Deadman - Book 3 Chapter 40: The Wounded and the Dead

I carved my way through another Remnant as I bolted down Medina’s alleys toward where I’d estimated the jump troops had dropped. I stabbed through a third power-armored troop, and a bullet hit the wall next to me. I looked toward where the shot had come from to see a wide eyed, scared Deadman looking at me.

“Sorry- I just thought-”

I tackled him to the ground, a bolt of lasfire hitting my shoulder before I landed.

“Work on your aim, and don’t let your guard down,” I said as I began moving further into Medina, past the defensive lines.

There were a few more close calls, but no other defenders took any shots at me as I moved, the majority of them having fought with me in the recent ambushes if not sooner. I didn’t see anyone else breaking off to protect the Khan as I was, but I assumed they were either ahead of me, too hard pressed in their defense to do anything, thought whatever guards they left behind could cover him, or some combination of all of those factors.

The sound of fighting faded behind me, and started to rise in the direction I was moving. The scent of gunpowder and death was wreaking havoc on my sense of smell, but now that I was closer I could tell there were at least fifteen to twenty humans in front of me.

I broke through an alley to the sight of a dozen of the Khan’s personal guards, and one of his wives, Fen, fighting desperately against the power armored assailants, defending a building with their lives.

The moment I arrived one of them broke through the door.

I let out a roar and threw myself at the nearest of them, slamming my sword onto the top of his head with so much force that I nearly bisected him. The power in the sword chose that moment to reach its limit and I left it buried in the corpse, immediately lunging toward the next one with my bare hands.

He stabbed at me with his stave, but I maneuvered around him, grabbed his arm, and threw him to the ground. His jump pack activated, seemingly against his will, and he was launched screaming into the air, clipping a roof as he flew toward Medina’s outer wall.

Fen was lifted by the neck by one of the armored invaders, and she lifted her knife from her boot and jammed it into the eye-lens of his power suit, earning a scream from its occupant as she was thrown against a wall.

While he screamed and writhed I moved behind him and snapped his neck. The last of them was brought down by the sheer weight of gunfire brought to bear by the Khan’s remaining guards.

I moved past the fight and into the building myself, hoping I wasn’t too late to save the Khan from getting murdered in his sickbed. I saw several dead servants, and Sara, who I’d just recently cleared of betraying the Khan, a hole in her chest and a blank look in her eyes. I saw a door open with blood pooled on the ground and leapt through it, ready to kill.

What I found was the Khan, panting, as he stood above the still form of his would be assassin, a wicked looking sawed off shotgun with a bayonet affixed to it in his hand, dyed crimson with blood.

The Khan absently rubbed his now empty eye socket absentmindedly. “That explains why my aim was off.” He looked up at me. “Donovan.” He looked around. “If you’re here I don’t suppose there’s much left to kill.”

…

Once I was certain the Khan was safe, I made my way back to where the defenders were holding and found that the siege had been broken. Those that had breached the walls had been killed to a man as they’d been smashed between us and the defenders. From there we’d moved out to the walls to find what was left of the Remnants forces broken and retreating. There were still hundreds of them out there, but they’d been thrown into such disarray that recovery was impossible.

I spent the rest of the day helping to clear out whatever pockets of resistance were left, then assisted in several of the Horde attack runs on those Remnants that had managed to retreat. The Remnants had underestimated the wastes, thinking they could break the Horde, Rens, Pott’s, and the Kaijin, but had instead had their own forces broken. Our victory had not come without a cost, our forces had taken significant losses and the Remnants themselves would no doubt be able to rally their forces and raise more of them. STAR territory had always been populous, and with the addition of the Remnant tech and fanatical Republic manpower the war was certainly far from over. I kept those thoughts to myself of course, and let my allies enjoy themselves.

When I returned to Medina, I found the Khan standing in the city’s square, looking over the dozens of bodies covered in white sheets, several men and women painting the runes, gears, and other symbols that represented honor and rank within the horde. I noticed one in particular being decorated by several of the Khan’s wives, and realized that his own hand was stained black from the oil used to paint. I watched as he knelt at each body, draw a small rune, then moved on to the next one. His eye socket was bleeding through a fresh bandage, and the pain must have been intense, but in spite of that he didn’t waver or stumble, just kept moving from body to body and giving it his personal mark of honor.

I approached him carefully, watching and waiting for him to finish what he was doing. My teeth had been itching since the fighting had ended. First the Khan is caught in the crossfire and shot by his own people, then a group of jetpacked Remnants flies straight toward where he lies in his sickbed, facing little resistance. It didn’t add up. It was certainly possible for it to have been a mixture of bad luck and good planning on the Remnants part, but I didn’t buy that, and I needed to discuss it with the Khan.

He didn’t acknowledge me until he finished marking the very last body with his personal mark. He turned and started walking, gesturing for me to follow him. I complied, and we made our way through Medina and toward where I’d so recently found him after he’d overpowered his would-be assassin. As we entered the room, he gestured for his guards to leave. They hesitated, clearly concerned for his health, which earned them a glare that sent them, not scurrying as that would be too undignified, but certainly moving as fast as their pride would allow.

Once the Khan and I were alone, he collapsed into the nearest chair and began panting heavily. The color visibly drained from his face, and he sagged in the seat.

I reached into my pack, grabbed my canteen, and offered it to him. He took it, and took a few sips, sitting for a few moments before he started to regain his composure. After a few moments he started drumming his fingers on a nearby table, weakly at first, but slowly building into making steady audible thuds on it.

“Those gun emplacements STAR was using… they may work on top of some of our heavier vehicles, and if they dont we can certainly find any other uses. I’ll need to make a decision about whatever prisoners were taken as well. Could have them quartered, do a siege of our own and crucify them in front of the enemy, have them fired out of a cannon over their ramparts…”

“All good ideas.”

He looked at me shaking his head. “Thoughts are scattered. Still waking up, feel,” he tightened his hand into a fist, “weak.” He looked me in the eye. “What did you want?”

“Your wound, do you remember what caused it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. I remember riding ahead of the group, feeling one of those black booted bastards crushed beneath my tires. My raiders changed formation for some reason, I assumed some element of the battle I couldn’t see in the midst of the enemy…then blackness.” He took a finger and reached for the area his eye had been. “I was told it was friendly fire.” He looked at me, seeing my inquisitive expression. “You believe otherwise?” he asked.

“I think I need to investigate the possibility. I had a bad feeling about it, but once I saw how quickly the Remnants were able to locate you… I need to determine whether or not you have a mole.”

He shook his head. “After what happened the last time? I oversaw the deaths of all traitors myself. Mounted my former wife’s head on a spike. Betrayal so soon after witnessing its price… it feels unlikely.”

“Even if it’s not a betrayal, the Remnants may have other ways to manipulate and deceive. Tools we don’t know about. Rooting out either a traitor or a method will have value.”

He nodded. “Let it be done then. You are my Marshal, you still have my authority and may use it as you see fit to find the information you desire.”

I nodded, and went to leave the room.

“Donovan.”

I paused and turned around to look at the Khan.

“Wait here with me for a moment. We spoke once of the necessity of pageantry. Aid me in not showing my people weakness now. If they think I am alone here resting, they may begin to feel fear for me, pity, I can not allow that.”

I nodded, and sat at the table across from him, taking out my weapons and ammo to inventory and clean.

After a few moments, the Khan grabbed my 9mm and began taking it apart to clean himself. Even resting he needed to keep his hands busy.