Fireteam Delta Read online

  He just hoped he wouldn’t need to add anyone to that list.

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  Asle had climbed her way into the crow’s nest, looking out at the ocean that surrounded them.

  She watched as Ms. Cortez and Orvar sparred at the back of the ship. They’d been doing that a lot lately. She thought it might be the woman’s way of dealing with being stuck on the ship for so long, but after a while, Asle understood that it was just fun for her. The small smile of satisfaction on her face seemed to reinforce that idea.

  Asle took a deep breath as the ocean rolled past them. It was peaceful up here, but it was also boring. After a few seconds, she began to make her way down to the deck.

  As she landed, she noticed the group was taking bets on the fight, and that Bard seemed to be winning.

  Nowak glanced over to Asle as she sat.

  “And what about you, little lady? Who do you think’s going to win?”

  Asle had come to appreciate Nowak a little more these past few weeks. She’d noticed that the man went out of his way to try to keep the group’s spirits up. Especially after what had happened with Summers. She’d wager the betting was something he’d started to give them all a distraction, even if only a small one.

  “Ms. Cortez,” Asle replied plainly.

  In truth, Orvar only won maybe one in five of his fights with Cortez, so it wasn’t an unreasonable guess.

  And as she expected, Orvar failed to block a blow from Cortez, sending the man sprawling to the ground. Cortez leaned over, offering him a hand a second later.

  Bard pushed the pile of coins over to Viggo, who deposited it into a bag between them. She was fairly sure the twins just pooled their money. That wasn’t an uncommon thing to do with families, but it did make the bet all the stranger.

  “Whoever bet against me is next.” Cortez approached the group, breathing hard.

  Asle pointed a finger at Nowak.

  “Nope, screw that.” Nowak put his hands up in mock surrender.

  Cortez moved to him and tried hauling Nowak to his feet. The playful smile on her face must not have gone unnoticed by Orvar, as he started to head over.

  “I’m ready to go again, Teacher.” Orvar gave Cortez a slight bow.

  Cortez stopped what she was doing and arched an eyebrow, though she managed to catch the motion quickly.

  “You know,” Cortez spoke in English, glancing in Asle’s direction as she did, “he’s cute, but I’m not really into the jealous type.”

  The blush that Orvar tried to hide told Asle that he’d picked up enough English to piece that together.

  “Come on, big guy,” Cortez finished. “Let me show you how to really fuck a fella up.”

  Orvar swallowed, and Asle felt a little bad for the man.

  As she watched them go, she allowed herself a small sigh. They only had a few more days on the ship, and she knew that their time together was coming to an end.

  They’d been the only people she’d met since she’d lost her family who had seen her. Who had tried to know her. And they’d be leaving without her if she did nothing.

  It was only a matter of time.

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  Summers stretched as the others made their way on deck. It had been nearly three weeks since they’d last seen civilization. Come what may, he was at least glad they’d be getting off the boat soon.

  Their next port was their last, one of the few that stood this far south. Summers watched as the foggy coast came into focus. The others were just as eager to get back onto dry land.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Nowak cautioned. “Still a long road ahead of us.”

  “Yeah . . .” Summers agreed. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to distract from the dull ache building in his head.

  “You all right?” Nowak looked at him, concerned.

  “Just something weird about the air here.”

  That was a bit of an understatement. Summers felt as if his skin were vibrating, but that was low on his list of concerns.

  “Be careful.” Summers heard the captain say from behind him. “The spirits are uneasy here. I can tell that you feel it too.”

  Summers eyed the man. He’d stayed mostly to himself for the entire trip, but Summers was smart enough to know that warnings should never be taken lightly. Even if they came from possibly insane elves.

  “What makes you say that?”

  The captain put a hand to his chin in thought.

  “At this time of day, there should be fishermen at work, children at play. The buildings stand, so it’s no conflict, but I see no one. This isn’t normal.”

  Summers considered that as they approached.

  The large village was quiet, but as they got closer, he realized the captain’s warnings were not entirely unfounded.

  “Sarge, you loaded?” Summers turned to the others, checking them over.

  The man nodded in response. Cortez moved to warn the others as the village came into view.

  It was the same as many of the other towns they’d come across, and the captain had been wrong: there were people milling around at the town’s center. Most in armor, with spears in their hands.

  That in itself wasn’t what worried him. No, it was the figures they saw hanging from the trees. A dozen, maybe more. Summers would hesitate to call them elves. Even from this distance, he could see their odd features, their skin an assortment of colors—some even looked to have fur or scales. Horns like those Summers had become intimately familiar with only a short time ago were attached to the head of a man hanging from the town’s center.

  Summers watched as the people in the town reacted to their approach, moving to the long dock that lay in front of them. He took a breath, and double-checked his appearance.

  Whatever happened here, one thing seemed certain. If he wasn’t careful, things could easily get messy.

  Chapter 36: Changes

  “We can’t thank you enough for getting us here.”

  Summers bowed to the captain in front of him. The man returned his bow stiffly.

