Spear of Destiny: Chapter 25

My own experiences as a paratrooper had drilled a set of images and smells into my memory: the cavernous spartan troop carrier, little more than a big flying tube with rows of folding seats down the length of the plane. Every seat held a grim-faced soldier. Some feigned relaxation. Some meditated or prayed, others jittered their legs or chewed bits of paper, or just ground their teeth and stared at the exit doors. I could still hear the roar of the engines fluxing, the sergeants barking over the radio, and taste the way the frigid cabin smelled like an old greasy gym bag.

Thanks to the Orphans, our journey to Bas was the literal opposite of that.

Meewfolk were different to humans in one fundamental way: They were a predator species. Normal, non-psychopathic humans needed desensitization and training to overcome our social instincts, but every single one of these tall, pretty, Blue Ribbon cat-show champion-looking motherfuckers was a natural born killer. They gave about as much of a fuck about taking a life as real cats did – which is to say, absolutely none. Any one of Taethawn’s soldiers would happily tear someone’s head off, kick it around on the ground for a while, and then bring the severed torso back to their baby-boo and leave it on their bed for them to find in the morning. This meant they didn’t need to psych themselves up into Condition Red before a fight. They actually had to loosen up, shed the societal inhibitions that allowed them to function in society and not murder us or each other. So Taethawn’s men got ready for war by partying and taking drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.

We were an hour off the drop point, and a hundred armored catfolk hung out on the decks of the ship: hollering, hissing, laughing, and chugging kegs of what the HUD Item Identifier euphemistically labeled [Meewfolk Battle Tea]. Taethawn was in the thick of it. He was kitted out and ready to go, any visible metal painted a dark-blue grey to blend with the night sky. He and all the other Meewfolk had rubbed grease and ash into the white parts of their fur to darken it. As I headed toward his posse, he rolled onto his back and flipped agilely to his feet, spinning down into an athletic Cossack dance as his officers whooped and yowled.

"Come and join us, your grace! And you lot! Rise for the Voivode!" Taethawn roared as he swiped his mug off the ground mid-kick and spiraled up to his feet. His pupils were the size of saucers. "Mra'ha gai!"

"Mra'haaa gaiii!" His bloodriders sprung up as well, smacking their mugs together so hard the earthy-smelling contents spilled out.

I couldn't help but grin. "How are you feeling, Taethawn? Ready to fly?"

"Am I ready? Of coursssse! My mother shhhhot me into the air like a cannonball when I was born!" He cackled, toasting his mug to the clouds rushing over our heads. "Here's to falling out of the fucking sky!"

He was echoed by lusty yowls from his troops as he slammed the rest of the tea back.

"By Khors’ beard." Captain Vilmos muttered. "What is this... this... nonsense? We have forty minutes to contact!"

"Relax, dude." I clapped him on the arm and grinned back at the roguish Meewfolk. "If he says they're good go, they're good to go."

"Hahaha! You Vlachii, all of you tighter than a Mercurion's asshole!" Taethawn leered down at Vilmos, then waved at one of his bloodriders, who took his mug and went to refill it. "Have a drink, Your Grace! It will help you enjoy the battle, mra?"

"Here! Voivode! Drink!" A ginger-pointed warrior with chipped ears and a muzzle twisted by claw scars staggered over to me from the hearth. He pressed a mug into my hands. "Isss grassss! Grasssss makesss fast!"

"Your Grace-!" Vilmos winced as I sniffed the luke-warm liquid, and before he could stop me, I took a mouthful off the top. It wasn't alcoholic - it really was just some kind of tea. It tasted like sweet mint tea mixed with lemon, oregano... and dirt?

"Don't sweat it, man. I'm a fucking dragonrider. Whatever's in this piss is nothing compared to what I had to go through to get Karalti. Mra'ha gai, motherfuckers!" I toasted the delighted Meewfolk, then chugged the rest to their roars of encouragement.

[You have learned a new Herbal recipe: Prrupt'meew Battlegrass Tea - a herbal stimulant and mild hallucinogen that grants increased speed, adrenaline regeneration, and resistance to pain at the expense of inhibition. Battlegrass Tea is only fully beneficial to Meewfolk, granting smaller buffs to humans and Lys. Onset of hallucinations is delayed by four hours.]

