Hordedoom

Hearing the command to stand down, Ashbringer unclenched her paw, and the body fell. The woman's face resembled a blur of recently heated wax; part of her lower jaw was missing. The warlord spat, ripped free the sword lodged in her armor, dropped it, and leveled a flamethrower at the remaining rabble. They turned off their crackling hammers and holstered their weapons, much to her profound disappointment.

"Ashbringer Pack, cease hostilities," she ordered. "Those grievously injured... Yes, I see you, Malcolm!" A male Wolfkin holding his spilled entrails twitched, no longer trying to retreat into the darkness. "To the doctors with you. The rest…" The flamethrower spat a burst of flame, heating her gauntlet, and she pressed the red-hot surface to the cut on her cheek, cauterizing it. "Step forth and claim your reward."

One by one, ninety Wolfkins approached her, proudly displaying their minor injuries and grinning foolishly at the hiss of cooked flesh as the vambrace kissed them. Ashbringer invented this ritual as a method of deception. Where more foolish warlords such as Martyshkina and Janine had to order their troops to visit the medics, and where the brutal cusacks like Alpha threw their weight around, terrifying their troops into submission, Ashbringer operated with both a claw and milk, inventing a tradition that could last long after the warlord was gone.

Burns soon disappeared from the Wolfkins as their natural regeneration cleaned up the damaged spots. But the incentive of participating in what they considered a sacred tradition prompted the hotheads to think twice about how to win without serious harm, to earn the dubious honor of having the most fire touches on them. The top ten called themselves the Braziers and had the privilege of being at the warlord's side in combat. Both the lower ranks and the shamans competed fiercely for this honor, often employing unusual innovations.

Ashbringer moved the vambrace over Lying One's neck laceration, wondering why it mattered so much to her troops. In her youth as a scout, she preferred not to waste precious freedom on stupid rituals and spent it on more worthwhile pursuits: copulating, bonding with her first soulmate, and asking mothers how to properly raise cubs.

And out of a stubborn sense of fair play, the injured went to the infirmary on their own accord, heads hung low. It freed her paw to concentrate on the few troublemakers willing to bend the established rules and keep them alive.

"Leave your weapons. They belong to me. Then take your own lot and tend to them," Ashbringer growled to the hordemen. The body on her feet convulsed, pawing at her leg and gurgling. "Better treat her first, or…"

"Mark… Me…" Widowmaker said, and Ashbringer kicked her away in disgust. "Why? It was… superb!"

Sorry, Arruda. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly. I failed to avenge you.

****

A blooming flower of sharp crimson sticks stopped short of Alpha. Manifested blades, hooks, and talons retracted into the bubbling fiery mass, and a blackened arm thrust through, dragging the rest of the skeletal body with it. Horkhudagh stopped, brazenly showing his sliced core to her gigantic claws, and shrugged.

"Tch," he said. "Almost." He looked at the battlefield, examining his dying leader and teasing her with his vulnerability. "We can still finish it if you want. Hit me and let us continue."

She couldn't. The order to stop all fighting was an absolute command, and Alpha had no way of resisting it. But he didn't need to know about it.

Their conflict had caused a large section of the wall to sink, sending friend and foe alike scattering to save themselves as the molten rivers poured down the walls from the uneven, crescent-shaped recess. Red-hot, steaming edges covered the whole place, and the arriving troops cursed, stepping carefully over the slippery, unstable surface and keeping their distance from the destroyed artillery out of worry of being caught in an accidental explosion of the munition.

"I'm tired of death," she lied. "Will we have a problem?"

"With me? No." Horkhudagh crossed the battlements and held out his arms, letting the approaching soldiers handcuff him. "What a lousy legend it turned out to be."

"War rarely produces anything else. Try creating another during peace." Alpha advised him.

****

Janine opened her eyes to the murmur of voices, her head splintering in pain, as if an unseen stonemason was slowly chiseling at it. She lifted her torso, finding herself carried on a specialized, reinforced stretcher through what remained of the western throughway. Her paws twitched reflexively, calming upon finding the trusting Taleteller next to her. Two Orais huffed, carrying her massive weight rather easily.

