Excerpt from
Song of the Starborn

“Not our republic, not our voice!”
     Major Ian Lucas Marlowe looked away from the angry, shouting Tetranese mob to ask his fellow Sword, Lieutenant Ben Buckler, “These fools do realize that we came here to help them, right?”
     Ben’s shimmering barrier was all that separated the crowd of rain-soaked islanders whose Tetranese-accented anti-republic slogans continued unabated from the line of Swords guarding the carrier meant to deliver emergency aid to the victims of the second tropical storm to hit Tetran in less than a year.
     “The Senate does not rule my home; Thebanova has no throne!”
     “The false Swords will fall; the true heir will return!”
     “Bring back the crown, bring back the power!”
     Ben glowered beneath his hood as sheeting rain battered the carrier. “Think we should tell these soggy folks that there hasn’t been a crown, a throne, or a monarch in over a decade?”
     “Not sure it’ll do much good,” Ian replied. These elite Tetranese were among the republic’s wealthiest citizens, and they had managed to form the most organized imperialist protest Ian had encountered so far. They were also proving to be a real pain in the ass.
     “Stars’ sake, Ian, this is ridiculous,” Ben grumbled. “There are people out there who need us!”
     “Yeah, I know,” Ian said, seizing the transmitter that would activate the carrier’s loudspeaker, before stepping onto the ramp and into the downpour. Ben followed with his arms crossed in front of his chest, and the barrier visibly intensified.
     “People of Tetran,” Ian spoke into the transmitter. His amplified voice cut through the rain and swept over the wet, protesting mob as he repeated, “People of Tetran! I need you to listen to me right now!”
     “Senate slave!” someone shouted, and others took up the cry.
     “Go back to Sylvanore, militant magicians!” hollered another.
     Ian scoffed into the transmitter before saying, “Tempting. Very tempting. But, no. So, once again, I need you to listen.”
     “Who are you to give us orders?”
     Throwing back the hood of his cloak, Ian let the rain fall onto his black curls. “I’m Major Ian Marlowe of the Danimese Defense Corps and master Shield of the Order of the Silver Sword.” The people began to quiet as a ripple of recognition swept the crowd. “Oh, good, some of you know who I am. Saves me the trouble of having to list all the reasons why I should be the one talking while the rest of you shut up and listen.”
     “He’s the Sword who helped kill the usurper,” someone said.
     “Yeah, that’s right,” Ian replied with a grimace. Using his Gift to fatally stab a former Sword in the back was not exactly high on the list of things he was proud of, even if that former Sword had become a homicidal dictator. Regardless, the deed had earned him the reputation that now quieted the crowd. “And I guess that makes me a big damn hero, one that you should be paying attention to.”
     The sound of the rain was not quite loud enough to cover Ben’s snicker.
     “Here’s the deal,” Ian continued. “We are here to help you. The Swords are here to help you. I am here to help you. And you, my dear people of Tetran, are standing in our way.”
     “Thebanova is a thief!” cried a voice. “She needs to be stopped!”
     “Okay, can you all save the political dogshit for when there hasn’t just been a natural disaster?” Ian hollered back.
     “The Senate stole our sovereigns!” someone shouted, and another yelled, “You’re only doing the Senate’s bidding!”
     Rainwater dripped into Ian’s widening eyes. “You’re damn right I’m doing the Senate’s bidding! Because I am sworn to protect the people of Danim, and that’s what the Senate sent me here to do! Stars almighty, there is a time and a place for this, and right now is neither! So, just get out of the Star-damned way and let us get to work!”
     Ben uncrossed his arms and silently indicated with one hand that Ian might want to tone it down just a bit.
Ian responded with a dark glare and a discreet, single-digit gesture of his own before he went on, “I understand that you’re all angry. But so am I, because there are people who need our help. So, all I’m asking is for everyone to just go home so that we can get to work.”
     “But you fought for the last true ruler of Danim, and now you fight for her?”
     This cry was met by another voice from the crowd shouting, “You’re a traitor!”
     Ian saw the warning look in Ben’s black eyes and the tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Don’t let these assholes get to you, his expression seemed to say.
     Ian rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin to address the Swords who had been forced to become a human blockade by the crowd on the other side of Ben’s shield. “Swords, take two steps back.”
     As one, the Swords obeyed.
     “Now, listen up, folks,” Ian said. “My next order is going to be the one to lower the barrier that stands between you and us. You have two choices. You can respond aggressively, in which case you’ll deal not only with the full might of the Swords you see in front of you, but also your own Island peacekeepers, whose actions will be entirely outside our jurisdiction. Or—” he paused for emphasis “—you can go back to your homes and let us help your fellow islanders, whose situation has grown increasingly dire while you’ve kept us here. Decide.”
     The crowd quieted, and Ian silently counted to ten. Then he lowered the transmitter from his mouth and said to Ben, “Drop your shield.”
     The shimmering barrier vanished, and to Ian’s relief, the people made no move toward either the Swords or the carrier.
     “Wise choice,” he said, and even without amplification, he knew the protesters could still hear him. Then he stepped closer to Ben. “Okay, you know the assignments. Send out the teams on the designated barges to set up those relief stations. And make sure everyone knows that they are to report any damage or risk assessments of level 3 or greater immediately. The rest can be logged and filed upon return for follow up. Comm me if anyone runs into any trouble.”
     “Yes, sir,” Ben replied. “And where will you be?”
     “Right here.”
     Ben whipped his head around so quickly Ian felt the rainwater from the other Sword’s hood splash his face. “Right here?”
     “Yeah, right here.” Ian clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder and said, “You see, this is what’s called ‘delegating,’ Buckler. Also known as a damn good reason to get that promotion you keep dodging. Now get busy while I get out of this rain and do all the mission-commander-like stuff.”
     “Aye, Major,” Ben sighed before stepping onto the wet landing pad.
     “Major,” called a female voice from inside the carrier, and Ian turned his head to see a slender silhouette approach from the direction of the cockpit. Sergeant Lissa Field, a young Healer and Reader, emerged into the watery sunlight where Ian was standing. “Senator Gardener is on the comm.”
     Ian swallowed back the surge of anger that threatened to choke him and slammed the transmitter back into its cradle with a little more violence than was warranted. The Tetranese senator was the very last person he wanted to talk to while already in a temper, and he stalked toward the front of the ship, shedding his dripping cloak and sword belt. Tossing both onto an empty chair in the cramped cockpit, he took a second to bring his emotions under control. A verbal altercation with the vile politician would get him nowhere.
     “Major, we have a small problem,” Ben’s voice abruptly interrupted over Ian’s personal comm just as he was reaching for the main transmitter on the console.
     “Damn it, Ben, what?”
     “One of these assholes decided to take a swing at Sergeant Marcus.”
     Ian rubbed the bridge of his nose as his sodden cloak dripped rainwater onto the cockpit floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. “And?”
     “We grabbed the assailant, but Marcus needs a Healer, and I need the big damn hero to get his heroic ass back out here.”
     “Marcus is a fucking Shield!” Ian growled. “How the hell . . .” He broke off, turning to the young Sword manning the helm. “Garrisan, tell Gardener I’ll be with him once I’ve dealt with this little shitshow his own people have started. Field, come with me.”
     Garrisan blinked up at him. “Sir?”
     “Quote me,” Ian snapped before snatching up his sodden cloak and heading back out.
     “Sir, you forgot your sword.”
     “No I didn’t,” Ian replied. He didn’t need it. He was a man of peace now. His fighting days were long gone.
     And he prayed to the Stars it would stay that way.