[You have discovered new herbs: Kraa'krai (Battlegrass), psilocybin mushroom (Bluestem Whitecap), Verbena, Catnip.]

"What did I tell you boys? Our new Voivode isn't some stuffy overgrown monkey, mra?" Taethawn wandered over, threw his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me in to rub his cheek against mine.

The tea hit me with a flush of pleasant warmth that spread through my chest, all the way down to my fingers and toes. I checked my HUD: I had +1 to Dex, +5% adrenaline regen, and -10% pain resistance for four hours. Nice.

At the other end of the ship, I heard a round of cheers go up, and looked over to see Suri and Karalti drain their mugs before slamming them down.

“Vilmos? Feel like joining in some esprit de corps?” I offered him my cup, beaming toothily.

“Eyy…” He massaged his forehead. “I am too old, your Grace. By your leave, I will retreat into the command center.”

“Go. Wish us luck.” I nodded to him as he saluted, and gratefully fled the deck as several Meewfolk began belting out one of the songs I’d taught them in a shrill chorus of hissing, off-key voices. “I saw an old lady walking down the street, with a chute on her back and jump boots on her feet! I said, ‘Hey old lady, where you goin’ to?’ She said ‘I’m going to the Army Airborne School!’”

The plan was simple, but risky. We had the pair of frigates, which I’d renamed the RVN Campbell and the RVN Lockhart after some cool guys I’d known back on Earth, two hundred of Taethawn’s finest, and a platoon of Yanik Rangers led by Istvan and Zlaslo. We would deploy in three waves. Karalti and I were jumping first with the Hi-5s, highly maneuverable rectangular parachutes with enhanced steering ability in the air. We were going to land right in the middle of the castle: the smaller Upper Ward, where Zoltan slept within the confines of the keep. The pair of us would take out any guards, disable alarms, and – if we could – seal the gated stairwells that connected the Upper Ward to the much larger Lower Ward. Once we’d done that, we would contact Suri and signal the second wave: a platoon of Rangers, who would join me and Karalti in the Upper Ward, and the Orphans Company assault force, who would land in the Lower Ward and fight anyone who came out.

“Commander! We’ve got to line ‘em up!” I called. “Thirty minutes til’ contact!”

Taethawn nodded, then huddled with his bloodriders. They all touched noses and rubbed cheeks, then broke apart. The troops nearest them began scrambling as soon as they saw their officers straighten out, and the rest followed as the six of them began to yowl like air-raid sirens. The noise shut the party down almost instantly: the soldiers lined up as they’d been drilled to do, some of them still bouncing with excitement on their feet, while others checked and double-checked the improvised static lines we’d strung over the decks. I wove through the troops to join Karalti and Suri. Suri was cross-checking operation details in her HUD, and waggled her fingers at me, but didn’t look away. Karalti was looking over the edge of the railing, wiggling in excitement and gripping the straps of her chute.

“Ready to kick some ass?” I drew up beside her.

“Yeah!” She turned to me, her eyes bright and curious. “It feels weird to dive without wings. When I was practicing with Suri, I kept waving my arms around, trying to path through the air.”

“No tail, either.” The Bond tugged at me. I pulled her into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around my waist and cheeped, pushing her cheek up against my breastplate and rubbing it and her jawbone over my chest. As I smooched her on the top of her head, I glimpsed Suri look up from her work and watch us for a minute, an expression unreadable.

There was a bell chime over the ship’s ‘intercom’ – comm tubes that carried orders from the command center to the deck. “All personnel, move to handholds or retreat to cabin. I repeat, all personnel, move to handholds or retreat to cabin. RVN Campbell is taking evasive maneuvers on approach to Solonovka.”

Suri joined us at the railing, peering almost intently as Karalti had. The city was in view, a bright blaze ring of walls and towers against the blackness of the mountains. My HUD matched up the details of the maps with the features of the landscape, including the defense towers – and their serachlights. The bright blue-white columns scanned the skies, strong enough that they lit the low-hanging clouds and reflected back.

“I think we found what they’re using the Ix’tamo for,” I muttered. “Shit.”

