“Nothing to say? No st brave words, no clever quip, not even a simple hello?” Brood Lord asked sweetly, hurling the corpses from his swords at Janine. The bodies broke upon her pte. “Your indifference hurts me, Janine. I thought we shared a bond. You took my boys; I killed your whelps, and only one of us cared…” He sighed. “But every game comes to an end. And in ours, the loser dies.”

  Janine didn’t answer, holding her head up and barely breathing. She heard an engine, and a hoverbike rode near Brood Lord. Its rider held a spear rather than a pulse rifle and licked his lips, gring madly at the warlord. The bastard reeked of a sickeningly sweet narcotic. Probably a drug to enhance aggression or ignore pain.

  “She’s done for, Khan.” The hordeman nodded at the state of Janine’s armor and the weapons lodged in it. “Can’t even move anymore. No need to fear.”

  “You want her?” Brood Lord asked in the same honey tone, not betraying a hint of irritation, but the orange irises rose from behind his regur ones. The rider snickered. “Go ahead. Take her.”

  The hoverbike screamed through the air, racing up the slope. The rider pointed his crackling spear at the unmoving target when the warlord suddenly sprang into action. She sliced through the air, hard enough to roll several corpses down, and simply crushed the rider, reducing him to a bloody smear that stained the stones and his engine to mere wreckage. Janine leaned forward, breathing hard.

  “Choices, everyone!” Brood Lord cpped with his pincers. “Our friend here has made a grave pse in judgment. From interrupting me to forgetting that a beast is at its most dangerous when it is cornered. He thought he knew better. Is anyone willing to follow his example?” He gnced to the right and left and smiled. “Excellent. I understand the temptation and the lust for glory. I truly do! But the price of a wrong choice is death. Do remember who has kept you alive until today. Ready your weapons, everyone. Let’s cripple this recalcitrant girl. Don’t worry about hitting her in the head; I am sure she can survive it. On my mark, happy hunting…”

  Brood Lord reacted the second he heard a snap, surprising even Janine. His cocky, casual posture immediately changed, and he turned, raising the curved sword to shield his visor. A hail of projectiles smmed into his leaping bulk, damaging his mechanical legs and shredding parts of his armor. His human hand closed around the handle of his personal cannon as the ranks of his warriors shifted in violence.

  It was as if a hurricane had descended upon a calm sand sea. Ripples ran through the ranks as several groups broke formation, clinging to their comrades as if to better view the execution, then suddenly opened fire. Some of the shield carriers moved, narrowing the field of protection around the rebels and using it to shove away the loyalists. Transports rolled over the surprised hordemen.

  Several Malformed rammed their fists into their comrades, spewing acid at the hordemen to the surprise of their mewling kin. The rest of the giants staggered, unsure of what to do. Soldiers stabbed and murdered those near them; banners were torn down and set abze as grenade unchers fired. None of it was without purpose. A circle of fire split the center of the enemy battle group, sending the defectors streaming toward a rising wooden pole from which a new banner was unfurled. It bore the symbol of the Recmation Army: an iron gauntlet grasping the world, and below it was painted a fiery Wolfkin skull, the personal emblem of Ashbringer, sharing space with a pair of muscled arms.

  True to their nature, the confusion sted briefly, and the officers snapped orders, preparing to end the rebellion. Here and there, the sneak attacks had failed; either the shots had failed to penetrate the suits, or the loyalists had sensed an impending betrayal and unched themselves into violence.

  The khan nded up closer to the ridge, away from his host. Nimbly, he took cover behind the wreckage of a tank.

  “For the true khatun!” Caikhatu screamed, holding the pole and firing his pulse rifle at Brood Lord. “Down with the loser! Those who wish to thrive join the great Ashbringer! The rest shall burn!”

  “A mole? Huh, you little, ungrateful…” Brood Lord’s cannon fired, but the projectile stopped short of the rebellious khan. Four priests stood up, palms outstretched, sweat rolling down their brows. Their telekinetic shield repelled the projectile. “Ah, the treachery widens. What would Dantai say about your actions?”

  “We don’t care about the heathen lies,” a male priest snarled, raising up a finger. “The Sky denies us His face for our sins in listening to the faker’s poisonous promises!”

