Page 2

CHAPTER 2

T he Common Hall was a big circular building slapped together out of disused pieces of mining equipment and corroded slabs of sheet metal.

From the outside, it looked like a huge pile of trash.

The inside wasn’t much better.

There was standing room on the raw dirt floor below, with bench seats along the walls, and a precarious balcony running all the way around the upper level.

Rona had chosen to observe the proceedings from the balcony.

Rickety though it may have been, it was still preferable to being down there in that crush of bodies on the ground level.

Not that there was much breathing room up here in the balcony either.

It was a full house tonight, and the hall was hot and muggy from the hundreds of sweating bodies crammed inside.

Smelly too. Seemed like the whole damn village was here tonight, mostly men, but with a few women scattered throughout the crowd as well.

“They’re coming!” someone shouted near the entrance.

“The Mercs are coming…!”

Rona ran her grimy fingers through her close-cropped hair and sighed.

About damn time, she thought.

The ship had landed while the sun was still in the sky.

Since then, nightfall had come and gone, and the villagers had been packed inside the Common Hall for hours, awaiting the Mercs’ arrival.

People had started getting restless.

Fights had broken out.

Busted lips. Broken noses.

Nothing too serious.

“Hey there, sweetcheeks.”

Rona simultaneously flinched at the gravelly voice in her ear and cringed at the reek of rotten breath that accompanied it.

She’d been so engrossed by the goings-on down below that she’d failed to notice the huge, sweaty miner who had sidled up next to her at the railing.

She certainly noticed him now.

In particular, she noticed his big, meaty hand squeezing her butt through her jeans, its callused fingers delving precariously close to her other, more sensitive places.

Rona didn’t bother pulling away from him.

She couldn’t in this crowd.

Instead, she dipped her hand inside her jacket and drew her knife.

In a blink, the blade was out, and its tip was pressed against the miner’s crotch.

“Hands off or dick off,” she hissed.

“Your choice.”

As expected, the fingers relinquished their hold on her butt.

A few of the men standing nearby laughed.

The one who had grabbed her reddened and backed off.

“Dyke bitch.”

Sticks and stones.

As long as the creep’s hand was off her body, Rona was happy.

She slipped the knife back inside her jacket, but kept her hand on the grip just in case.

Down below, a hush had fallen over the groundlings, and now it was spreading to the balcony as well.

Every eye in the house was turned toward the entrance, so that was where Rona put her eyes too.

As she watched, the people standing by the door moved back, and three men stepped inside—the three biggest men Rona had ever seen.

The crowd split as the Mercs strode forward, moving in a triangular formation, one in front, the other two following close behind.

All three wore tactical vests that left their arms exposed, and their powerful muscles glistened with sweat in the harsh overhead lights.

Their heads were hooded, their faces drenched in shadow.

All Rona could make out from a distance were the suggestions of grizzled beards and an occasional gleam of wolfish eyes.

Suddenly, the air inside the Hall didn’t seem quite so hot anymore.

A chill had come over the place, as if the Grim Reaper himself had stepped into the room.

Only instead of one reaper, there were three of them, and they had rifles slung over their shoulders instead of scythes.

But… only three?

Rona knew the reputation of the Mercenaries Guild.

Everyone in the Outworlds had heard the stories.

Genetically modified warriors augmented to the gills and subjected to years of intense training and torture until they felt no pain and desired only killing and war.

Their services were not to be employed lightly—or cheaply.

Still, Rona had assumed the Guild would be sending more than three men.

She watched as the trio approached the platform at the back of the Hall where the village councillors were waiting.

The Merc leader turned his head slowly, scanning the old men before him.

Then he drew back his hood.

Rona’s heart skipped.

The chill she’d been experiencing ever since the Mercs had entered the room was replaced with a sudden rush of heat.

The man was brutally handsome, his features carved by a chisel, his eyes as dark and deadly as blued steel.

A dense beard covered his cheeks and jaw and hung down nearly to the top of his massive chest. There was a line on one side where a blade had scarred him and the hair had never grown back.

“Who’s in charge here?” he growled.

That voice . It was like a distant rumble of thunder over the badlands.

Even from the balcony, Rona could feel it vibrating deep in her core.

She blushed at the inappropriate feelings it stirred within her.

Who the hell was this guy?

A killer, that’s who.

A stone-cold killer.

Rona was grateful that she would never be the object of such a man’s attention.

The councillors on the platform seemed to share that sentiment.

For a long moment, the Merc’s question went unanswered.

Then, finally, one of the men stepped forward.

A small, rotund fellow by the name of Brundage.

He was the one who had come up with the half-baked idea of hiring Mercs in the first place.

Now he introduced himself to the visitors with an obsequious little bow.

“Greetings, sir. My name is Walther Brundage. It was I who contacted your Guild.”

“I’m Aeron,” the Merc leader answered.

He gestured over his shoulder at his two hooded companions.

“This is Murdok and Zeth. We heard you’re having some trouble with your mine.”

“Indeed…”

Rona rolled her eyes as Brundage embarked on his tale.

He was the kind of man who liked to hear himself talk.

Consequently, it took him much longer than necessary to explain what had been happening at the mine.

The situation was actually quite simple:

The Riadne Silk Mine was the whole reason the village existed, and it was there that most of the villagers worked.

Those who didn’t still depended on the miners for their income.

Taverners and barkeeps.

Menders of clothing and repairers of tools.

And of course, those unenviable women who plied the most ancient of trades.

Without the mine, all of them would be lost.

The problems had started a few weeks back, when a gang of mutant raiders had shown up out of nowhere.

More like a small army, actually.

Rona hadn’t been in the mines then, she’d been off the clock, but she’d heard all about it after the fact.

The survivors had told how the mutants had invaded the mines and slaughtered their comrades.

And the mutants were still there now, hunkered down in the mines and showing no intention of departing.

After Brundage finally finished talking, the man named Aeron sniffed and stroked his beard.

“So basically, you want us to get rid of the muties.”

“Precisely, sir.”

Aeron nodded slowly.

“We can take care of that for you, but it won’t be cheap.”

“Might I inquire as to how much?”

Aeron quoted a sum.

It was met with a collective gasp from the crowd.

Even Rona’s heart jumped a little, though she wasn’t all that surprised.

She’d known from the beginning that this was a bad idea.

These Mercs were big-time.

They weren’t about to work for a bunch of grubby little miners—at least not at a price the village could afford.

Down below, the man named Aeron glanced coldly around the room.

“What?” he snarled. “The Mercenaries Guild isn’t running a charity. We’ll help you, but you gotta pay.” He turned his attention back toward Brundage.

“Who owns the mine, anyway?”

“There is not a single owner,” Brundage answered.

“The Riadne Silk Mine is a small public company, with shares traded at the local bursas, as well as in some of the offworld stock markets.”

“So get the shareholders to pay. You miners shouldn’t have to foot the bill.”

Brundage shook his head sadly.

“Alas, the shareholders seem to have no intention of doing any such thing. Most of them have already cut their losses and sold off their shares.” He lifted his face hopefully.

“Perhaps we could work out some sort of payment plan? We have no money now, but once the mines reopen, we could give you a percentage of our revenue to cover the fee.”

Aeron glanced back at his two companions.

There was something in that glance that caught Rona’s attention.

Something that made her blood beat a little faster in her veins.

“We can do that,” the lead Merc said, turning to face Brundage again.

“But we’ll require some collateral.”

“We are but simple miners,” said Brundage.

“What could we possibly offer that would be of value to mercenaries such as yourselves?”

“A woman.”