Janice Hardy - Blue Fire

Was that the Duke’s army?

The carriage slowed at the gates, tall, with wide iron bars thick as my wrist. I saw at least five soldiers, but there were probably more.

One soldier walked up to the carriage door. She opened it, her hand on her sword. “Your business?”

“Delivering a prisoner for bounty.”

She looked at me and nodded. “Bring her out.”

Fieso slid down the seat and tugged on my rope. “Out.”

I got out, graceful as a frog.

“This way.” The soldier led us over to the guard station. Boards with reward posters nailed to them hung behind it. Faces of all kinds stared out at me, including my own.

“That’s her there,” Fieso said, pointing.

The soldier paused, then pulled the poster down. “Bring her to holding while I send someone for the magistrate.” She called over another soldier. They spoke briefly, casting glances at Fieso, then the second soldier waved us on.

“Follow me.”

“What about my carriage?” Fieso said.

“Tell your driver to ride on through. He’ll see the tether posts on the left.”

We stepped through the giant gate and into Baseer. My throat tightened, as if the air itself were poison.

Baseer. I’m in Baseer.

A square cage sat in the middle of a fenced pen. The soldier opened it and motioned me inside. I walked past her and plopped to the cool stone floor. Some welcome. Maybe it was a warning to all who came through the gates – obey the rules or pay the price.

“How long till I get my money?” Fieso asked. My money, not our money. Shame the driver didn’t hear that. I bet he’d be joining Resik and Uncle along the side of the road before nightfall.

“I don’t make the magistrate’s schedule,” the soldier said. She pointed to a bench not far from the cage. “Wait there.”

Fieso sat, and not long after, the driver took a place beside him. People, carts, and carriages walked and rolled past us, but not many looked my way. I guess with so many faces on the reward posters, prisoners in the cage weren’t unusual.

I sat quietly, my head hanging down as if I were too scared or weak to do anything else. Wasn’t far from the truth, but I could move my wrists a little. With luck, maybe I could slide a hand free. No clue what I’d do after that, but every mile walked started with a step.

“What’s taking them so long?” Fieso said after an hour. He jumped to his feet. “How hard is it to count out some coins and put them in a chest?”

I guess he’d never tried to count to five thousand before.

The driver didn’t seem as concerned. “They gotta find guards to leave with all that money. Baseeri thieves’ll just rob it if they get the chance.”

That was a surprise. With their dark hair, I’d assumed they were Baseeri.

“Hey,” Fieso called to the gate soldiers. The same woman as before looked up. “When’s he getting here?”

She shrugged.

“I hate these people.”

The sun was halfway to the horizon when a carriage rolled up. “About time,” Fieso muttered. The driver yawned and stayed on the bench.

The carriage door opened and an armoured man stepped out. Not the usual silver armour the soldiers in Geveg wore though. This was dark and looked heavier. Next, a woman appeared.

Vyand.

“You got my money?” Fieso called, his hands on his hips.

“Your money?” she said, a cat’s grin on her face. A second man in armour left the carriage. The two men on the driver’s bench climbed down as well. The soldier woman from the gate walked over, followed by the man she’d spoken to earlier.

I had a feeling nobody in that carriage worked for the magistrate, and my guts said the two soldiers at the gate were working for Vyand. Bribes paid better than bureaucrats.

Fieso dropped his arms and tensed. The driver finally realised something was up, because he got off the bench. Vyand strolled towards them, her armoured bodyguards in her wake.

“I have their money.” She pulled a pouch off her belt and tossed it to the woman soldier. She caught it in one hand and nodded once. “My thanks again.”

“Always a pleasure.”

Fieso’s hands clenched. “You trying to cheat me?”

“You stole my property and accuse me of cheating you ?” Vyand tsked. “I’ll take my Shifter now.”

“I want my money first.”

“Sorry, it’s my money.”

Fieso dived at her, a knife suddenly in his hand. He sank it up to the hilt in her side and she cried out, fingers pressed against her stomach. Blood seeped through the cloth.

The driver drew his sword as Vyand’s men drew theirs. All except…

One of the armoured men dropped to one knee and placed both hands over Vyand’s wound. His eyes narrowed, his cheek twitched, then the colour returned to her cheeks. He pressed his bloody hand against his armour.

His blue armour. Pynvium blue.

Chapter Seven

Saints and sinners, a soldier-healer in pynvium armour! This is what the Duke was doing with his Healers? Training them to kill?

He’d turned Healers into weapons.

It was awful. It was… I shuddered. Terrifying. How could you kill a soldier who could heal their own wounds and push it into their armour? They’d be unstoppable.

Fieso and the driver were clearly the better fighters, but it didn’t seem to matter. Fieso’s knife slipped between the armour plates, drew blood and had to have pierced organs, but the soldier-healers just pushed the pain into the pynvium and kept fighting. They neither dodged nor danced, weren’t light on their feet like Fieso. They didn’t have to be.

The other men helped Vyand to her feet. She was pale but steady. All three stood back and watched the healer-soldiers, as did a few of the gate soldiers. Why were they fighting for Vyand? She couldn’t have hired them. The Duke would never give weapons like that to anyone. Was he helping Vyand? But why? Wasn’t paying her enough?

Did they know what they were? The other soldiers didn’t get the same reaction.

The driver screamed and went down. The soldier-healer ran him through, then smiled like he’d enjoyed doing it.

No one could stand against the Duke with an army like this. No one.

I wiggled my wrists harder, faster, trying to get out of there before the soldier-healers killed Fieso. Skin ripped, but the ropes stayed tight. I ground them against the stone floor, the edge of my sandal, anything that even looked like it might cut.

Fieso put up a good fight, but he wasn’t going to win. He tried to run, but the soldiers caught him and shoved him down. Vyand smiled, looking impressed, and whispered to the man next to her. He made notes in a small book I hadn’t seen before.

I gasped. Was this a test? Was the Duke letting Vyand borrow the soldiers to see how they’d do in a real fight? What kind of power did she have?

The soldier-healers advanced and finished Fieso off. He didn’t scream, just grunted in pain and collapsed. Vyand nodded, seemingly very pleased with the soldiers’ performance.

This was worse than the rows of pain-stuffed Takers in the Healers’ League. Worse than the riots, the fighting, even the random beatings. If the Duke turned those soldiers loose on Geveg, we wouldn’t survive. It wouldn’t be like Sorille. We would die not in fire but by the hands of those who should have been keeping us alive.

Vyand snapped her fingers and her men dragged the bodies away, behind the carriages where I couldn’t see. She walked over to me, plucking at her bloody uniform.

“Look at this. Ruined. Blood never comes out.” Not as flippant as she probably intended, and I caught the strain in her voice. Getting stabbed like that took time to get over, even if you were healed right away.