"Of course. She wakes up and immediately searches for a murder toy," snorted a field medic in a familiar voice. He shined a flashlight in her eyes without stopping the procession. Janine recognized Maxence through the visor before she noticed his artificial arm. "You're lucky, Janine. Numerous fractures. Occipital and parietal bones are sticking out, but damage to the brain matter itself is negligible." He jabbed a syringe into her neck, and the murky fog that clouded her vision dissipated a bit. "Your healing coma slowed down the heartbeat long enough for the body to recover and for us to perform blood transfusions and treat the worst of your injuries. Otherwise, you would have been dead. We need to get you out of this tomb and assess the extent of the damage to your internal organs."

"How…" she asked with a sore throat. "How long has it been… Anissa! Pack, Impatient One, Martyshkina, Jacomie!"

"Alive," Maxence reassured her, his artificial limb whining as he tried to keep her seated. "Not in the best condition, but Zero saved Anissa and Impatient One. The survivors of your pack are flocking to Ravager; the rest are scattered throughout the infirmaries. Jacomie has temporarily assumed command while Cristobo negotiates with the Horde leader. I suppose the war is over. You've been out less than half an hour. We are carrying you to join Lacerated One in the crawler. I had to saw through the bastard's arm that went through her when she killed him. Martyshkina is with her, winded to the point of immobility."

"Chak." Janine forcibly stopped the trembling in her paw. "In the battle, I received a report…"

"Sadly, it was accurate. Chak is no longer with us."

"And Anissa?"

"At the city hall, representing your pack in your absence."

"Then my place is there."

She brushed past his desperate efforts to restrain her, shrugging off the Orais' grip with ease. A single growl convinced both soldiers to step aside, and Janine attempted to mount the Taleteller on her back, only to fall as the magnetic clamps failed to activate due to the dead reactor. A broken piece of a window painted the thick bandages on her head and fresh stitches on her jaw and lips. She gave Maxence a nod of apology, collected her weapon, and headed for the source of the voices, navigating her way through Houstad.

It no longer resembled the glorious monument to the Reclamation Army's efforts. Rubble clogged the alleys, and entire streets had collapsed, exposing the broken pipes that ran beneath the roads. Smoking ruins replaced several tall skyscrapers, and a thick, shiny layer of scattered glass reflected the bright sun's rays, highlighting the gaping holes of shattered walls and broken windows.

Maxence refused to let her go alone. The man was on the verge of falling from exhaustion, and even his exoskeleton did little to support him. Janine picked him up unceremoniously, surprised at how heavy his small weight felt on her arm. Instead of jumping through a wide pool of water splashing in the crater ahead, Janine walked around the edge, accepting the sudden weakness and examining the devastation, ready to rush in and help.

Fortunately, the situation didn't require additional backup. Hundreds of specialized teams scoured the ruins, with the Third's instructors and seasoned veterans expertly warning the greener recruits of potential building collapses. Their former enemies, the hordemen, toiled by their side.

A Malformed with mouths on his shoulders dug himself through a pile of broken beams, eating himself a path to the trapped troops below, scooping them into his arms. He used the slabs of his own muscle to shield the people from the falling debris, stirred by his dive as he extracted his prize. An instructor kicked the giant for such recklessness and reluctantly praised the prisoner for his cleverness. Then he warned him of the dangers, pointing to the ruins and explaining how they could have buried the nearby crew. Heeding the veteran's advice, the unlikely allies slowed their efforts and methodically cleared the area to rescue a group of snipers.

To her surprise, there were several teams composed entirely of civilians. Maxence told Janine that they had come from the surrounding regions, telling the absolutely nonsensical stories of how Ravager had rescued them. The army had assigned them to help in the relatively safer neighborhoods near the Oathtakers' embassy.