  “It was my pleasure . . .” The captain straightened, looking Summers in the eye. “We’ll be leaving in just a few hours. You won’t have to worry about us at all.”

  Summers wasn’t sure how that was supposed to reassure him, but he nodded all the same, waving the other sailors goodbye before heading toward the long dock at his back.

  Looking up, he saw a man hanging from a tree near the port. He had long claws on his hands, not unlike a cat’s, with small, bone-like structures crisscrossing along his chest.

  Summers again ensured that the tunic he wore was securely tied on. He hadn’t attempted to remove the rest of the hard, gray skin or spines that covered his torso and legs. They didn’t impede his movement too much, and with his sense of pain now back in full force, it wasn’t high on his list of priorities. But that could change here very soon.

  Their arrival into port had been mostly made without issue, the townspeople more than welcoming to their small ship. But they still had one major problem.

  The bodies that were hung as warning signs to outsiders were more than just mutants. Summers looked up once more at the ears of the man hanging closest. They were round, human ears.

  This man had, at some point, been one of their own. Maybe even someone who had gone through exactly what Summers had.

  Maybe they’d been driven crazy by the hamr; Summers couldn’t imagine the locals would be able to take down actual soldiers. Not if they still had their weapons. He had to assume these men were deserters, or people who had been lost like they were. Or something else entirely. Either way, he supposed they at least had a lead. If there were more like them still around, they might finally be able to get some answers.

  Synel approached Summers as he departed the ship.

  “I’ve spoken to the captain and his men. I can assure you that none will be spreading rumors anytime soon.” Synel offered Summers her hand as he stepped
onto the dock.

  It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. The last time they’d been in town, the merchants they’d traveled with had more or less destroyed any semblance of cover they had. Apparently, Synel had learned from, and foreseen, a similar situation here.

  Synel gave him a half smile, seeing the understanding on his face.

  “I hope not, anyway. Had to employ some very colorful language, and I’d hate for you to have to follow up on those threats.” Synel eyed the captain behind her.

  Summers nodded in understanding. He had noticed the man looked a little anxious. Now, he knew why.

  Still, at least her heart was in the right place. Sort of. If the hanging bodies were any indication, the locals probably would not take kindly to Summers’ recent changes either.

  “Don’t suppose you have any friends we can talk to here?” Summers eyed the woman.

  “It depends . . .” Synel walked beside him toward the village proper. “What would you constitute as a friend?”

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  “He’s a slave merchant.”

  Synel led the group through the small marketplace that lay at the city’s center. She’d explained that this far south, she wasn’t familiar with many locals. However, she did know one man who happened to trade between the various cities of the north and south using one of the few resources neither would deny.

  Synel had clarified that she’d often act as a courier for men like him, buying the freedom of his “wares” with coin the families sent. Many were simply sold into slavery after battles between cities, debt, or more often, as the prizes of duels between affluent houses.

  Though Summers had never met the man, he could tell they were not going to get along. But he could be someone who could help them.

  Asle had wandered off, along with Nowak, and had found some information on the town’s “décor.” The bodies hung from the trees and walls were those of invaders, or maybe more like bandits—possibly even monsters, given how the armed townsfolk seemed to regard them. They’d shown up in droves throughout the night over the past few weeks, some more bestial than human, attacking anything that moved. They were faster and stronger than most of the elves; however, they were badly outnumbered, and an arrow would still kill a man no matter how strong or fast he was.

  That wasn’t to say they’d gotten off easy, though. Asle had learned that more than a third of the town had been lost defending against just ten of these enemies. Summers was only thankful the infected soldiers hadn’t brought weapons, or they’d have arrived to another smoking crater in the ground.

  Eventually, they found themselves at a stall not unlike the others. The man behind it—a skinny elf with long, greasy dark hair—greeted Synel with a bow.

  “Mr. Fritjof . . .” Synel returned the bow.

  “Ms. Synel, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He glanced to Summers and the others, inclining his head to them. “Would this be a business-related, or personal visit?”

  “We were hoping you may be able to help us.” Synel gestured to Summers. “My friends are mercenaries looking for work. I believed you might know something about the local . . .” Synel paused. “Landscape for such things.”

  “Unless you’re in need of my wares, I’m afraid I can’t be of much service.”

  Synel paused at that, glancing at Summers.

  He understood the meaning. Synel had warned them that most merchants were less than charitable. It was clear the man wanted payment before he started talking.

  And Summers was not about to make that kind of a deal. New world’s laws or not, he did not want to be the kind of man who helped assholes like this.

  “We’re not interested . . .” Summers started.

  “How can you know before you’ve seen what I have?” Fritjof pressed. “In fact, I’ve recently acquired a prisoner from one of the past few battles. A strange woman, with an even stranger strength. Surely warriors of your stature would be interested in such a specimen.”

  Summers blinked, looking back at Synel.

  “Tell me more . . .”

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  Fritjof led the group through a small warehouse in the back of town. It had been heavily guarded as they made their way to a small basement filled with smaller, bricked-off rooms. They looked more like medieval jail cells than anything.

