Page 49 of Barbarian Daddies

“How long have you assholes been camping here?” I ask one of the mercs.

They refuse to answer, so Maur allows himself to unhinge a little. He backhands one of them so hard over the cheek that I hear the bones crackling. The man cries out and spits blood, but he still doesn’t answer, so Maur hits him again and again.

“He won’t stop until you speak,” I say, my tone flat. Knots tighten in my stomach, but these are desperate times demanding desperate measures. “Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll—”

“We’ll kill you fast,” Maur cuts me off, glowering at the two mercenaries. “We’ll show you more mercy than you showed our people by the river. How’s that?”

Salim punches the other guy a few times, just enough to knock two of his teeth out. “Otherwise, we’ll just take our sweet time and carve you up until you beg us to end you. And even then, we won’t stop.”

“You’ve heard the stories about us, right?” Maur adds, grinning devilishly. “We’re the Hadana twins. You do know what we do to our war prisoners, don’t you?”

Judging by the panicked looks on the mercenaries’ faces, they’ve definitely heard the stories. Of course, they’re old stories from many years ago, back when Maur and I were still young and cruel, still thirsting for violence and vengeance. I hardly recognize that version of me anymore, but I acknowledge it. I was that creature once, and so was Maur. I’d hate to have to be that again.

“How long have you been camping here?” I ask, and Maur hits the first guy one more time, for good measure. “How long?”

“Two… Two days,” the merc manages, his lips swollen and split, his chin glazed with his own blood. “Two days… Just two…”

“Where is the human woman?” Maur asks him.

“We never saw her,” the second guy says. “We saw the dead kid over there. We caught a whiff of her scent, but we lost it somewhere farther down from here. It rained that night.”

“What are you doing here?” I reply.

The first guy gives me a weary look. “Recon. We’re just doing recon. We’re supposed to look out for any Fire Tribe movements in the fields and in the orchards. General Sharuk wants to make sure she sees you coming.”

“She’ll never see us coming,” Maur shoots back and slits his throat.

I look away. I’ve seen too much death and violence already. There’s only so much I can take.

The other survivor whimpers, horrified and fully aware he’ll be next. “I’ll tell you anything, just don’t kill me!” he cries out.

“Look at him. The mighty Sky Tribe,” Salim scoffs, unable to hide his disgust. “Until you strip them of their weapons and authority. Then they’re nothing but cowardly worms. Useless. And they claim to be the superior ones. The future of Sunna.”

“They’re nothing,” Maur growls, staring at the sobbing fool.

I can’t even feel pity for these people. Not after everything they’ve done. And especially not considering the many other atrocities they’re ready to commit going forward. Yet I cannot play by the same rules anymore, either. We’ve killed enough of our own. We’ve lost too much. Too many good people perished in flames and in blood, victims of a senseless war that has only served to drive us farther apart from one another.

Cynthia was right from the very beginning. The only way to bring our people together is to cure this fucking plague and give Sunna hope for survival, for a better future. However, in order to do that, my brother and I and every other Fire Tribe chieftain must keep pushing, we must endure and deliver more violence against the Sky Tribe until they are too feeble to fight back. Until their ideology ceases to exist, until their weapons are destroyed and their starships are no more. I cannot see another method.

We must be monsters for a little while longer.

“What’s the plan?” I ask the mercenary. “What is General Sharuk after in the next couple of weeks? You must have orders, something to look forward to.”

“She wants to send another starship out before the month’s end,” he says. “The one near Emerald City. We’re sending fuel supplies on a daily basis all the way from Ruby City. There are convoys crossing the Manticore Desert every night, when the suns are down and the moons are up.”

“The Emerald City hangar, just like Jewel suspected,” Maur mutters, looking at me.

I nod once. “She’ll need the Yellow Gang and all the help she can get for that.”

“We’ll ground that fucker, don’t worry about it,” he says, then gives the merc a sour look. “What about Sapphire City’s defenses? I need a schematic.”

“What for?” the merc replies, somewhat confused.

“We’re taking it back,” I declare. “You boys have squandered so many good resources. You don’t deserve to hold the cities anymore. One by one, we are taking them back. Starting with Sapphire City.”

The merc thinks about it for a moment, his gaze wandering all over the hilltop. Around us, the wild fruit trees shiver in the chill of the night, the occasional plum falling from the repeated gusts of wind. The campfire is all but dead, now, mere embers burning orange in the hearth. I can still smell traces of Dahlen’s blood in the air. Death lingers for a long time in these parts, likely because of the higher degree of humidity. Out by the plateau and in the desert areas, the smells fade quickly as the twin suns dry every tissue up.

We’ll need to burn the boy’s body, and the thought fills me with sadness and disgust.

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