The Autumn Republic

Then why were they hunting him with air rifles? Only Hilanska would have been able to get ahold of so many air rifles in Adro. Only he would be able to gather this many Adran soldiers loyal enough to him that they’d be willing to go after a powder mage. I’ve killed Adran soldiers before, he reminded himself. General Ket’s vile soldiers, sent after him and Ka-poel. I can do it again.

The gravel shifted beneath his feet as he worked his way down to the top of the cascade. The sentry’s head turned slightly and the barrel of her air rifle came up. Taniel paused, his breathing shallow. An eternity seemed to pass until she lowered the barrel of her rifle back toward the ground and she turned to the east, looking down the length of the valley.

Taniel stepped into the stream and felt the cold water leak in through a hole in his boot. Stepping lightly, he worked his way toward the sentry. He put one hand to the end of his musket to unfasten the bayonet.

A cold sweat broke out on the nape of his neck. The bayonet wouldn’t budge. He twisted harder, but with no success.

He fought down a rising panic. He could still do this with his bare hands, but the lack of a weapon made it both less certain and more personal.

He set his musket carefully down on the bank of the stream and took three long steps forward, snaking one arm around the soldier’s neck and putting the other against the base of her spine. He squeezed instantly, flexing his arm to cut off the flow of air and blood to the brain.

She made a quiet choking noise and dropped her rifle with a clatter into the stream. Taniel’s heart leapt at the sound, and he watched over her shoulder for signs of alarm in the camp below them while he counted quietly in his head.

Twenty seconds for unconsciousness. Four minutes to be sure of a kill.

Her desperate clawing slacked off after just eight seconds. Taniel continued to count, and when it was apparent that no alarm would be raised, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Why should he spare any of these soldiers who were hunting him? If a single one lived through the night, they’d raise the alarm with the company back down the valley and Taniel would have two hundred men or more coming straight for him. For Ka-poel.

The soldier stopped struggling entirely at eighteen seconds. Taniel kept his grip tight, pulling her close. The killer’s embrace, Tamas had called it.

He felt moisture on his cheeks.

He remembered a time not so long ago, in the mountains far to the east of here, looking down the barrel of his rifle at his best friend, marked for death because he was a Privileged sorcerer.

At thirty seconds he let go of the woman, his rage not enough to fuel his strength. He let her sag in his arms and lowered her gently down to the bank of the stream.

A hand over her mouth felt her shallow breathing. Taniel cursed his weakness and made his way quickly down and around the camp. He paused once when one of the sleeping soldiers stirred, but the soldier merely mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, going back to sleep.

Taniel could hear his heart thumping in his ears. His original plan, tenuous at best, relied on removing the sentries and then killing them all in their sleep. Brutal, but efficient.

Now what could he do? They’d wake in the morning and find they’d been attacked. They would know they had found him, and what would his attack have accomplished? Nothing.

His steps became hurried and careless as he approached the second sentry from behind. A rock turned, the scree moved, and Taniel cursed out loud.

The man turned toward him, a question on his lips.

Taniel sprinted forward and slammed a fist against the base of the soldier’s jaw. Taniel snatched at the front of his uniform and caught his air rifle as it dropped. The man slumped to the ground.

Taniel examined the man at his feet as the moon flashed briefly from behind a cloud. The sentry’s features were soft, young, unworn by years on campaign. He looked about eighteen. A recruit?

He picked up the soldier’s air rifle, running his hands over the length. It had a long, smoothbore barrel not unlike a musket, with a firing mechanism where the flintlock would be and a rounded air canister instead of a stock. Terrible weapons to a powder mage, their expense and unreliability had kept them from becoming more common in the Kez army. Tamas had banned them completely from Adro.

To break the mechanism on the weapon was no terrible difficulty. But Taniel needed to send a message.

He held his hand up to the night sky, looking at the moonlight through the gaps in his fingers. He remembered killing those Adran soldiers-the Dredgers. Remembered putting his hand into the man’s mouth after he spoke of raping Ka-poel and curling his fingers around his teeth, grasping and pulling. He remembered feeling the tendons of the man’s jaw snap as he’d ripped his jawbone from his body.

And all of that without the powder. Only his rage and Ka-poel’s strange sorcery to spur him on.