow's eyes sparkled coldly in reply as she said, “This way.” He smirked again, this time for a different reason. This is almost too easy. I must be doubly on my guard. Dom'ni memorized the layouts of the four launchers. They were arranged in an arc between the Shadows' battle lines and the Aronians', all pointed towards General Hu'fase's stronghold. As he “inspected” and sabotaged each launcher, he listened to the conversation around him. As he worked on the fourth and last launcher, the Shadow woman's words caught his attention. “What an irony, to have their own explosives turned against them. I understand their Weaponsmaster was quite proud of his escapade at the bridge. I'd love to see his face when the stronghold's collapsing all around him, Ja'an.” That brought some quiet laughter. Then a soothing voice reminded her, “Remember, we must take as many of the general's family alive. Our benefactor told us they're special; he wants them. For his generosity, I think it's a simple request.” Another voice chimed in. “One of our spies told us how the general visits his women every night. He has his favorite one and now she's carrying his whelp. What kind of leader would break those bonds of trust for his own satisfaction, Ja'an?” Dom'ni froze, his hand wedged under the platform. The other Shadows murmured agreement, their voices louder this time. “Even more reason to wipe those dishonorable scum from our land,” said the woman again. “They speak of honor, then turn and do otherwise. Disgusting. My mother would've slit my father's throat if she'd caught him doing something like that. Then she'd do worse to the one he was with. And you know...I would probably help her do it.” There was a roar of approval, then the second man said, “Good, Kel'li. You have such fire for one so young. I knew you'd be happier with us than sewing up skin tears and wrapping bruises. A Healer's life was not for you.” “I wanted to do what I could,” the Shadow named Kel'li said, her voice quiet again. “I wanted to bring honor to my family. No offense to you and your Healers, Ja'an, but--” “You do that,” said Ja'an, and Dom'ni could hear the affection in his voice. Obviously, Ja'an and Kel'li were close companions. “You do, and the Gods willing, they will be so proud of you if you fall in combat.” She laughed. “I plan not to fall, but at least I know I've done the best I could.” Dom'ni withdrew his hand and clenched his fingers in his fist. The words were like a brand through his heart: He has his favorite one and now she's carrying his whelp. What kind of leader would break those bonds of trust for his own satisfaction? Hu'fase and Leen'da? He couldn't believe that. To be sure, he ran through the past year in his mind; no, every time the general was in the field, so was he, and the rest of the time, Leen'da was under Joh'leen's watchful eye. If anything had happened, Joh'leen would have been obligated to tell him. And the pride and love in Leen'da's voice when she had told him her surprise. No, this was just another one of the Shadows' lies. One to rattle his nerves-- How would they know to say that particular lie at this particular moment? The unsettling thought brought him up short. He rested his hand lightly at the knife hidden at his side. The woman named Kel'li crawled up next to him, her bright blue eyes bearing into his. “Everything all right for launch?” she asked. At his brusque nod, she breathed a sigh of relief. “We needed to get this in place before tonight's attack. Come, I'm sure your men are ready for your return.” He only nodded again and followed her from under the platform. As he straightened, he caught a strange expression on one of the Shadows' face, a portly one with an friendly look in his eyes. That look was one of regret and sadness. That look stopped him for a minute. And his body reacted without conscious thought. His arm shot out and blocked a knife aimed at his midsection. Kel'li stumbled, off balance, and he pushed Kel'li into the stocky Shadow's arms, causing both to tumble out of the way. Dom'ni took the opening and ran for it. Other Shadows broke in confusion; some saw his uniform and moved out of the way, others joined in the pursuit. Dom'ni leaped over barriers and flew around corners, leaped over a wall and escaped into the woods beyond. He stumbled and fell into a tangle of bushes. The thorns caught and ripped the silk Shadow uniform; he managed to wriggle out of the torn silks. That was when he realized his right hand was covered with blood. A piercing pain radiated from his right hip, and he traced the trickle of blood to its source. There, in his side, was a thin sliver of a needle, no bigger than his little finger. It looked so innocuous, but words from a long-ago time echoed within his mind: Poison. You don't even know you've been hit until it's too late. A woman's weapon. A smile twisted his lips. It appeared that Kel'li the Shadow woman had proved her worth in battle. Another voice in his mind echoed: Either he really wanted his bases covered...or there's another tomb here. Another tomb. Someone buried with Hu'fase. Leen'da? Was the rumor actually true? Were they--? He closed his eyes against another hot wave of pain. He didn't even have the strength to move from where he'd fallen. I didn't even feel myself fall down. I can't even see anymore, I'm burning inside, I can't breathe... He heard hurried footsteps come on either side of him. “Weaponsmaster!” blurted out one of his soldiers. “We saw you running out of the Shadows' camp...did you--” “Yes,” he whispered hoarsely. “They strike tonight...attack the stronghold...four platforms, four of them--” “We'll tell them, Weaponsmaster.” He could hear the tears in the soldier's voice. “Just relax. We'll get help.” “No..time...” Now he was cold, so cold that his teeth chattered. “My wife...the general--” “We'll tell them you died with honor.” Both soldiers were openly weeping now. “We will beat them, Dom'ni. We will do it for you.” “I--” His breath stuck in his throat. He couldn't get the words out; a wave pulled him away before he could. He found himself hurtling through a dark tunnel, filled with stars, completely disoriented, then... He opened his eyes to bright sun, streaming through a window... Bright sun? Where the bloody hell am I? He jerked upwards and nearly fell off the couch he was lying on, and the heavy knitted comforter slithered to the floor. The low table shone with deep cherry highlights and reflected the high shelves all around, shelves filled with real books... Couch? Table? Comforter? Books? I'm in a library? A noise made him whirl around to see a familiar man in the uniform of a steward...in the Royal Navy. The man held a tray with a silver teapot, two cups, and a small server of sugar. “Daniels?” he growled. “I figured we could talk over a cuppa, Lieutenant Commander Reed,” Daniels said. His eyes were darkly sober. “I need your help. This isn't over yet.” |
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