Mercenary (12 page)

Victor watched from the hilltop with growing interest, well aware of an obstacle ahead that was not yet visible to Stratton. He wondered what Louisa was planning. She didn’t appear to be slowing down and he shook his head, hoping Stratton had some equestrian experience.

A small fold in the ground up ahead disguised a narrow slice into the cliff, a chine that reached inland a dozen or so metres. The first time Louisa had seen it was when she’d been riding at a gentle trot and she had stopped in front of it. After an inspection from both sides of the cut, paying particular attention to the soundness of the edges, she had trotted back the way she had come, turned her horse around and broken into a fearsome gallop. That first time she’d made the jump she’d chosen the middle where the chine was a couple of metres wide. The following day she had returned for another go, this time leaping its widest point close to the edge for an added rush. It was not the longest jump she had ever made but with the added degree of difficulty, namely the abyss below, it was one of the more exhilarating.

Louisa spared only a moment to consider the dangers to Stratton, knowing that his horse would follow hers. She had time to avoid the chine and for a second she was undecided. But the devil in her forbade her to show any sympathy for the mercenary. She reckoned his type were fond of regaling their chums with exaggerated accounts of their adventures. Well, he could add this one to his repertoire. She did not mean him harm, not physically anyway. It was an opportunity to scare him and hence too good to miss. His horse was a sturdy beast that had made the jump many times. And though Stratton had no riding form to speak of he did have something of a natural seat. If he lost his nerve he might try to pull up or turn aside, though. That could be a problem.

The chine came into view through the taller grass and Louisa rose up in the saddle to take some weight off her horse’s neck. With perfect timing the animal made the leap. The thunderous sound of his hooves ceased as he took to the air. They struck the ground and the thunder returned. Louisa eased back on the reins as she turned to look behind her. When she saw Stratton she suddenly grew concerned that she had gone too far.

Stratton had not yet seen the chine but he had not missed seeing Louisa’s horse take to the air. By the time he spotted the jagged cut in the cliff it was too late to do anything, even if he could have. His horse was the master of the moment. All he could do was hold on tight.

Time seemed to slow for him at that point. The sound of his horse’s hooves grew muffled as every metre of ground ahead came into sharp focus. The horse jolted as it prepared to jump. Stratton loosened the reins to allow the animal the freedom to do what it needed. As the gap approached Stratton’s feeling of tension soared. The horse brought up its front legs and Stratton’s head went down alongside the animal’s neck.

As they jumped Stratton found himself looking down into the void. He was aware only of a vast emptiness below.

The horse landed hard and threw Stratton further forward. He almost lost his seat but regained it as the horse’s rear quarters dropped, its legs sliding beneath it, its hocks hitting the ground. Stratton grabbed its withers instinctively but could not keep his grip. Indeed, his instincts warned him not to. He slid off the horse’s side as the beast bounced back to its feet and he struck the ground hard, rolling a couple of times before coming to a stop.

The animal trotted off, shaking its head and snorting irritably. For a moment Stratton lay where he had landed, wondering if he had sustained any damage. He sat up slowly and removed his carbine from where it was slung on his back. Earth filled its muzzle where it had dug into the ground and he gritted his teeth irritably as he knocked the soil out.

Louisa walked her horse up to him. ‘You okay?’ she asked. ‘You did well.’

He looked up at her as he got to his feet, scowling angrily. But she just laughed at him.

‘You think that was funny?’

‘Yes, I do, actually.’

Stratton felt the anger beginning to well up inside him. His treasured composure was cracking. He did not like to be laughed at. ‘You stupid prat.’

Louisa stopped laughing but kept a broad grin on her face. ‘Temper, temper.’

‘I suggest you take a closer look around you and appreciate where you are.You’re a long way from your high-class college, playing your silly girly games.’

She tried to hold her smile but Stratton’s words stung. ‘You’re not just angry about falling off your horse?’

‘No, I’m not. I don’t appreciate being mocked by an immature princess like you. You’re in the real world here - one of the darker parts of it, at that - where actions and words can have serious consequences. Do yourself a favour and grow up.’

‘You think I don’t know where I am?’ Louisa retorted, her own anger surfacing. She jumped off her horse, stormed over to a heap of brush like the ones along the edge of the cliff that they had dodged around and pulled a section away to reveal a large wooden crate. She removed the heavy lid with some difficulty to uncover a huge coil of knotted climbing rope.

‘This cliff acts as a boundary for almost half the camp,’ she said. ‘We can only be attacked from one direction. But if we had to escape, the cliff would make it difficult for us.This rope reaches to the bottom. There are over a dozen of them.’

‘Whose idea was that?’

