Warden: A Novel (23 page)

Barent grabbed Tana’s arm and they ran.

They used their pistols to carve out a clear path ahead of them as they pushed toward the outskirts of the camp, skating around mobs of warriors from both sides of the conflict as the two factions struggled to get an upper hand. Both groups were trying to build that elusive and non-quantifiable wave of momentum that often heralded victory. But so far, there was only unimaginable chaos and death.

Barent and Tana broke through the last line of tents and emerged in the open area between the encampment and the ship, almost at the exact same spot where they’d met with Lusani the day before. The Exiles were all bogged down in the camp now, engaged in their bloody struggle against the Olin defenders, so the area surrounding it was entirely deserted.

A few of their pursuers had been drawn away by the Olin as they forced their way through the camp, but enough still remained on their heels to overwhelm Barent and Tana completely—despite their greater firepower. But now that they were standing in the open, they had clear shots at the Exiles rushing out from the camp behind them.

“Aim for their faces,” Barent yelled. “It’s the only way to drop them fast enough.”

He knew that targeting a smaller area would mean more missed shots, but torso hits simply weren’t working; not fast enough, anyway. But Barent wasn’t overly concerned about the greater difficulty; he understood his own skill with the pistol, and was learning to appreciate Tana’s as well. Her aim was good, exceptional even, and Barent was relieved to see the enemy falling in far greater numbers than before. He realized that his strategy was working.

Off to the side, he saw the giant airlock doors to the ship open up, and then Olin warriors began pouring out of it by the hundreds to join the battle. Some were woefully underdressed for the conditions outside but they were all well armed, and their frenzied screams marked the Olin eager for battle.

The reinforcements attracted the attention of the Exiles pursuing Barent and Tana, drawing a few of them away, and that reduced the number of people trying to kill them to a much more manageable level. In between targets, Barent now had a chance to survey the battle, and he saw thousands of warriors involved on both sides of the conflict. It was as bloody an encounter as he’d ever seen anywhere—even more so, since the combatants were using blades instead of guns.

Although the fighters appeared evenly matched, Barent estimated there were slightly more Exiles than Olin, giving them a temporary advantage. But with reinforcements flooding out from the ship now, he thought it was just a matter of time before the Olin were victorious. At least he hoped so. But then Barent heard someone yelling out an alarm from behind him, and turned around to see what all the commotion was about.

And every shred of hope he had vanished.

“Barent,” Tana said calmly.

“I see them,” he replied.

They dispatched the last of their pursuers, and then turned to watch the impossibly long and unbroken line of Exile horsemen approaching the camp. Barent couldn’t begin to guess how many were out there, charging across the open plain, but he knew it was more than enough to wipe out the Olin completely.

“There you are!”

They turned back to see Lusani coming from the direction of the camp. She had Barent’s plasma rifle cradled in her arms, and two Olin guards trailing in her wake—their drawn blades coated in blood.

“It looks like the Exiles have finally united against us,” she said. “They haven’t attacked the ship since before my father’s time.”

Lusani shook her head as she looked out at the battle—unable to comprehend the extraordinary level of carnage taking place in the camp. But there was no denying the gruesome scene before her, no matter how hard Lusani tried to wish it away.

“I’ve never seen so many of them gathered together in one place before,” she said. “This is why that large group of Exiles we spotted on the way back from the hunt had assembled; they were preparing for
this
.”

Her gaze drifted down to the snow and her voice softened. “This is my fault. I should have put it all together before now. I should have known.”

“Can you escape?” Tana asked.

Lusani’s head snapped back up and there was fire in her eyes. “And go where, little girl. Take a good look around. If we lose the ship, it’s over. The Olin will be annihilated.”

“The rumors you heard were true,” Barent said. “A single Exile
has
taken control of the tribes. And from what you told me about their society, he probably killed all of the other chieftains to consolidate his power.”

“They call their leaders, Alphas,” Lusani said. “And the Exile who commands this army must now be Alpha to them all.”

For the first time, Barent heard Lusani’s age in her voice—each of her words weighed down by decades of conflict. He also detected the slight hint of desperation.

“Lusani!” a voice called out, rising loudly above the sounds of battle.

