“Aye, Commander,” Desset had told him a dozen times at least before they set sail. “The brigands are in there, like rats in their nests—young and old alike, vermin in need of extermination.”

Pirates.

“And the sorcerer?”

“Him, too—though you don’t hardly see him much. But that’s his hidey-hole, that one. Down in the rocks, deep in the underground. Oh, he’s there, all right. A blot upon the earth, a sickness to be burned away!”

He ignored his spy’s boisterous words, his suspect characterizations, and his obvious prejudices. He cared only for the accuracy of Desset’s insistence on knowing the pirate lair, and in this he was unshakable. The pirates were there. And the sorcerer, as well—the hated Arcannen. After years of trying to track both through hearsay and rumor, through false leads and dead ends, he had them at last.

The pirate raids on Federation shipping had been going on for months, but the bolder, more recent attacks against the diapson crystal transports had been the last straw. The Coalition Council had been in an uproar, the Prime Minister had turned to the Minister of Defense, and the latter had summoned him personally to deal with the matter.

“I want this settled, Usurient,” he had announced two minutes after the other’s arrival. “I want these raiders found and stamped out. Every last one. No exceptions. The Slash does this sort of work well enough; make sure they remember how to do it. And if the rumors of Arcannen are true, then finish him, as well. The Prime Minister and the Coalition Council have agreed. To the deep pit with all of them; spare the women and children and the sick and old, but no others.”

So here he was, a few miles west of Arbrox, his command ready, his orders clear. Search and destroy. This was an undertaking that would end in the complete slaughter of those he found—though it was not the mandate the Minister of Defense had given him or one the Prime Minister would countenance. Dallen Usurient was a hard man, and he had lived a hard life. Not for him the pleasures of city life and the comforts of bed and family. His family was the corps and his bedmate was his duty. Whatever comfort he found came from knowing he had never failed either and never would. What satisfaction he enjoyed came from his life as a soldier, from the raw taste of battle and the sweet scent of his enemy’s blood. Fighting gave his life purpose and order; fighting was experience and skill and instinct combined to form the heart and soul of a soldier, and in his opinion there was nothing better or more meaningful in the entire world.

The transport was slowing down, and now the warships were moving up alongside. They would wait until the soldiers of the Slash were placed close to the fortress walls, then they would use their big guns to open paths to those who lay sleeping within. A few would be awake even now; a few would be keeping watch on the walls. But no one would be expecting the attack, and no one would be able to stand against it.

Usurient took a deep, steadying breath and exhaled slowly. He would go in first. He always did. You led by example, no matter your rank, no matter the danger. His men took their courage from him. They found their strength in his.

He turned around and faced his men. He was a tall, strong man, standing well over six feet, with a shock of black hair and a scar running crosswise on his face left to right over the bridge of his nose. He made an imposing figure as he lifted his right arm, fist clenched. Five hundred arms lifted in response, mimicking the gesture. Solidarity was everything in the corps. He glanced at Desset, who was looking ahead still, his uneasiness obvious. He was not a part of the corps; he could never be one of them. He was a spy, and his usefulness would end after today. His narrow frame, all bones and angles, and his strange eyes with their cat-like slits and his narrow chin did nothing to flatter him. He was a necessary evil, and he would not be missed by any of them.

“Be calm,” Usurient whispered to him.

“You’re not the one the survivors will come looking for when this is over,” the other hissed.

Usurient shrugged. “There will be no survivors.”

“Just make sure.”

“Stay aboard, and stay out of sight. Wait for us here.”

The cat’s eyes flicked in his direction. “Not much else I can do, is there?”

The transport began to descend onto a flat that appeared between a swarm of gullies and ridges fronting the mountains ahead. When they were close enough to set the mooring lines, Usurient ordered the ladders thrown out, and the entire command began to climb down. Their progress was quick and efficient. It took less than ten minutes for all five hundred to disembark and form up below, organized by squads—scouts at the fore, heavy weapons at the rear. The squads consisted of bowmen, swordsmen, and spearmen, each with a specific task and all with a single command—to seize the fortress and kill everyone within.

Usurient had thought earlier to amend that order on the chance that useful information might be gleaned from those kept alive. But in the end it was simpler just to kill them all. What information they had was likely of little use, and there was less risk to his people with a kill order than with a capture-and-detain proviso.

He glanced around, standing now at the forefront of his corps. Ahead, the terrain was a barren mass of rocks and fissures. No vegetation, no sign of life. Not even a bird took flight at their arrival. Such a squalid, pointless bit of earth, he thought. How could there ever be anything here worth keeping?

His squad leaders crowded close as he repeated one last time the instructions he had given them twice already. Wait for the assault from the warships. Once it ceased, move forward into the gaps in the walls—swordsmen in the lead, spearmen following, bowmen in reserve, and heavy weapons as backup. Find those still alive and kill them. All of them. Ferret them out, if they were in hiding. Leave no one behind.

Then he moved them forward, taking up a point just behind the scouts as he led the way toward the peaks and the fortress they warded, the entire command spreading like a huge, silent stain across the landscape. They fanned out in two directions, forming a vise to imprison and contain those within the walls ahead, their lines staggered to prevent any escape. The roar of the ocean crashing on the rocks and the constant wail of the ocean wind hid their approach, muffling the clank and rattle of metal and scrape of boots.

When they were in position, Usurient sent up the agreed-upon flare, and the warships eased forward to begin their assault. Turning broadside, the big flash rips mounted on the decking released the power fueled by the diapson crystals, and waves of explosive fire hammered at the now fully visible fortress. Entire sections of the walls disintegrated in minutes, and the main gates went down in splinters of wood and iron. Cries of alarm rose from those within, and men surged onto what remained of the walls to fight back. They stood no chance. The warships attacked relentlessly, sweeping the men away, disabling their inferior weapons, and knocking out the ramparts and towers on which they stood.

When the airship weapons ceased, Usurient howled out to his five hundred, and the whole of his command surged toward the walls, flooded through the ragged gaps in the stone, and charged inside.

What happened next was predictably horrific. The killing was rampant and unceasing as swordsmen and spearmen took out what few remained of the defenders and then went after everyone else. Men, women, and children, old and young, whole or damaged, were cut to pieces. They died screaming and begging. They died fighting and running away. They died where they were hiding or as they were seeking escape. But they died all the same. None was spared and none escaped. Blood and flesh lay everywhere, a lifeless mass of what had once been a human population, decimated in less than an hour’s time. The entire assault was executed flawlessly. Less than a handful of the Red Slash soldiers were killed in the process, and less than two handfuls injured in even the most minor ways.