“Don’t worry. The crew is on it. I think it’s real unlikely we’ll be spotted.” Suri pushed back, even as another chime sounded over comms. “Captain to all personnel, we are flying dark. Prepare for ascent to 17 thousand.”

“Twenty minutes,” she said, as all of the lights on the ship faded to a dull orange glow. “You ready to run the check?”

“Yes ma’am.” I stepped back from Karalti and steered her into the line as she tried to lean over the side again.

Suri’s eyes hooded. “Do I get a kiss?”

“You get an extra one.” I leaned in as she did and caught her mouth with mine, kissing her until she smiled, then broke away and fell into position.

First check: weather. It was windy and bitterly cold, but the clouds were thin and the sky was free of rain. Thanks to their natural insulation and trained hardiness, the Orphans were basically immune to all but the worst extremes of cold weather. Second check was target visibility. Hussar Manor was a small uneven septagon visible on my battle map overlay. As I'd hoped, the keep and grounds were almost dark – considerably darker than the rest of the city.

I checked the line and signaled Suri from across the deck. Karalti winked at me, and drew herself up straight, puffing her chest out.

“Alright, fleabags!” I hollered over the roar of the engines, stalking down the line to make sure everyone was following instructions: standing roughly arm's length apart, checking the gear of the man in front of them. "Fifteen minutes to contact! Until the Commander gives the order, you will hold position! Do not jump until instructed! When we touch ground, do not - and I repeat - do NOT try and gather your parachute! Cut that fucker, find the nearest target, and give them hell! Orphaaaans Compaaaany!"

"Orphans Company!" The lines shouted back.

Suri yelled out the same set of orders as she marched down the second line of jumpers, checking ziplines and correcting spacing. We did it again on the way back. Karalti was buzzing with energy as we checked our harnesses and made sure we had the flares Rin had crafted for us.

"Ten minutes!" Suri bellowed, projecting her voice as well as any drill instructor.

I stepped to Taethawn, and we both saluted one another. “All I’s dotted and all t’s crossed, commander. How are you feeling?”

"Like I need to take a big old piss after all that battletea." He flashed me a wicked grin. "All over this robber baron's corpse, m’rai?"

"You better get to him before Kitti does." I grinned back.

"Hah!" He flicked his ears, tail lashing with amusement. His pupils were so large that his eyes were black. "Speaking of Lady Hussar, she is looking pleasantly green."

He was right. The girl was clutching the railing of the airship in a white-knuckled hand. She seemed pale and very small between Letho and Gruna. Both of the huge men were also nervous, struggling not to fidget with their harnesses as Suri marched down and corrected the distance between themselves and Kitti.

"Five minutes!" I shouted, showing the sign. Then I nodded to Taethawn. "I'll go pep her up."

"Good man." Taethawn winked. "ORPHANSSSS!"

"ORPHANS COMPANY!" The Meewfolk yelled back, tails lashing, claws out. The hum of excitement was intense, like the energy before a big concert, but when I pulled up beside Kitti, I saw she was shivering and fit to puke.

“How’re you doing?” I gave her a nod.

“Not so great,” she admitted. “The air hurts to breathe. Suri didn’t have time to train me, because she had to take care of the soldiers.”

"It’ll be the most fun you’ve ever had while falling. You'll be in the air for about five minutes," I said to her. "But I get it. The wait before your first jump is always the worst."

The Lady's eyes darted between me and the roaring Meewfolk as Suri let out the three-minute call. "What if the parachute doesn't work?"

"It will. Just think about the landing." I gave her a nod, then smiled. "And imagine Zoltan's face when we bust into his bedchamber and drag him out in his nightrobe."

She giggled, and that helped. I clapped her on the shoulder, inclined my head to her men, and went to assume position at the head of my line.

"Twenty seconds!" Suri and I called back together. She was on the other gate, ready to lead her row into the air.

I pulled the sides of the gate in against the wind and locked it, grasping the sides of the railing and leaning out. With the ship’s lights off, I could see my target far below: a dark rectangle of bare stone.

"One, one, one! See you down there, boys and girls!" I called back to my line. "Let's fuck 'em up!"

With a glance to Suri, I braced on either side of the gate, rocked backed and forth a couple of times to make sure I had my footing on the frosty wood, and then kicked out into the open sky.