Hard Frost- Depths of Winter Page 2

  “She and her Tulevi adoptive uncle, Derek Dukon, survived. Army First Sergeant Dukon took retirement, accepting the task of raising Sarki Kinan. He trained her in weaponry and tactics, eventually accepting her as his partner on mercenary missions off the Terra Plane. In their travels, Kinan continued to acquire languages. Witnesses confirm working knowledge of fifteen, but she is suspected to know more than that number. Dukon was killed by a gunshot wound when she was eighteen years of age.”

  Hearing the tragedies of my past laid out so bluntly raised my anxiety, and I knew it was time to leave. Standing slowly, I backed toward the door in case he tried to stop me. For a couple seconds, he didn’t notice that I was leaving.

  “Her first solo missions mainly consisted of escorting caravans, translating for traveling merchants, and hired guard work.” Bret paused when he saw me exiting his office.

  “Thank you for reminding me not to be an idiot.” The even cadence of my voice reassured me that the anger and disappointment crushing my chest at his betrayal didn’t show outwardly. He rose and silently followed me to Romtal’s stall; his eyes burned into my back as I began to saddle the gelding. I grunted slightly while cinching the girth tight. “Needless to say, neither Romtal nor I will be returning. The bank transfer for services to current day will deposit tomorrow.”

  Bret didn’t move. “This is not necessary, Kinan. Your secrets are safe with me,” he assured, his fists clenched at his sides.

  I closed the stall door behind Romtal and me. The gelding nickered, obviously overdue for an adventure. The two duffel bags that I had brought with me tied together with minimal effort and draped comfortably over his haunches despite the weight. With a sure hand, I checked to be sure that no sharp edges jabbed his hide. Then I put my left foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up. “Bret, here is the dash of irony. If my secrets had been safe with you, you never would have gone looking for them.”

  In my mind’s eye, I pictured the reference point my employers had given me to the way station—the stopping point that would serve as the journey’s starting point. Effortlessly, I reached into myself and grasped the energy that flowed through my core. Next, I merged the image with the energy. An instant later, a Gate appeared before me. Anyone who had never seen a Gate might expect it to look flashy like a special effect in a movie. However, if that had been the truth of the matter, we would have already been discovered by humans on the Terra Plane.

  Gating appeared rather mundane visually unless one was looking for certain signs. First, I noticed the minute increase in temperature from the evaporating energy powering it. Then I spotted a vague discrepancy in the area in front of me, as though someone had laid a nearly transparent snapshot of the image in my mind over the actual landscape before blurring the two together. If a human didn’t question the hazy doorway too closely, he or she might write it off as a mirage or hallucination. Romtal and I knew better, though, and we walked through without hesitation to emerge two seconds later in the capital city on the Elysii Plane… ignoring Bret calling my name.

  Chapter 2

  The route to the rendezvous point took me directly through downtown Mystor. Luckily, it wasn’t my first visit to the trade market, though the city grew tremendously between every trip. My employer had warned me during my interview that a hundred thousand non-Elysii residents visited Mystor’s market daily to shop while five thousand merchant families permanently called it home. As Romtal and I carefully picked our way around vendor stalls and dodged children running through the street, I thought that perhaps the man had underestimated the numbers.

  Nearby, numerous languages were being spoken. The vast majority of the people we passed, though, were speaking the easily recognizable Raspea, often called the interplanar language of “trust me.” The Chegori demons, native to Elysii, generally preferred pacifism and desired equality in all things. They designed their language to be a neutral trade speak, thinking it would give neither the vendor nor the buyer an advantage over the other. Raspea sounded beautiful, like Italian with numerous vowels and few hard consonants. I had fallen in love with the language the first time I’d heard it, and one of the deciding factors that had gotten me many jobs over other soldiers was my fluency in it—and other languages.

