Sword and Shadow (18 page)

One might expect something that large to be ponderous, but the valkyrie was anything but. Its movements were quick and sure, and it met Morrigan’s charge with an outstretched arm, the blade of her rapier skittering across its thick-skinned forearm as its anvil-sized fist smashed her from her feet.

Extending her arm, Val projected a lance of telekinetic force, focused as tightly as she could, directly into the back of the valkyrie’s head. She poured everything she had into that single blast, and felt the world spin around her as she struggled to remain conscious. Tiny sparkles danced before her eyes against a sea of black but she managed to claw her way back to awareness, though her head pounded as though a thousand dwarven hammers were beating against her brain.

Raven arrived just in time to see the valkyrie fall, its head a ruin of scarlet, white, and gray. He rushed to Val, who swayed on her knees, eyes clenched tightly closed. He caught her as she started to topple and she opened her eyes just far enough to gaze up at him. “I tried,” she murmured. “I didn’t have anything more—”

“You did great,” he replied, still not sure what had happened. The valkyrie, however, was undeniably dead.

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Sword and Shadow

Chapter Twenty-two

“She came very close to killing herself,” Morrigan told Raven on the third night after the death of the valkyrie. “And it probably wasn’t from lack of trying.”

They stood outside the tent where Val had spent the last three days nearly comatose, surfacing only on occasion to stagger outside and heed the call of nature or, all too infrequently, to eat a few bites.

He gave a deep sigh. “Is she going to be okay?”

Morrigan started to nod, then shrugged instead. “How the hell do I know? I’m not a healer. I
think
so, but I’m not sure what the long term repercussions of this sort of energy drain
are.
”

Raven nodded, feeling a bit sick despite the fact that he shouldn’t even be able to. He was terribly worried about Val and this half-life within which she was currently trapped. He hoped she came out of it soon. He was starting to feel frantic, and didn’t like it.

Thankfully the hybrids had taken the valkyrie’s death as some sort of sign, and had seemingly retired to another nearby island to regroup. It wouldn’t last for long, more than likely, but if it lasted a few days it would be a good thing. If they came back and wanted blood, he would have preferred Val be on her feet. As things stood, if she wasn’t up by a couple of hours before dawn, he’d be taking her back to the
Rakehell.

She’d be a hell of a lot safer there than she was here.

He mentioned this notion to Morrigan, who glanced back at the tent and nodded. “Probably a good idea. You’ll be happy to know the hybrids seem to be digging in—they sure as hell don’t look like they’re going to come screaming up on us out of the blue.”

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He nodded again. Her crows had proved to be very handy in that regard. Arial surveillance was a beautiful thing, particularly here on a world where they’d never heard of it. If his plan went forward the way he intended, the crows would be invaluable, assuming that he could trust Morrigan to go along with it. Then again, he’d been left with the impression she loathed the Church as much as he did, and would be happy to help out.

He needed to talk to her about it but, oddly enough, felt a little hesitant about broaching the subject. Maybe he was just conflicted at the moment, filled with the urge to make sure Val remained safe. If they ended up in an overt war against the Church, maybe none of them would be safe.

Except Morrigan, perhaps. Immortals were even harder to kill than vampires, most particularly since they didn’t explode when sunlight hit them.

He jerked his gaze toward the tent as a tiny moan escaped it and he rushed to the flap to peer inside. Val was struggling to sit up, looking dazed and confused. “Raven?”

He crawled into the tent and took her hand as she blinked blearily at him. “Everything’s good,” he told her. He wanted to yell at her for taking the risk she had, but figured that could wait. Right now he just wanted to make sure she was all right.

Her gaze was cloudy, her grasp a little feeble, but he could see her eyes regaining focus as she looked at him. “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“And the valkyrie?”

“You exploded its head.” He paused a second, then, “Morrigan says you could have killed yourself doing it.”

She nodded slowly, then winced. “I have
such
a headache.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised. You hungry? I think Morrigan has a stew going out there.”

“More thirsty than hungry.”

He flashed back out of the tent, snagged a canteen out of Morrigan’s hand just as she was taking a drink, and shimmered back into existence 160

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in front of Val an instant later. He passed her the canteen and watched with a small smile as she drained, then handed it back. “I suppose you need to visit the bushes now…?”