  “As for where they’re coming from, I can only tell you it’s somewhere east of here. The fools hardly say a thing and speak gibberish otherwise. From what I’ve heard in other towns, they seem to just be wandering out there on their own.” The man tapped at the side of his head. “I think it may be a sickness of the mind.”

  Summers tilted his head. The man wasn’t far off with that guess.

  “But this . . .” Synel struggled with the word. “This merchandise you’ve acquired, has it said anything?”

  “As I said, only gibberish. I don’t see any value in her as a worker, but if stories are to be believed, she would make a fine addition to any arena, as I’m sure your friends are familiar with. The novelty alone . . .”

  Fritjof led them to a small alcove at the end of the hall. Beside it, Summers saw small stone chips scattered beside the wall. The merchant must have noticed him looking, because he spoke up a moment later.

  “She’s proven quite . . . difficult to control, but she is a warrior of the upmost quality.”

  Fritjof moved to the cell door, pulling out a key as guards moved from behind Summers, spears ready. As he opened the door, Summers saw a woman in army fatigues slumped up against the far wall, chains covering her from head to toe. Her eyes were a solid black, with long, spider-like limbs growing from her back and almost impossibly thin frame.

  “Home . . .”

  Summers could hear the woman whispering to herself from where he stood. Her gaze was unfocused, staring down at her own legs as she repeated the word.

  “Home . . .”

  Summers took a deep breath before he spoke.

  “How much?”

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  “If this thing’s started rewriting her mind, why’d it bother with the extra . . . parts?” Cortez stared at the four legs that jutted from the woman’s back.

  They’d found a small home they’d rented for the night. While an inn may have been big enough for their small group, it was far too public for what they had in mind.

  “I don’t know.” Summers looked at the woman. She’d been silent the entire trip there. “Maybe it’s a survival thing. Maybe it wants to maximize the odds its ‘host’ lives.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to keep them the same, then?” Cortez replied.

  “Or maybe it’s just to make them better killers,” Nowak suggested. “You saw what that thing was like in the city. And you said it needed bodies. Didn’t say they needed to be alive.”

  “Right.” Summers sat in the small couch of the living room. “Even so, I don’t think the hamr was supposed to be a weapon.”

  “What part of this thing doesn’t sound like a weapon to you?” Cortez asked.

  “It can rewrite a person’s brain on the fly. With that kind of technology, do you really think we’d stand a chance against an actual, real weapon?”

  “Fair point,” Cortez conceded.

  Summers put a hand on his head. They’d sent the twins to guard their slowly shrinking stash of weapons outside. Pat and Orvar stood at the back of the house, watching the woman as she sat in a chair against the far wall.

  She hadn’t said a word since they’d brought her there. Or done much of anything, really. They’d kept the chains on her; whether or not she was from their world, they weren’t taking chances. They’d been speaking English the entire time they’d been in the house, and the woman hadn’t reacted at all. She hadn’t even blinked.

  “Do you think you can do your thing on her, Summers?” Cortez wondered, gesturing to her head.

  Summers considered the woman in front of him.

/>   “I already looked at her . . .” Summers noticed the others staring at him. “Look, I can sort of feel where it is when I put my hand on her head. It’s . . . there’s so much of it. I’d just be tearing out her brain at this point.”

  “So, what do we do with her, then?” Cortez moved forward, snapping her fingers in front of the woman’s face. She didn’t react.

  Summers noticed Asle staring from the other side of the room. She was frowning.

  “Asle, what are you thinking?”

  “I think she can hear us,” Asle stated.

  Summers glanced at the girl, then back to the soldier. She hadn’t moved in the slightest.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “She stopped talking when she heard us talk.” Asle pointed a finger at the woman. “She knows we can understand her.”

  Summers eyed the woman again. What Asle said might be true, but at the same time, it didn’t change anything.

  “So, what now?” Summers looked to the others. “Whether she’s staying quiet on her own or not, it’s not like we can bring her along.”

  “Well, we can’t just set her free. And at the same time, we can’t kill her,” Nowak stated.

  “Why not?” Asle asked.

  The others looked at her in shock.

  “I think what Asle is trying to say is that the life of a slave is not a . . . happy one.” Synel put an arm on Asle’s shoulder. “Many would prefer death, if they had a choice.”

  “For what it’s worth, I agree with the kid.” Cortez raised her hands. “She’s basically dead already. Torture isn’t an option and probably wouldn’t do jack shit and like you said, she’s too dangerous to bring along. What other options do we got?”

  “We’re not killing one of ours.”

  “Sarge . . .” Cortez protested.

  “End of discussion,” Nowak stated flatly. “We’ll take her back to the slaver in the morning. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s the best we have.”

  “I’m sure we can convince him to take back his . . . merchandise,” Synel agreed. “At a steep discount.”

  Asle didn’t look happy, but she said nothing. Summers wasn’t sure he agreed, but he kept his silence as well.