BloodLust (Rise of the Iliri Book 1) (29 page)

Chapter 34

They sat on their horses quietly.  The black resin of their matched armor soaked up the light around them.  The breath from the horses steamed in the dawn light.  The heavy cavalry kept their distance from the Black Blades, made uncomfortable by the silence they worked in and their synchronized movements.  Even now, with the supply train rolling slowly into the valley, the messenger approached them fearfully, unable to determine the leader.

"Sir?" he asked timidly.

"Report, soldier."  The man on the black horse spoke, never turning his head away from the train below.

"Sir, you're to cover our flank and pick off anyone that tries to escape to get word back."

"Boy, tell Llyr he can shove his orders up his ass.  My men will be where they're needed and we'll make sure this shit gets done."  The Lieutenant stared at what would become the battleground.  "He wanted my damned Blades out here.  He's got 'em.  Now he has to deal with what that means."

The trembling soldier nodded, too intimidated to speak to the Black Blades again.

"And boy?"  LT growled, turning to the messenger.  His pale eyes glared through the slit in his helm, pausing the kid before he could even turn his mount. "Tell the cav to stay the fuck out of our way."

"Yes, sir," the young man said, spurring his horse, retreating as fast as he could.

Sal sat to Blaec's left, Cyno flanking her other side.  Two crossbows were strapped across her mare's flanks, a pair of sabers strapped to her back, her knives in sheaths at her waist, and a halberd in her hand.  She was not the most heavily armed soldier in the group, either.  They were ready. 

Open us up, Arctic,
LT ordered, and the Blades felt their minds spread apart, their thoughts combining with those of each man in the link.

Arctic's tactical reason, Razor's strength, Shift's adaptability and Zep's physical control flowed to enhance Cyno's speed, Sal's agility, Risk's calm logic, and the Lieutenant's rage.  Every man could feel the others.  All of them became a part of the whole, until the Black Blades were one: a single organism, with a single purpose.  The anger simmered from them, the anticipation and intensity coursing through all of them, each one ready, each one a killer.

The heavy cavalry milled in the trees, their discipline failing in the close quarters.  The Empire's supply train creaked through the narrow path, surrounded by pikemen and heavily armored soldiers.  There were six wagons total, each pulled by four oxen struggling against their yokes.  The weight of the load was enough to be steel or iron.  The wagons had been traveling for hundreds of kilometers.  The soldiers guarding it should be fatigued and travel weary, the weeks of inactivity lulling them into a false sense of security.  The Blades knew better.

A horn sounded and the Conglomerate Calvary spilled out of the trees in waves. 

Wait for it. 

Ceramic rang against resin below them and horses screamed when they ran onto the waiting pikes. 

Wait for it.

Blood splattered the grass and rocks, Sal's heart began to beat faster and she could feel Cyno's matching it.  Men in purple were slaughtered by the dozens, outnumbered and unprepared for the cerulean soldiers cutting them down so easily. 

Wait for it. 

The sight of destruction called to her, and Sal felt seven hearts fall into rhythm with her own, each one feeding on the frenzy she and Cyno poured into the link.  Each one straining for the desire she controlled.

Wait for it.

Below them, a sea of purple poured from the other side of the mountain.  The Imperial cavalry surged forward, slicing into the unprotected back of the Conglomerate army, splitting the line and pushing toward the train.

Kill them all.

The Lieutenant released them and the Black Blades shot forward, their horses lunging over the precipice, hips tucked under them, sliding and pulling toward the targets their riders chose.  Ears pinned, teeth bared, they raced.  Sal held her weight back, freeing Arden's shoulders, giving the mare her head, her eyes locked on a pikeman who had spotted them. 

As her horse's feet found the base of the hill, Sal lowered her weapon, the resin hook and spike aimed for the man's heart.  He grounded his pike, pointed at Arden's chest, and she pushed her heel into the mare's side, feeling her horse bend and shift.  With a twist, Sal snagged the enemy weapon with hers and wrenched the pole from the soldier's grip before directing her mare to swing around.  Arden obeyed like an extension of Sal's own body.  The pair surged forward and the halberd pierced through the man, his eyes widening in pain as he died.  Her excitement peaked, and she turned for the next target.

Across the link, she felt Cyno cut down a soldier, slicing his head clean from his body, and the Blades drank in their need for more blood.  When Shift drove his lance through a Terran horseman's breastplate, the bloodlust crossed the mental bridge.  Each Blade drew it into himself, each Blade added to the pull for more death.  Splitting into separate directions, they slaughtered easily, the mingling of their iliri minds giving speed and hyper-awareness to each of them.  Behind them, they left a sea of purple and black corpses, nothing more than obstacles to steer their mounts around.

Sal spun Arden, seeking another life to destroy, and saw Cessa's dark hide shining in the morning sun.  Zep engaged an enemy horseman, their blades swinging, their horses turning.  Another Terran charged them, his pike lowered, the Blade in his sights.  Calmly, she reached behind her, grabbed a crossbow, and loosed it in one smooth motion.  The bolt sailed across the distance and lodged itself securely in the opening of his helm.  The man slumped in his saddle even as his horse charged on.  A surge of appreciation flowed like water into her mind and Zep's blade sliced through the arm of the man before him. 

The crossbow still in her hand, now nearly useless as a weapon, she pushed Arden forward.  Riding past Razor and his opponent, she swung it like a club, catching a teamster in the head, his body leaving the ground before falling in a crumpled heap, broken.  She responded to the need in her mind, a second swordsman here, an archer there.  Each of the Black Blades knew the threats the others faced, and they cut them down one by one. 