She nodded, then winced again. “You would not
believe
how badly I need to pee.”

Raven and Morrigan strode out of the darkness into the hybrid camp, neither showing the slightest hint of trepidation as the gazes of the assembled beast-men fell upon them. When they entered, there were only about twenty gathered around the large fire set in the midst of a ring of tents. One, a tiger hybrid of truly massive proportions, stepped forward, teeth bared in a silent snarl. “You destroyed the worldgates,” he said, not so much angrily as in a straight-forward, matter-of-fact manner.

Raven shrugged, and nodded. “I thought it was the best strategy to take.”

One of the others, shorter, but twice again as wide in the shoulders, stepped forward, its wolverine’s face twisted into an expression of pure rage. “We ought to kill you both,” he growled.

“You could try,” Morrigan replied with a deceptively sweet smile. “It would be a painful lesson, that’s for sure.”

The wolverine hybrid started to surge forward, but ran into the tiger’s extended arm. “No,” he said. “They’re here to talk, not fight. I want to hear what they have to say.”

“That’s a wise move,” Morrigan said.

Raven shot her a glower. The last thing they needed was to needle these guys past the point of tolerance. He knew she could be a sarcastic bitch, but this was one time it wasn’t going to fly. “That’s what we’re here for,” he told the tiger. “My name is Raven. This is Morrigan. We want to talk.”

“They call me Tuck. This is Claw.”

“Claw the wolverine?” Morrigan chuckled. “And Tuck the Tiger? Too rich.”

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“Would you shut up?” Raven hissed. “You keep running your mouth, you’re going to piss them off.” He turned back to the tiger and nodded.

“We’re here to talk.”

“Which one of you killed the valkyrie?” Tuck asked out of the blue.

“Neither, actually, though either of us might have,” Morrigan answered quickly, before Raven could get a word in edgewise.

“They’re not easy to kill,” the wolverine admitted grudgingly. “It takes a real warrior.”

“Well, the one thing you can say about fang-boy here is that he’s tough as nails,” Morrigan said with a sly smile.

“Fang boy?” Raven shook his head at her choice of appellations, but he couldn’t quite suppress a smile. Morrigan was irrepressible. She’d probably laugh and spit in the face of death while whistling merrily.

There was something to be said for it, even if it could be aggravating at times.

“My first impulse was to thank you,” Tuck told them. “You have no idea what it’s like to live under one’s thumb.”

“I’d have killed it a
long
time ago,” Morrigan responded.

Claw was staring at the tiger with an unreadable expression, but something told Raven he wasn’t happy with what he was hearing.
Tough,
Raven decided. He had the distinct impression that Tuck was going to be fairly easy to reason with—he harbored no love for his masters.

Pretty much the result he’d been hoping for, but actually more than he’d anticipated. He just hoped that the whole thing didn’t prompt a revolt in their ranks. Tuck seemed to be the leader, but that could change pretty quickly if enough of the others decided they didn’t like him treating with the enemy.

The rest of the crowd around the fire was watching with interest, but no one except Claw seemed inclined to offer up any dialogue. This suggested that Claw was probably second in command, or at least an equally strong leader in his own right. Raven wasn’t sure how their internal politics worked. If nothing else it would be something to learn about in the days to come.

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If things didn’t explode, that was. At the moment he was satisfied by the way things were going.

“Can I talk to you in private for a moment?” Claw asked Tuck.

The tiger shook his head in a distinctly human gesture. “I’m not interested in debating anything, Claw. To tell you the truth, this is an opportunity and I plan to make the most of it.”

This admission provoked a startled murmur among those observing the exchange. Raven watched them carefully, certain that a couple of the discussions that erupted were likely to devolve into physical disputes.

But Tuck whirled on them, claw-tipped forefinger stabbing into their midst. “You cannot tell me that you enjoy being slaves!” he roared. “Make no mistake, that’s what we are!”

Claw was visibly restraining himself from leaping at Tuck’s unprotected back. Raven shook his head. “I wouldn’t,” he warned softly.

All this managed to accomplish was to turn the wolverine’s malevolent intent upon them.

Morrigan shook her head. “Not on your best day,” she drawled quietly, giving the wolverine hybrid the evil eye.

