A Warrior on a Harsh World is a story resurrected from our archives. It’s a prequel to The Lyra Cycle, telling the tale of how Kandi — Kandira Sakherani, dutiful daughter, promising soldier — ended up joining the ragtag crew of the Lyra. If you’re just joining us, hop back to part 1.
With a combination of pulling, pushing and cajoling, helped along by the fact that they were heading downhill, Kandi got Bash into Noumi. Now they both leaned against a stone wall, trying to catch their breath. A rattle sounded from Bash every time he inhaled. She glanced at him, then down the road.
The people who’d frozen when they entered the street began moving again, though they kept their distance as they stared side-eyed at them with narrowed eyes and tense faces. She shifted under their hostile gaze. Her uniform made her unwelcome, but she and Bash had few options. More uniforms were coming after them.
The thought made her gut wobble. Both the Citizen Security Forces and the Brigade came into Noumi often — they just didn’t have their usual tech helpers in the cameras and bugs, which were quickly destroyed by the residents, and the area somehow never made it to the top of the list for infrastructure upgrades. Which meant when the forces came, they entered with more personnel, more fire power and less discernment than they would in another area of the city.
A click-clack sounded over her head, and she wondered if they’d deployed some spy-DR bot to search for them. Any number of autonomous weapons could be creeping towards her and Bash. Something whirred above and to the right. She tipped her head to listen while scanning the street. It didn’t sound like a drone, but she still craned her neck to look up. Nothing but blue sky mottled with towering clouds. She leaned over to tell Bash they needed to move.
Crack! Something hit the wall where her head had just been. She straightened as a rock fell to her feet. It was the size of a jula nut — big enough to hurt but not enough to cave her skull in. She cast her gaze around, trying to pinpoint where it had come from, but the rooftops and crumbling balconies were empty.
“Maybe you should let me lead.” Bash pushed himself away from the wall. She frowned at the sallowness of his skin and the wobble in his steps. His voice was rheumy when he spoke. “I don’t think they like you.” He smiled.
She grimaced. They had reasons not to like her. Her cohort had been one of those sent in to quell the Nouminen riots. But if they didn’t want troops in their streets, they shouldn’t have destroyed businesses and thrown rocks at brigadiers. Kandi huffed as she followed Bash. As she did, she studied the gaunt men and the few stooped women in their midst. Something clenched in her chest.
Then she canted her head to the side: the click-clacking was back. She stopped, straining to hear. There was another sound underneath it. The whirr of a drone. She inspected the skies, but the machine wasn’t in sight yet. Grabbing Bash’s shoulder, she pulled him closer to the wall. There was a snap followed by an acrid scent. Someone cried out, and a few steps ahead, fabric fluttered on the edge of the roof.
Without thinking, she charged past Bash and looked up as a billow of green fell. Fabric in the shape of a person. At first, they seemed to hang in the air, then they dropped like a practice dummy cut from its support. She reached out, hoping at least to slow the person’s fall. They were small and light, but Kandi still tumbled to the ground with her catch.
The boy — it was a boy, she now realized — groaned. Thinking he was injured, she patted him, looking for broken bones or blood. Instead, all she found was the pink spot where the stun charge had hit. His eyelids fluttered, then opened wide as he peered at her. Scrabbling back, he dropped the whirligig he’d been holding. She grabbed it, inspecting the pocket which had cradled the stone the boy flung at her head. She frowned at it, then at him — it could have held something much bigger.
A man rushed towards them, and Kandi reached for a rock to pop into the whirligig. But the man simply said ‘thank you’ repeatedly as he dropped to the boy’s side and grabbed his face.
“What were you thinking, being up there when the drones are out?”
The boy’s eyes slid towards her, despite his face being squished between the man’s hands. “Ay, aba, they shouldn’t be here.”
The man — his father, she presumed — glanced sidelong at her before pulling the boy into his arms and hauling them both up. “That’s none of your business. If they’re fleeing the drones, they probably have good reason.” His eyes flicked down to her insignia.