  Progress toward the way station was slow, and a great deal of useless gossip burned my ears by the time I dismounted in its stable area. Instinctively, I waved the stable boy away and led Romtal toward the stabling area. By caring for him myself, I could get an idea of the atmosphere in the stables. Similarly, one of the top three places to pick up accurate and useful information was by listening to hostlers talk to one another while they worked. My job began the moment I set foot on the Plane, so my first priority was now the protection of the trade caravan leaving Mystor in less than a week.

  An empty stall near the center of the building suited our needs perfectly. Tying Romtal off on a post, I tucked my head and began pitching hay into the stall. All fae could hear exceptionally well. However, training and practice allowed me to tune through noises and conversations like turning the dial of a radio.

  “And she said that Mystor is a poor name for a city that is supposed to be the capital of a Plane and the central trading city of all Planes.” The speaker’s voice was filled with disdain. Obviously, he disagreed with the woman, though she was right. It literally meant “center.” Fortunately, the Chegori did a much better job creating a universal language than naming their towns. “And I said, what does it matter what the place is called when it offers so much?”

  Hunting for the food storage area and the watering trough, I tuned that particular conversation out and listened for another. I flipped through the conversations as some people turn channels on the television.

  “Did you see her breasts? They were the size of…”

  Nope.

  “I hear Airden is leaving with the caravan. Is it true?”

  Maybe, I thought, hesitating before I dismissed them.

  “Stupid man. He thinks I’ll be upset. He still hasn’t figured out that I’m sleeping with his brother.”

  Nope.

  Finished filling the bins, I untied Romtal’s reins to take him inside. As I dropped my bags to the ground and began unsaddling him, the tone of a man’s voice caught my attention.

  “One of the soldiers is a human.”

  The condescending emphasis placed on the word drew a wince, though most people off the Terra Plane had the same feelings. The woman who replied was definitely just as racist.

  “Why on Elysii did he hire one of them? They are too easy to kill to be of any use as guards.” In that, she was half-right. Humans were the most fragile of the demon breeds, but I knew a couple who were extremely capable of protecting a caravan. In fact, if I ever took a permanent partner, I could live with either of the two watching my back. However, I maintained my silence. If interrupted, they would undoubtedly move off and talk out of my earshot.

  When I paused with the curry brush inches from his shoulder, Romtal bumped me to get my attention. I smiled at him, taking the hint. While I stroked his coat, though, I concentrated my attention back on the pair conversing in the loft above me.

  “They say he uses guns, that he can put fifty bullets through the first bullet hole.”

  He made it seem like using Terran weapons was cheating, but I carried two guns myself. If the human was even half as precise as he was rumored to be, he exceeded my ability with a firearm and rivaled my ability with the bow. And no one I had met could outshoot me with either crossbow or hand-drawn bow.

  The woman laughed, but she definitely didn’t sound amused as the man continued. “Perhaps if he is standing an inch from the target, he is as good as they say.”

  I left the stall, closing the door behind me and warding it against intruders. Using energy pulled from my reserve, I created layers of elemental spheres—water, earth, fire, air—around the stall and Romtal. The process took seconds due to long practice, and I tied off the efforts to lock them into
place. If anyone destroyed my wards to get to him, the unused power would snap back to me and alert me.

  Romtal secure, the time had come for me to check in at the barracks. If I wanted to know more about the human, going to the source was best. Should he be inept, he had to be removed from the position even if I had to incapacitate him myself. Otherwise, he deserved the job as much as the next person. A few employers had attempted to discriminate against me because of my age until I had shown them that youth sometimes belied aptitude. Maybe his mortality and breed did the same in this case.

  The barracks smelled like disinfectant and desert air, which proved that most of the hired help hadn’t arrived yet, especially combined with how many of the personal lockers were open and empty. When filled to capacity, the room would hold upwards of fifty people. After the week of half-wages, the close-quarter residents would be on the verge of quitting or killing one another. Then the caravan would begin the interplanar trek, and we would have plenty of time to release the pent-up energy. For now, the quiet suited me.