"…Want to venerate me? Help with the restoration! Don't give me baubles that your flock can ill afford. Concentrate on their well-being! And the Spirits have nothing in common with the Planet. I am not your divinity! The next one who calls me a saint will be a eunuch!" Janine doubled her speed, hearing the Blessed Mother's voice.

They found Ravager on the main square, surrounded by the Sword Saints, warlords, and several wolf hags. Most injuries had disappeared from her, leaving only the exposed ribs, but her flesh moved like water, trying to close around the holes and restore the integrity of godlike perfection. On her shoulders was a scaled cloak of the Second, once worn by Devourer and, if the rumors spoke true, fashioned from his own shed skin. The faint symbol of a coiled serpent on it was still visible beneath the painted hare.

Dozens of officers and several civilian officials formed a temporary control center inside the city hall to assist the Inevitable's crew. Based on the three hordemen and two interpreters present in the hall, Janine assumed they were also trying to contact the occupied zone and mediate a surrender. That shouldn't be too difficult. Mad Hatter was the main unifying element of the Gilded Horde, and regardless of whether she was dead or alive, her defeat sent ripples that shook the confidence of her minions. Sure, it would be nice to murder those responsible for enslaving and killing, but that also meant potential deaths among the troops led by the Dynast and the approaching First and Second armies.

Meanwhile, Ravager was busy answering the petitioners, and in response to the aggression emanating from her, snouts peered out from the nearby streets. Anissa stood at a respectable distance from the warlords, using a cane to help her stand. Impatient One had a broken arm, and the tapestry of prayers on her ancient armor had been ruined in the battle.

Her furious snap whipped the Wolfkins into a laborious frenzy, and they practically tore apart a fallen skyscraper like a swarm of insectoids, finding bodies and a couple of survivors. Ravager's foot flattened an ornate platinum amulet offered to her by the grateful priest of the Planet. The man stood, bowing dignifiedly, his eyes gleaming. He turned to his group and, in a clear voice, ordered the ordinands and faithful to join the rescue workers in the north.

"Planning an escape?" Ravager's fangs chattered, biting her tongue, but the commander paid little attention to her own bleeding. Her claws flicked in and out. Alpha and Zero were almost glued to her, ready to try to restrain the Blessed Mother should the rage overtake her.

Stolen novel; please report.

"No," said a blackened skeleton, and a slice cut through his cuffs.

"Good. Find a communicator and obey Captain Jacomie as if she were me. But no fire." The skeletal head nodded, and the commander whirled to a group of ironclad warriors accompanied by a delegation in brown robes. "How can you help?"

"Sweet miracle of these precious lands, you shame us." Janine recognized a man who had persuaded her to spare Zulfiya. He dropped to his knees and presented Ravager with an open redwood box filled with jewelry and rubies. "We have been admitted to your presence and haven't yet lavished you with befitting offerings. Please accept this small token as our sincere apology."

"Am I supposed to eat that?" Ravager sniffed the gifts.

"Ah, unrivaled goddess, your jests soothe my heart as the darkness, the royal color of your magnificent fur, brings succor to weary people during the night," the man laughed obsequiously. "I agree. This is barely worth a minute of your heart-stealing beauty's attention. Our best artisans will immortalize you in the most exquisite onyx and amber..."

"Stop trying to woo me; we are not even the same size," mumbled Ravager. "Find another girl. How. Can. You. Help?" Her words interrupted the shocked man.

He gathered his robes around his legs and stood. "On my brother's orders, we rescued your kin …"

"Yes, yes, I've heard of it." Jaquan offered her the mayor's staff, and the maw jerked, stopping after Zero touched the Commander's back. With a trembling finger, Ravager silently ordered the mayor to join the officers seated at a square table.

"But what you aren't aware of is that my niece had also rescued a large number of the white ones using our own funds." First bowed his head at the news.

"Listen, if you want compensation, I have nothing." Ravager pulled at the skin on her thighs, bleeding herself. Zero clutched her arm, and the Blessed Mother ceased. "This is all I own. I think. I can't even give you this cloak. It's pretty, but it's not mine. Houstad's artifact of unity. Jaquan nicked it from a museum."