He blinked in momentary puzzlement, obviously thinking they couldn’t really pose a threat to his fearsome claws and teeth, not to mention the large axe strapped to his back Raven hadn’t noticed until that instant. The harness he wore was rather cleverly camouflaged to match his pelt and happened to be the only thing resembling clothing he wore.

“You’re mighty bold,” he said, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Tuck, who was still orating at his fellow hybrids.

Raven made a quick note of the fact that nearly all of them were feline in origin, obviously designed from various types of big cat, except for a few notable exceptions such as Claw. He saw no wolves or bears among them, a fact he found somewhat curious. If things didn’t go to pieces in the next few minutes, he might ask Tuck about it.

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think you’re catching on, my furred friend,” she said pleasantly. “We’re bold because we have reason to be.”

Raven didn’t like what he was seeing in the eyes of those Tuck was addressing. He had the distinct feeling it had nothing to do with any loyalty to the Cen, but more a matter of not trusting non-hybrids to be particularly concerned with protecting their interests.

Had the situation been any less tense, Raven might have laughed aloud. The Cen had made their slaves
too
well—they needed sentient creatures able to adapt to changing circumstances, able to make judgment calls on their own initiative, but that came with an equal likelihood of them learning to consider themselves ultimately worthy of determining their own fates.

Arrogance was the Cen’s primary weakness. They didn’t seem to be able to grasp that their slaves might develop their own perspective on things and act according to principles that didn’t mesh with their creators.

He hadn’t met a Cen himself, nor did he know anyone who had. They were reclusive and rarely, if ever, left their home world or the crèche worlds on which they bred and raised their hybrid servants. He’d dearly love the opportunity to question one though. Had they no dissidents?

Was every Cen a believer? Could they ever be reasoned with?

He’d probably never get the opportunity to ask, though he’d give half his amassed fortune for the chance. “Stop antagonizing him,” he hissed at Morrigan. “We do
not
want to get into a fight here.”

She actually looked a little abashed and nodded. “Sorry. Guess he’s just rubbing me the wrong way.”

He gave her a hard stare, then shrugged inwardly. She
was
who she was, after all. Did he expect her to become all sweetness and light just because they were working together? She was an abrasive bitch and liked it that way.

Claw was twitching in a way that put his nerves on edge. Raven watched as a tremor seemed to ride up his legs and his torso as his thick, dark-palmed hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. He winced.

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He’d seen the creature’s talons, and knew they were digging into his palms about now.

He wanted to attack so badly he was having trouble restraining himself. If the end result didn’t have the potential to be so explosive, it might even have been intriguing to watch. As it was, Raven scrambled for something to say to defuse the wolverine.

His head snapped up as Tuck knocked another one of the cats—this one a black leopard—to the ground with a single blow. His voice rose in a threatening roar. “We will at least listen to what they have to say!”

The sudden violence pushed Claw over the edge. He uttered a low growl and charged them. Morrigan, looking almost bored, flexed her fingers and launched a spell that bound the wolverine and held him a few feet off the ground. “We’ll have none of that,” she said, walking forward and patting the creature’s furry cheek. Claw snapped at her fingers, his eyes flooded with rage.

Raven shook his head at her and glanced back toward the others.

Silence had fallen and they were all looking at the three of them now. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Then one of the weasels snickered. “I’d give
anything
to know how you did that,” he said amidst a barking laugh. Or at least, Raven
thought
it was a he; it was hard to tell with some of them

And just like that the tension seemed to drain from everyone. Raven felt nearly giddy from the relief. “Are we ready to talk now?” he asked Tuck as he approached.

The tiger nodded. “We’re ready. But you’d better make it good.”

Cerberus lifted his head and let out a low, rumbling growl, bringing Val to her feet. Shakily, she had to admit, but at least she could stand.

She held her rapier in front of her, fingers wrapped around the hilt, her gaze stabbing into the darkness. “What’s out there, boy?”

He’d been laying several feet away, deliberately facing away from the small fire she’d built to keep herself warm in the chill hours before dawn.

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the whole fire-lighting experience extremely frustrating, but she’d finally gotten it going well enough to heat up the rabbit stew Morrigan had left for her.