It was Renik, striding out from behind a partially collapsed tent on the outermost row of the camp. His blades were just as bloody as Lusani’s guards’, and his clothes were stained with gore—and rent to shreds in several places. Barent observed deep claw marks running down the full length of Renik’s right arm, and a jagged slash cut across the center of his torso. But despite these obvious injuries, the man moved like he’d just woken up from a good night’s sleep. Renik exhibited no outward signs of fatigue at all, only an unnatural eagerness to fight.

He was a primed weapon, waiting to be aimed.

“Corral them in the camp,” Lusani instructed. “Keep those bastards away from the ship at all costs.”

“And what about them?” Renik asked, pointing one of his longblades at the Exiles approaching from across the plains.

Lusani hit the switch and powered up the plasma rifle. “Leave them to me.”

The last of the Olin streaming out from the ship realized that the battle in the camp—though vicious—was mostly contained, so they began diverting to Lusani’s side to face the newest threat. Those who stood ready to defend the ship had barely half the number of the approaching Exile horsemen, now only three hundred meters away, but they appeared steadfast and confident—as if they harbored no doubt that they’d find a way to prevail against the much greater odds.

Barent didn’t share that confidence.

“Give me the rifle,” he said to Lusani.

“No,” she snapped. “My people. My responsibility.”

Lusani stared out at the line of horsemen as they drew closer, her eyes growing wide as their true numbers were revealed.

“The Exiles must have kept half their force in reserve,” she said. “It was clever to strike after the hunt when we were vulnerable. They know we can defend the
Olin
by holding them at the few entrances, and raining down arrows on them from the spires. Bows may not be very effective against the Exiles, but time and attrition would be on our side. Eventually, a bad storm would force them to disband altogether and seek shelter.”

Lusani sneered. “Yes, this…this was clever.”

Barent checked his ammo, and then he asked Tana about hers.

“It’ll be a knife fight soon,” she said.

“You’re right about that,” he agreed. “I’m almost out, too.”

The sound of the approaching horses filled the air as Lusani raised the plasma rifle to her shoulder and began firing. Her first few shots were high, but she quickly got the hang of it and started cutting through the Exile line. Barent noted that Lusani was hitting far more horses than riders, probably because they presented a much larger target, but that meant that many of the Exiles being thrown from their dying mounts were getting back up again to resume the charge on foot.

When they got within pistol range, Tana and Barent opened up as well. The combined weapons fire caused nearly half of the Exile horsemen to divert to their position to address the threat, but the others headed straight into the camp, joining their brethren already battling the Olin in the main engagement.

“Here they come,” Tana said.

Barent thought Lusani was doing an admirable job with the plasma rifle, particularly for someone with no training on the weapon, and she was inflicting heavy casualties on the Exiles as they advanced. He and Tana were doing their part as well, and a few Olin horsemen had even ridden out to intercept the enemy, valiantly trying to slow the charge. But despite these combined efforts, there was no holding the Exiles back. They breached the Olin defensive position like it was made out of paper, killing or knocking everyone to the ground as they drove through it.

Barent hopped back up to discover he was out of ammo. And as the Exiles dismounted to finish off what remained of the Olin contingent, it turned into an all-out melee.

“With me,” he called out to Tana.

She jumped up and placed her back against his, and then they fought like they’d been training for this moment for decades. The pair lashed out like bloodthirsty demons—freshly released from the pits of hell—mercilessly hacking the Exile warriors down as they came at them from every direction. Tana’s success demonstrated that the Olin were wrong about her daggers. If you pushed them in far enough, they killed just fine. And Barent was using his military-issue blade with the very same efficiency. Their knives may have been shorter than the Olin longblades, but they were proving just as deadly in the gaps between the Exile’s thick clothing—and their exposed faces.

“Lusani!” one of the Olin yelled. “Protect Lusani!”

Barent looked over just in time to see her cut down by a massive Exile. He drove a broad longblade straight down through Lusani’s chest—all the way to the hilt. And as he pulled it back out again the brutal killer turned to the side, giving Barent a good look at the man.