  Choosing a bunk toward the end of the room, I unpacked my everyday items into the locker at the end and used both the padlock and a ward to secure it. As I went through my things, a few demons wandered in. By the whisperings, the man who crouched before a trunk midway down the room was the human. His shoulders were the widest I’d ever seen on his demon breed, and I wondered exactly how tall he was, which was answered after he locked his storage locker and stood. He appeared only a couple inches taller than me, right around six feet.

  Now or never.

  “Are you busy?” I asked, still a few feet away. Enough that he wouldn’t be spooked by my appearing behind him.

  “Yes?” he asked, though no change in his facial expression indicated his thoughts. Good for him.

  “Yes, you are busy or yes, some peon is addressing me and I’m not certain I should respond?” My eyebrow raised, and he rewarded me with the barest quirk at the corner of his mouth.

  “Yes, I was too busy listening to the people gossiping by the door to actually hear the question,” he corrected, offering his hand out. “I’m Jarrett Atkoy. People call me Jet.”

  A quick check assured me that my shields were still at full strength, enough to deflect an attack. I accepted his handshake. He grasped my forearm, more like a non-Terran greeted than a human might.

  “Hello, Atkoy. I’m Sarki Kinan.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  He released my arm, setting his hand on his hip like he normally wore a holster there. However, the two large caliber guns were in a shoulder rig much like the one I had on. “What can I help you with?”

  I bared my teeth in a half-grin. “Well, I’ve been on-Terra for a month, and I need to get in some target practice. You’ve apparently been making a ton of friends, but I figured our fighting styles might mesh a little better than with some of the other mercenaries. If you want to accompany me, perhaps we can test that theory.”

  His crystal-blue eyes reminded me of my Terran neighbor’s husky. Though not truly ice-blue like mine, they were still startling and beautiful. Also, assessing. “Sounds interesting, Kinan. Do you have somewhere in mind?”

  Whatever he saw in my expression made him uncertain. “We have this courtyard. It’s reserved for our use. Let’s use it.”

  He blinked. “What if someone…”

  “Then maybe they don’t deserve to be on this job. It would be better to discover now that their shields cannot resist an attack than later. Besides, we’ll mark off the area we’re using.” And every naysayer would either have their concerns confirmed or their jaws dropped.

  A nod let me know he was in, so I grabbed my bow, arrows, and a couple boxes of ammunition for my guns. Outside, we had a few options, but the best appeared to be the stone wall of a nearby building. If I warded behind the target, we’d double the protection. Unless someone jumped off the roof, no one should be able to accidentally cross in front of us since the entrance to the building faced the opposite street.

  “Here,” Atkoy grumbled, carrying an eight-foot by five-foot piece of wood toward the wall like it weighed less than a feather. If he’d been anything but human, that feat wouldn’t be extraordinary. For a human… how much could he bench press? Goddess bless.

  He leaned the target against the wall, taking a moment to doodle on it with yellow chalk. Atkoy drew a humanoid silhouette in the center of the board. A five-pointed star in the top left and a three-leaf clover in the top right with a typical bullseye in the bottom left and—I narrowed my eyes to better see—a squid in the bottom right completed our ensemble. As he walked back, I layered all four elements randomly across the back of the building in case any shots went wild. If breached, we could stop firing and rebuild before anyone was harmed. Then I flagged down one of the growing number of demons watching us, speaking to him in Raspea first. “Set a ward around that board like you’d put around yourself, would you?”

  I checked my guns, making sure both magazines were full. Atkoy did the same, flashing his Desert Eagles. Though beautiful and powerful, their magazine capacities were severely limited. However, the ridiculous size of the weapon did seem to fit the man’s build. I’d stick to my Glocks.

  The demon I’d drafted into service took it upon himself to pace off from the target. He drew two lines in the dirt a couple feet in front of us, checking them twice to make sure they were even. Then he grinned at me. “All set.”

  Someone from the crowd called out in Ferente, “What’s to say whether either of them is worth a damn?”

  “You any good with a bow?” I yelled back. He shook his head, but another man stepped forward with his short bow in hand.