  “Mad Hatter is a false prophet!” roared Caikhatu, his troops rallying around him. “She dragged the youth of our homend into needless wars, but what can she boast of for all the nds we have conquered? Sky burials?! The degenerate cannibals leading us?! I spit on her! Warriors! You owe no loyalty to Brood Lord! Drozna was loyal to him, but where is he now? Phaser was by his side, but do you see him now? Even Mungke didn’t st long! This creature is loyal to no one; even his family betrayed him! He’ll trade your corpses for his personal wealth!”

  Caikhatu wasn’t addressing Brood Lord, noted Janine. Not wholly. The loudspeakers carried his every word, and a sizable portion of the hosts recoiled from the ongoing tussle and stood, calcuting their chances.

  “Bold words from a traitor who abandoned Iron Lord for my protection!” Brood Lord ughed. “Now he wants to sickle a Recimer’s tits. My soldiers, I have fought by your side; I have spared no riches and promoted you generously! Caikhatu here spins a pretty lie, but I don’t remember him compining when we were winning effortlessly! Will you let a cowardly weakling lead? Who’s to say he won’t betray you next?!” He bellowed gleefully, watching how his bodyguards regroup and prepare to strike at Caikhatu.

  Heika crept up to the Caikhatu, daggers in her hands. She cast a single, hateful gnce at Janine and suddenly leaped over the khan and his allies, facing the approaching Horde forces head-on. The assassin weaved around the gunfire, diving through the fire, her mask almost touching the ground, and stabbed the first hordeman in the knees, instantly poisoning the woman. Heika sprang, plunging her bdes into the jaws of two others and kicking the third aside.

  “I am surrounded by traitors and incompetents,” Brood Lord sighed and took aim.

  “Should have fostered loyalty.” Janine kicked the debris hard enough to knock the weapon from his arm. Her reactor reactivated, lifting a weight from her limbs and body as the armor came back to life and the helmet closed around her head. The lenses fshed, lighting up Brood Lord.

  She still carried the unforgivable shame of her actions. A cub-syer. It did not matter that the Brood matured quickly; psychologically, they were never close to an adult, and in her arrogance, Janine had thought she knew best, reluctantly breaking her vow never to follow in Terrific’s footsteps.

  But she had another reason for her restraint and mercy today. She was educating the Horde, illustrating to them firstpaw the differences between their leaders and the Recmation Army. The murder of the wounded, the punishment of retreating troops, the callousness toward casualties… It all added to the weight of the metaphorical tunnel ceiling, with discipline, tradition, ambition, and religious fervor for Mad Hatter and loyalty serving as the supporting beams in said tunnel. Increase the weight, and ambition would ponder, indirectly adding to the pressure.

  Janine had seen Terrific break nations. Today, she had broken her first army in her own way, gaining unlikely allies and proving her worth as a warlord. The fear of being an unworthy pack leader disappeared.

  Looking down at Brood Lord, she felt little more than hatred, blind and unreasonable. She wanted nothing more than to pounce on him and bite that body, tearing off his chunks… Then she remembered Bogdan and Marco. Would they be proud of a leader or a monster?

  And so she burst into a barely controlled ugh, bellowing her joy and mockery to the world, loud enough to be heard over the battling masses. Brood Lord stopped and turned away from Caikhatu, his orange irises consuming the whites of his eyes. He clenched the hilt of his sword and joined her, ughing gleefully and throwing his head up.

  They cheered, the New Breeds on the opposite sides, oblivious to the situation, unburdened by the leadership.

  “What the hell are you ughing at, you beast?!” roared Brood Lord, stopping abruptly. “Have you grown hysterical at the prospect of losing the rest of your family to the bull? Fret not, I have plenty of ideas…”

  “Choices,” Janine cut him off. She stretched out her paw and moved her fingers. “You love to preach about them. Mad Hatter assigned you to guard the rear, yet you abandoned your post and took your entire army after a single woman. Guess why I bring it up?” She grinned, hearing a distant cannonade and relishing in his shock. “You chose poorly, boy.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Janine.” Brood Lord growled. “The rear is well protected. Whatever you’ve cooked, we’ll swallow.”