Most of the Olin and Exiles were roughly the same size; Barent was larger than the majority of them, but not by much. But this Exile was
enormous
, dwarfing Barent as he did the people of Le’sant. The giant reached down and snatched the plasma rifle from Lusani’s hands, and then he stood up straight again to examine the weapon.

“Throwing dagger!” Barent yelled to Tana.

She tugged one from her belt and pushed it into Barent’s palm as he reached back, continuing to fight on with her other hand as he took it.

Barent kicked a charging Exile out of the way and sent the dagger sailing through the air. Another slashed at him while his attention was diverted, but Barent recovered in time to stab his attacker in the face and shove him backward. As the dead Exile toppled to the ground, Barent looked over to discover that his aim had been true. The dagger had struck the plasma rifle’s trigger assembly perfectly, and with enough force to break it off the main housing and send it tumbling into the snow. The giant Exile looked up from the rifle and glared at Barent, his eyes burning with anger. And then he dropped the weapon and charged straight at him, knocking his own people out of the way as he picked up speed.

“Mine!” he bellowed.

The other Exiles quickly backed away from Tana and Barent, directing their attacks at nearby Olin warriors instead. Barent saw the amount of fear and deference in their actions—the absolute obedience. And then he looked over at the large Exile again.

He must be the Alpha,
Barent realized.

The one who seized control of the tribes away from the other chieftains.

“Move away from me,” he said to Tana.

She heard the tone in Barent’s voice and stepped back a few paces without arguing. Combat was no place for questions. But Tana kept her knives at the ready just the same. When the giant was almost on top of him, Barent stepped aside and let the Exile’s momentum send him flying by.

Big and strong? Yes.

But obviously no training.

But a lack of training didn’t mean the Exile wasn’t lethal, it just meant that Barent had a chance. The Alpha spun back around and glowered at Barent, and then he began slowly stalking forward, more in control of his anger now. The Exile reached beneath his fur jacket to withdraw his longblade, and Barent saw it was the same knife he’d used to kill Lusani. Her blood still coated the full length of it. That sight heightened his senses, and Barent became aware of a change in the atmosphere around them.

Dozens of the nearby Exiles had formed a solid circle around the two men, isolating them from the battle. And then four of them rushed forward to overpower Tana, pulling her aside while Barent remained focused on the Alpha. They placed her in the circle with them, holding a blade at her throat.

“Keep her alive,” the Alpha ordered. Then he pointed one of his large hands at Barent. “She belongs to him. And when he’s dead, she’s mine.”

The Exile restraining Tana dropped the blade from her neck, but still kept both of her hands held tightly behind her back.

The two men began to circle each other as the Exiles surrounding them watched.

“What’s your name?” the Alpha asked.

“Barent.”

“I am called, Astok. I believe that men should know the names of their killers.”

“I agree,” Barent replied. Then he smiled. “And now you know the name of yours.”

Barent was sizing up Astok’s movements as they played out their little game, each of them trying to evaluate the nerve and skill of the other before their blades finally clashed. The Exile didn’t appear very agile to Barent, but when you were that large and formidable, you could get away with moving slowly.

“I can’t tell if your bravado is confidence or insanity,” Astok said.

The Alpha appeared somewhat amused by Barent, and there wasn’t a trace of fear in his voice. In Astok’s mind, he had already won this fight. What followed was merely going through the motions.

“Where are you from?” he asked. Astok indicated Barent’s white skin. “You are clearly not Olin.”

“I am from the
Le’sant
.”

“Ahhh,” the Exile replied. “That explains much. Then you
are
a madman. I should have realized—”

Astok lunged forward without warning, and once again Barent sidestepped his lumbering charge. But this time, the Exile managed to grab a piece of Barent’s jacket as he sailed by, pulling them both down into the snow. Barent stabbed at Astok’s face as he tried to roll away, but the Exile slapped the blade with one of his bulky hands—smacking it hard enough to send the weapon flying over the heads of the assembled spectators and out well beyond the circle. Barent tried to gain some distance from the Exile, but Astok grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back again, slashing at him with his longblade. Barent spun around just in time to see the attack and dove inside the arc of Astok’s swing, elbowing the Exile in the face, and then kicking him away with all his might. The impact of the blow sent them both back down to the ground.