"Slander! I rescued it and gave it to you to inspire the people!" the mayor shouted.

"Thievery is not inspiring!"

"It depends on whom you ask, Commander! And I was within my rights!"

"We will pay, if that is your request," First said icily. "The Ice Fangs never forget our debts."

"My esteemed lords, ladies, and the merciful khatun, I fear that my immaturity in the mastery of your magnificent language has misled you. I never meant to imply that my masters have any need to compensate us for this deed…"

"Then we accept your gift." First smiled benevolently.

Never forget your debts and never miss a chance to weasel out of payment. Janine nodded to herself. In the past, she would've thought nothing of it, for what debts could be between kin? Today she took it as valuable information.

"This act of future generosity was merely to assure you of the Merchants' best intentions and our undying loyalty in these changing times. We plead for clemency and reasonable terms of our vassalage." The man shook when Ravager's arm blurred and her fingers tapped on her temple.

"I don't get it," Ravager said at last. "You are the third party, forced to serve the Gilded Horde…"

"Under the threat of subjugation, Commander," Dragena said. She alone stood without armor, covered up to the neck in bandages, and was sipping from a cup. A scout nearby held an electric kettle, readily refilling the cup.

"Yeah. And that chick…" Ravager tilted her head at Zulfiya. "Aided us. I let her keep the weapons. You did your best to avoid joining the war. There is no dispute between the Merchants and the Reclamation Army. Your integration will be through the standard diplomatic negotiations, not through vassalage like the Horde. Why are you trying to bribe me? How can I influence any of this? Do I look to you like I know anything about diplomacy? I can't judge you. But if you desire to show sincerity, there are ways." Ravager smiled sweetly, grabbed her knees to stop the shaking, and lowered her head to the merchant's eye level.

"I listen and obey."

"Provide us with detailed maps indicating the location of every nation that has been subjugated by Mad Hatter's madness. And it is no secret that her minions have already taken our people beyond our borders. If, say, a certain enterprising individual should happen to know, by sheer accident, of course, the whereabouts of the slavers who bought the prisoners…"

"Say no more, gentle globeflower." The man returned the smile. "It'll be my utmost pleasure to water your troubles."

Ravager bristled, losing the charm. "I've had enough of your fountain of honeyed flattery. What can you do to help Houstad?"

"Our sensors are acute enough to pick up breaths and life signs around the battlefield and in the hollow spaces underground," Zulfiya replied. "And my siblings are physically strong…"

"The Merchants also possess a wide range of construction equipment and well-trained personnel, my pearl of void," the representative added. "With but a hint that it'll be to your satisfaction, we are ready to assist however we can. Naturally, our infirmaries are open to accommodate our most tolerant allies."

"What are you standing here then for?" Ravager sliced herself from the bridge of her nose all the way to the scalp. "I'll do you one better than give you a hint. Off to work! Jaquan! Assign to them someone important."

"Yes, Khatun!" Zulfiya saluted.

"Maxence, go join the officers," Janine whispered, sighing at his piercing gaze. "We both know that you are running on fumes…"

"And you are not?"

"I am gassed out too," Janine admitted. "But I can endure that. Listen, it is wonderful what you are pulling off, and I am grateful for every life you have saved. Now tell me, while placing a paw on your heart, will you be of any use when you pass out? Among them, your advice can be invaluable, and it's not like you can operate until you've had eight hours of sleep and a snack."

"A shower would be nice, too. Fair." Maxence sighed. "Just don't do anything reckless."

"When have I ever done that?"

"You want me to bring up the receipts, or you…"

Janine hurried to the Blessed Mother, red in the snout as the doctor snorted. Zulfiya and her uncle passed her by, and the woman barely glanced at the warlord. Ravager continued to lead her court, accepting allegiance and surrender from the former enemies in the name of the state and immediately assigning them to aid in the rescue effort.

"Told you to be blunt with her." Janine heard Zulfiya say.