  “You’ll choke on it,” Janine assured him. “There is more. Caikhatu had found allies, but their numbers weren’t great. Had you never left the rear, he would’ve never dared to rebel.” A bullet ricocheted off Brood Lord’s round suit, but he didn’t move, watching her. “Yes. Dawns at you? Had Drozna been here, Caikhatu might have reconsidered, too. Had Phaser been at your side, you could have called for reinforcements. How many capable leaders have you killed who could’ve turned the situation around or exposed the treachery? But you never trusted any of them, or maybe you decided to get rid of them because they failed you? Who cares? The result remains the same. How does it feel to lose, you paranoid, sadistic, and undercooked crustacean Malformed?”

  “I’ve lost nothing…”

  “The Brood.” Janine raised a finger.

  “They are not lost.” Brood Lord snapped. “I sense them heading west!”

  “Good, then you get to die knowing that they are out of your reach forever,” Janine praised. “For what you did to my family and my people, I have taken your family from you. They are my family now, and they will grow up happily, never thinking of you. You once called me an incubator. Well, how about it? I have birthed an army in the midst of your troops. Your legs are crippled, your pns are thwarted, and even your ugly mustache is ruined. I ask again! How does it feel, Brood Lord? To be beaten in a woman’s way? Ready to wail in despair yet?”

  She expected him to roar in frustration, but Brood Lord merely chuckled and straightened up, blocking occasional shots with his back. The orange irises disappeared behind his human ones, his pincers tapped over his pockets, and he returned the smile.

  “I never thought,” he admitted, “that a woman could push my buttons like that. But you are missing a crucial detail.” He waved a finger. “See, you females pay too much attention to the concept of a ‘house.’ For you, it is unthinkable to lose it or your offspring, while men are natural builders. When I was about the age of the young pup I blinded, my home had been raided, my family killed. Alone and estranged, I wandered the steppes until I stumbled upon a small vilge. Silly me tried to beg for food, but the local children ughed and pelted me with stones. They did it once, twice... I ate them the third time, and no one dared to ugh at me again.”

  “You repced your missing legs, but clearly you need to repce your ears as well, since I did exactly that.” A twitch crossed Brood Lord’s face. His lips parted, showing needle teeth and bubbling venom. “Is that sob story supposed to convince me to spare you?”

  “Sky forbid. No, just to illustrate,” Brood Lord yawned. “I’ve lost everything before, but I rose to prominence and took it all back, and more. This time it won’t be any different.”

  “It will,” Janine promised. “Because there is no bouncing back from today. The sum of your actions has brought you to the judge. Your life. Offer it to Bogdan as recompense.”

  “Fine, Janine.” Brood Lord said calmly. “You have fully earned your well-deserved reward. Today I will remove you from my life. Die with my highest praise!”

  They stormed towards each other, legs kicking up rge boulders, weapons wielded in a double grip. The curved sword struck first. Janine swatted away its tip, surprised at the unexpected limpness. A feint. Brood Lord immediately tightened his grip, returning the bde for the second, true stab, and it rang on the Taleteller’s haft.

  Janine ducked, holding the axe above herself, and headbutted the khan, driving him back. She retreated, dodging two of his legs as they came down on her. His pincers splintered her right pauldron. The warlord responded with a swing, grabbing the handle of the axe for maximum reach, and it carved a deep, long line into the pincer arm.

  They fought, full of hatred for their opponent, and the echoes of their duel were barely heard among the forces cshing thunderously outside the gates. But before the duel drew her attention away, Janine had noticed several hesitant groups casting down their leader’s banners and joining the fnks of the rebels.

  Every person reaped what he or she sowed. Janine had no illusions that she would survive to see the completion of reunification. Even if she did, she often wondered what role she could py outside the military. But she was sure of one thing. It was better to be the second, the third, or the st among loyal friends than to be the ruler of a treacherous crowd that would drag you down as quickly as it would raise you up. Mercy, dignity, and honor often stood in the way of quick advancement, but it was more valuable to be surrounded by friends and comrades who could help her get back up after a fall. For their sakes, and for the fallen, she intended to end Brood Lord.