  “Kyerzan, Pwein, we’ve fought together. You know I am skilled, eh?” he called to his buddies in Raspea. Both agreed heartily. “Then we’ll compare her shots to mine. If she outshoots me, then we know we can trust her to take down her targets. If she doesn’t, the rest doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “I’m not good with the Terran weapons, though. I can’t help there.”

  I grinned at my new friend. “How about this: If I outshoot our friend”—he mouthed Abshoc without my prompting—“Abshoc, we know that I’m above average with the bow. As I’m nearly as skilled with the gun, we’ll base Atkoy’s ability off mine.” They all accepted that I wasn’t asking and nodded agreement. “Excellent. What’s the challenge, Atkoy?”

  He peered at his board then back to us. “You hit each of the star’s points. I put a circle on each point and one in the center.”

  My lips curled in challenge, and I couldn’t help it as I pulled two arrows from my quiver. “Abshoc, you are the local favorite. Home team shoots first.”

  He snorted but stepped up to the line. Carefully, he nocked his arrow and pulled back. First two shots took down the ward but didn’t connect with the targets. He took his time with the next six. Kyerzan and Atkoy went up to pull the arrows and inspect the shots. Kyerzan whooped, noting for the audience that three shots—including the two breaking the ward—hadn’t hit the circle of the eight total. The human looked at me sympathetically, but I winked at him.

  Some demons—like me—could naturally sense the element used to ward if they concentrated, making it easier to counteract. My guess was that Abshoc couldn’t. From this distance, the velocity of his arrow should have been strong enough to puncture the warding with a single shot if he’d used a negating element. The second should have found the target, not the third.

  “Ward is back up,” the demon from before told the crowd.

  I took a moment, drawing energy from my center and sending a probing tendril of it toward the shield. Water. The remaining energy awaited direction, so it readily accepted the element I wove into it. Then I added it to the tips of the two arrows in my hand. Earth should cancel water.

  Drawing back, I sighted down the shaft of the arrow, aiming for the center of the star symbol. I exhaled softly and released. Upon impact, I felt the earth energy that wasn’t spent return to me. The demon
who’d created the ward glanced my way as the ward snapped with the psychic sting of a rubber band.

  Inhale, draw the bow. Exhale, release the arrow. Seven arrows, six hits.

  This time, Atkoy let out a long whistle as he pulled the arrows out carefully to return to me. He elbowed the demon beside him, and Kyerzan growled softly. That didn’t stop Abshoc’s friend from reluctantly admitting that I had not only used one less arrow but also shot flawlessly.

  Abshoc graciously tilted his head my way. “We will use our friend”—I mouthed Kinan—“Kinan’s ability to judge the human’s.”

  Though I did not like his tone, I couldn’t argue with fact. My competitor-slash-potential ally was, in fact, a human. As for the other demons’ prejudice, some of that could be swayed right now with this trial. The rest, I would beat out of them if necessary.

  “Atkoy, we’re up.”

  Changing out the bow for the Glock under my arm, I rolled my head in a circle to relax the muscles. Bullets were different than arrows, having both pros and cons. As far as I knew, no one could effectively coat a single bullet in a battle scenario to counteract wards like I had with my arrow. However, the brute force impact of most large caliber bullets shattered shields and wards like a baseball bat to a windshield—from a longer range than an arrow. The bow required a little knowledge, a little finesse, to crack a shield. Guns were a sledgehammer, crashing through with no need for ability or Gifts. No better weapon for a human who couldn’t work energy or a Tuatha de who had been raised to appreciate results.

  Everyone seemed to be looking at me. Our warding demon had already rebuilt his shield. “Atkoy, how you wanna do this?”

  He stared at the target a moment before giving a single shrug. It looked like a mountain hiccupped, and the image caused me to grin. “Two shots to the head, one to the heart, center of each leaf of the clover, head of the squid and tip of each arm and tentacle, points of the star, and bullseye. Who here has the best eyesight?”