The jitter in her veins turned to buzzing. When the man glanced up, she realized it wasn’t just her. More drones flew close by, and from the sound of them, these ones carried more than stun guns.
“Get inside,” she said. “Stay inside.”
The man nodded and tugged the reluctant boy away. Scanning the street, she noticed it had cleared, meaning she and Bash couldn’t hide in a crowd. She pulled him into the shadow of the wall, trying to pinpoint which direction the buzz came from, but the sound echoed along the old stone walls.
Without warning, a drone appeared over the roof opposite their position. It resembled a giant fly, if flies were black plex and chrome. She squinted, trying to figure out if it had spotted them while she slid down the wall to grab a rock. Setting it in the pocket of her confiscated whirligig, she stepped into the street and started twirling the sling, getting it up to speed.
She released and said a silent prayer to gods she didn’t believe in. The stone when wide, chipping a wall to the left of the drone. The machine spun around, hunting for the source of the projectile, but before it sighted them, something crashed into it. It tumbled out of the air, breaking apart when it hit the cobbled streets below. She silently thanked the invisible owner of the whirligig that had taken it down. It gave a final, pathetic whirr before going silent.
Not wanting to wait around for its fellows, Kandi cajoled her brother along the street. He struggled to keep up, either because he was sick or he’d spent the last three years studying in a lab…or both. Whatever the reason, she needed to get him to the spaceport soon. She just didn’t know how to get from here to there without both of them being killed.
“I need to think,” she said to herself as she searched the now-shuttered street for a place to hide from the drones she knew would follow their fallen brethren.
“I need a drink.” Bash slumped against her. “Water.”
Kandi nodded, mouth set in a grim line. Then a ripple of hope flittered through her stomach. Birds flew into the sky from a ramshackle building just down the way. Gaping holes covered the roof and the walls looked about ready to topple. But as long as they didn’t collapse in the next few hours, she and Bash could shelter inside the ruined temple for a bit, out of the midday sun. Though glancing at the sky again, she noted the clouds she’d seen early were gathering and shifting to a darker grey.
“Just a few more metres, I’ll get you some water.” She frowned, unsure she could keep that promise.
Half hauling her brother up the catawampus stairs, Kandi was surprised to see there was still a door…and it stood open. Faded carvings graced the lintel and the columns that supported it. Squinting, she made out that they were words in Old Erivan — the archaic religious script. Despite constant tutelage, she understood the writing even less than the spoken language. Bash, however, tipped his head and started reading, his voice lilting in the rhythm of poetry.
Her stomach twitched as she recognized enough of the words to know this was an ancient temple to an old male god. Few Antarans paid more than lip service to any religion, but those that did either followed the Church of the Three Sisters — Crone, Mother, and Maid — or the polytheistic Olympiad, which had seen a resurgence in recent years with greater Dominion presence on the planet. Archaeologists dug up statuary of this father figure every once in a while, though Kandi had been taught the temples had all disappeared. Apparently, the archaeologists didn’t come into Noumi.
Her heart thudded in her chest and her stomach clenched as she stepped over the threshold. She exhaled with a huff. Once inside, a coolness enveloped her. She nudged the door shut behind her, blocking out the little noises from the street and the sounds that carried from the city beyond.
Twilight surrounded them, the only illumination coming from the gaps in the roof high overhead. Motes of dust speckled the beams of light. Bash leaned against a column before slumping to the floor. Kandi was tempted to join him but remembered her promise of water. She didn’t expect to have much luck — any water that had come in during the last rain would be contaminated if it hadn’t already evaporated. Still, she crept amongst the columns in the large central space.
Her breath caught as she spied the altar. Fresh fruit, bug free, sat on the clean marble. A ceramic pitcher and cup stood on one side, and an urn of flowers on the other. Reaching it, she tipped the pitcher toward her and peered into its dark depth, trying to discern if the liquid was water.
“Have you come for a blessing or a curse?” a voice behind her said.
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