"The new Khatun is rather… direct," her uncle agreed. "Quite a pageantry she is and no showmanship whatsoever. It'll be unusual to negotiate with her. But so far, not unpleasant."

"Janine. Welcome." Ravager blinked, gesturing with a claw to prevent her from kneeling. "You are hurt. Many are hurt," she said in realization. "Zero, do you think if they bring them away from the whitecoats I can…"

"No," the warlord said sternly, taking her by the paw. "Too excited. I can see it rolling in your eyes. A nudge and heads will fly."

"Damn it." Ravager hung her head. "Useless."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You kept your cool for so long, didn't hurt any allies, and saved people." Zero patted her. "It was impressive progress. I am so proud of you!"

"Not enough." Ravager clenched her fist, piercing her palms with the claws. Zero took her by the paws, stopping her. "Far too little."

"We can't carry every burden by ourselves, Commander." Janine groaned from the pain in her back as she tried to bow. "It's something I had to learn the hard way. Dragena, is there any news about Marco? Is the convoy with him and our kin on their way to Stormfiend, or are they returning? I need to find Trace and…"

"Marco is no more," Alpha said, and Ravager stirred, turning to her. "His health failed. I supervised his farewell ritual."

No more. What? It doesn't make any sense. Fur rose on Janine's nape; her broken fingers clenched the Taleteller. It was impossible. He made it. They were going to restore his legs and eyes; she had found the means. She was willing to sell her soul if necessary. He had to be fine. No. No!

Reality seemed to crumble around her. Her dreams and hopes turned to the sickening smell of decay. The joyful reunion slipped out of reach. Did anything they'd done matter in the end? Please tell me. Someone. Anyone. She looked around blindly at everyone: the sorrowful Normies, the blasted hordemen, her sisters, the Blessed Mother, and finally at the gathered white-furred liars.

They. Her nostrils widened. It was their fault. They swore to protect him, to watch over the little one, and she had bled; her soldiers died to rescue their cubs, and these wretched, traitorous, arrogant, selfish scum had failed her. Worse, they had let him die. Her anger overflowed when she found Bertruda, who dared to imitate a remorseful expression and opened her lying mouth to dare to speak.

The shamans shouted orders to stop and lunge to restrain her, but she shrugged them off and rammed the traitor's chest. The weight of her armor vanished from Janine's body, and she pile-driven Bertruda into the dais, toppling the structure and shaking the entire square. Her fingers screamed in agony after a single haymaker that broke the arrogant bitch's nose, but the warlord didn't care, punching the sword saint repeatedly in her head.

"Come on!" She roared. "Fight me!"

"Janine, I will never raise a weapon to harm you again," Bertruda said through broken fangs, not bothering to block.

"Right, because you know you can never win!" Her fist turned into hot fire, and Janine elbowed the woman. "Despised us! Cheated and challenged me while I was injured! Caused Melina to die because your kind refused to listen! I killed Bogdan because of you! Your treachery hurt Ignacy! And now Marco! You've cost me my beloved son! We did our best, and yet you never stopped that shot. You think I don't know why, you wretched bitch?!" She swung her arm, slamming it with full force into Bertruda's chest, shattering the chest plate, and creating a wide crater around them. The Sword Saint spat blood, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was. Janine raised the axe. "My family will no longer suffer at your filthy paws! Your treacherous nature will not take away the sons and daughters of the Wolf Tribe!"

"Warlord Janine, step away from Sword Saint Bertruda!" First's searing blade burned the fur on her elbows. "Or lose your arms."

"First. You step away." Alpha advanced, claws pointed at him, and a tinge of fear washed over them. "Hurt my sister, and it will be to the death."

"I will not allow murder to happen," the grandmaster said.

"You didn't prevent the deaths of Eled and Predaig. Why start now?" the strongest warlord teased. "Is it because your kind is the one on the receiving end for once?"

The Wolf Tribe and the Ice Fangs prepared for battle, ignoring Bertruda's pleas to stop. Janine didn't care if the woman asked them to stop or if she asked the others not to interfere. It didn't matter. The Sword Saint had torn her family apart. Bogdan's cubs will never meet their father again. Marco will never be happy with a soulmate. His smile, his dreams were gone. The dead of her own pack could not be left unavenged.