She could feel Blaec, a sword in each hand, Scorch responding to only his legs.  The Lieutenant buried his weapon in the neck of a horse, the beast dropping to its knees, spilling its rider to die beneath his black stallion's hooves.  Blaec turned to face the next threat, a group of four horsemen locked shoulder to shoulder, lances aimed at the Lieutenant.  He urged Scorch to run, pushing him around the line before spinning and falling in behind them.  The young stallion surged, his ears pinned, reaching to bite the neck of the enemy horse when he pulled alongside.  That horse shied, pushing into the mount on its other side, pinning the men's legs.  Blaec swung, finding the gap at the man's neck.  Blood poured down his blade.  He urged Scorch closer and sliced along the loin of the second horse.  It crumpled as its back legs became useless.

Another imperial charged at him.  Only a thought from Risk warned the Lieutenant in time.  Blaec threw up his armored arms, catching the full blow of the oncoming sword against the hardened resin, and slid off Scorch's hip, the horse running too hard to stop.  He rolled when he hit the ground, pulling another sword, and crouched, waiting for the rider to circle back.

"Scorch!" he yelled.  His horse broke off the headlong charge to return to his master as he'd been trained.

The Imperial came for another pass, and Blaec waited.  The rider bore down on him.  At the last moment, Blaec surged forward, screaming his defiance, and sliced at the horse's legs while simultaneously ducking the blade swinging toward his head.  The poor beast tried to continue another pace, his destroyed legs failing him, but the Terran dove from the animal's back.  Rolling when he hit the ground, the enemy turned to face his opponent.  Behind Blaec, the two remaining lancers pivoted, ready to make another pass at the Lieutenant.

Blaec rushed the man before him and a streak of black charged the lancers, Raven sliding to a stop at the last moment.  Cyno used her inertia to throw him across the mounted men, pulling them from their horses.  As they fell, he pushed the first below him, his knee at the Terran's throat, and twisted to sling the second away.  The impact resulted in a sickening crack when the man's neck broke, then Cyno leapt on the other, pinning him to the ground and sliding a dagger between the edges of his eye slit.  Neither moved again. 

Cyno turned to the Lieutenant, the swordsman dead at his feet.  The two Blades nodded at each other in understanding before running to their horses.  They swung into their saddles and sought out more enemies to kill.

As a unit, they destroyed anything in their way until there was nothing left but themselves and the soldiers in blue.  The clearing stank of blood and shit as the dead emptied themselves.  Looking around, finding nothing more to kill, the desire ripped through them, demanding to be satiated.  Sal could feel Cyno thinking of her pale skin and she tried to bury her own need to hurt something else, to hear his cries of ecstasy.

Cyno, Sal, Go!  Arctic, shut it down, before they pull us in,
Blaec ordered.

I'm good, LT.  Sal can hold it too, just get us outta the damned link,
Jase thought as the connection faded around them.

Are you ok, love?
Blaec sent to her, his touch gentle in her mind.

No, but I can control it for a bit.  We got this.

She desired nothing more than to feel Jase's hands on her, to claw at his skin, but she could hold off for a while longer.  Her unit needed her.  Even with her frenzy pulling at her, she had the strength to resist it. 

The Blades reined their horses toward their commander.  Falling into ranks, LT led them toward the wagons.  Corpses littered the ground, and Sal guided her mare carefully to prevent a bad step.  The air inside her helm felt close and confining, the view through the visor limited.  She wrenched at the clasps along her neck, feeling them loosen, and pulled it off, sucking in the cool morning air.  Glancing at the sky, she begged her body to give her control before securing the helm to her saddle.  Around her, the others did the same, their faces flushed.  When her eyes found Cyno, he stared, the need apparent on his face as if she were his prey.

Soon,
she told him.
  We're Blades first.

I'm good.  Jus' do na come near me yet,
he warned, his mental voice a growl.

Sal nodded and pushed Arden away, moving to put Blaec between them.  He glanced at her once before turning to the captain of the Heavy Calvary.  Llyr strode toward them on foot.

"Where's your horse, sir?" LT asked snidely, the corner of his lip raised ever so slightly.

"Went down to a pike, Doll.  Don't get all smart-ass on me," the Captain replied.  "What took you so long to get in there?  I lost men because of you."

"No," LT said, coldly.  "You lost men because you refused to listen to me.  I told you there was cavalry.  My man was embedded with the scouts tracking them.  You just refused to believe it."

"There was no sign of those bastards, damn it!"

"There were still there, Llyr.  Fuck.  If I hadn't held, my Blades would have been in the middle of that shit, too, not peeling your ass out of it.  Now get your shit together and let's see if this is the steel we're here for."

"Lieutenant, you will not speak to me in that tone!" Llyr snapped, trying to intimidate the leader of the Black Blades.

"Sir," Arctic said, leaning forward, his forearm resting on his pommel.  "I highly recommend you don't pull rank here.  You know as well as everyone in the CFC that the only reason LT's not a damned General is because he won't take it, not because they haven't tried to give it to him.  So take your sore ass and shove it, or I'll order these men to shove it for you.  Check the damned train!"

Llyr turned his angry gaze to Arctic, but when his mouth opened LT cut him off.

"And if you don't like my First Officer's tone, you take it up with me.  Understood?"

Llyr's mouth clamped closed.  The presence of eight heavily armored soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, horse to horse, glaring at him, changed his attitude.  "Yes, sir," he said.  Storming off, he screamed orders at his men to open the wagons and secure the load.