Wolfkins rushed back to the square, ready to back up their warlords, and the Ice Fangs closed ranks around their leaders, readying weapons. Maxence yelled to Janine to stop, Jaquan pleaded for both sides to sit and mediate, and the soldiers of the Third turned to the commander for guidance. A low growl halted the aggression, preventing violence.

"Janine," Ravager's voice stopped the strike. "I'm the last person to say this, but killing a defenseless person isn't heroic. It isn't even righteous." She spoke slowly, forcing every sentence out. "It is an insult. To our oaths to reclaim our planet, to those we've lost, and to the world we want to build. I hate myself every time I lose control. The world doesn't need any more monsters. It doesn't need any more of me. But I understand your pain. Standing here, you have a choice. You can be free of the war and become a civilian, honoring the fallen by living. You can betray their memory and try to kill a non-tribal, breaking the state's laws. If you try it, I'll kill you. Or you can uphold our promises and continue serving. So many choices. Choose what you want to be, shadow mine," she finished wearily.

A twitch irritated Janine's temples; the memories of her dead cub haunted her as she watched Bertruda, furious at her refusal to resist or answer the challenge. She had to die. For the pain that she had caused with her actions, she had no right to keep going on. Bogdan, Marco, Eled, Predaig, Melina, Arruda, and many more no longer had that privilege because of the betrayal. How could she let it, how could she forgive and…

Blood streaked from the alley. The dead Ice Fang cub. The resurfaced memories stopped her blow. That cub… he was also someone's offspring. If she were to murder Bertruda and die, who would protect and stop atrocities from happening? What kind of scum will she become if she kills an outsider on a day of peace? How could she ever explain it to Marco in the Great Beyond? No, peace was not for her.

And neither was vengeance.

"I serve." Janine cried, unashamed of her tears, and dropped the Taleteller. She stepped forward, not caring if First would slash her or if Bertruda would stab her in the back. The warlord limped over to Anissa and Impatient One, grabbing both in a hug. "Forgive me," she whimpered. "But I don't want to become a complete monster. I want to hope. That one day... one day!"

"Mom" Anissa hugged her tighter. "It's okay."

"You made the right choice, Warlord." Impatient One kept her voice steady, but her cheeks were wet with tears. "If we break our promise to the Dynast, we will be no better than the Horde or the Ice Fangs."

"Blessed Mother. I can't become anyone else." Janine lifted her head to see a flash of fear in Ravager's eyes. The commander clasped a paw to her chest. "To the end of my days, I am a soldier of the Dynast, a butcher of foes, and the protector of our citizens. That is all I will ever be. Punish me as you wish for my outburst."

"There..." Bertruda croaked, taking First's paw to get up. Her tattered cloak remained on the ground. "There is no need for any punishment. I have wronged and offended you. Janine, we will talk later…"

"Shut up."

"You need to go to the infirmary…"

"Shut. Up! You promised me that Marco would be fine. Liar in every sense of the word!"

"The Spirits speak through the warlord!" Impatient One broke from the embrace and addressed the Wolfkins. "The Blessed Mother had ordered the Ice Fangs to obey Warlord Dragena. They disobeyed and left us in the dark. We forgive them for it!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, silencing the calls for revenge. "We forgive the deaths of the Warlords Eled and Predaig; we forgive them for our lost kin. For we are not without sin!" She walked boldly before the ranks. "We entrusted them with what was most precious to us, a healthy cub. He returned to us a maimed hero and soon succumbed. Marco. Remember this name. We forgive them for that too, but we will never forget! The Ice Fangs are no longer welcome in our villages. Not one of them is our kin anymore. Trust them at your peril. Warn the cubs. The union is ruined by their own paw!"

"By their own paw!" The packs howled, mourning their lost kinship.

Janine added her voice to theirs. The shamans knew best. She was a fool to doubt them.