‘Mine,’ she said, looking smug.

‘You plan to get a couple of thousand people down a dozen ropes during a gun battle?’ Stratton asked as he stepped over to the chine to look down.

‘It’s only intended as a last-ditch escape route.’

‘Six hundred feet?’

‘At least some of us could get away.’

‘In the rain, at night? What about the women and children? The elderly? The wounded? And you think the men will leave without their families?’

The confident expression left Louisa’s face.

‘You set a camp with its back to a cliff you’d better plan to stand and fight,’ Stratton said, walking away. ‘Stick to ironing your father’s shirts.’

Louisa clenched her jaw, wanting to protest against his last comment, but for once she didn’t know what to say.

She climbed back onto her horse, took hold of the reins of the other one and trotted them up the hill the way they had come.

Near the top she saw Victor watching her and steered towards him. ‘You angry with me too?’ she asked as she halted her horse.

‘You could at least wait until after he has instructed the men before you try to kill him. Just because you don’t approve of him doesn’t mean you can act like that,’ Victor added.

‘Okay,’ Louisa said, as if she’d had enough preaching for one day. ‘But today he helps us, tomorrow he helps Neravista. That’s the problem I have with him.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Victor, you are as bad at judging people’s characters as my father is. Look at the man. Look at what he does.’

‘Before he came here perhaps he would have done the same for Neravista. But I don’t think he would now.’

‘He’s won your trust easily.’

‘Does my opinion no longer count with you?’

‘You know that’s not true.’ Louisa sighed heavily, wanting to change the subject. ‘I’m worried, Victor.’

‘You mean about last night?’

‘Is Sebastian going to lose control?’

Victor did not have an answer for that question. ‘It’s going to be different from now on, I think.’

‘What do you think will happen?’

‘I think you should leave. Go back to America or Europe.’

Louisa rejected that advice with a dismissive gesture. ‘If my mother had not died this rebellion might never have begun when it did. Did you know that?’

‘Your mother died long before the uprising.’

‘It took Sebastian several years to make his plans. He didn’t begin making them until after she died. She gave him her blessing on her deathbed. She fought against it while she was alive but she knew that was all he would live for once she was gone and so she made it easier for him. He would have succeeded had she been alive.’

‘You talk like it’s already over.’

‘I’m afraid for him.’

‘You think you can take the place of your mother?’

‘Is that so ridiculous?’

Victor did not know how to answer.

‘I can’t leave him, whatever happens. Tell me, why do
you
stay?’

Victor thought for a moment. ‘I believe in destiny, that I was put on this earth for a purpose. It wasn’t until I came here that I knew what that was. You see, I have always believed that the world was headed inexorably towards peace and contentment for all, no matter what evil existed. I never expected that it would be achieved in my lifetime but that didn’t matter. Anything I did to help would not be in vain. Others not yet born would take my place to continue the struggle. But one day I realised there was a flaw in that belief. If it was inevitable, then I was not essential to it. The world doesn’t need me.’

‘So why are you still here?’

He shrugged. ‘For something less noble. Recognition. I want it for myself.’

‘That’s not so bad a reason, Victor. It’s part of what distinguishes us from other living things. It’s only normal.’

Victor smiled, but what he could not tell Louisa was that he had begun to doubt himself. He feared it would lead to self-betrayal, which might eventually become something far worse. He also feared he was not the only one who was changing.

Back at the stables, Louisa dismounted and handed the reins of Stratton’s horse to a stable boy. As she unbuckled the saddle of her own horse she noticed a man whom she didn’t recognise standing by the corral looking at her. He wore the usual grubby military fatigues of the rebels. He took a piece of paper from a pocket, jammed it into a gap in the fence and walked away, glancing back to make sure she had seen what he’d done.

She watched him as he went down the path that led to the cabins and then she retrieved the note. When she looked back he was gone.

Louisa opened the note and read it, then screwed it up and leaned on the fence. The white horse walked over to her and she stroked his cheeks without focusing on him. He muzzled her hand and moved closer, demanding her undivided attention. ‘Are you feeling neglected today? Be thankful that is the worst of your problems,’ she said softly. ‘Remember one of father’s sayings? It’s your life-changing decisions that give life its meaning . . . That goes for you too.’

She kissed the white horse on the nose and walked away to her own animal, buckled up the saddle again, mounted and set off at a trot, quickly breaking into a canter across the open ground towards the edge of the jungle.

 

Louisa walked her sweat-covered horse along a shaded jungle path lined with the peeling trunks and branches of eucalyptus trees. She had covered several miles and now she peered through the trunks in search of a hut in a small clearing that she knew was somewhere close by. A sudden roll of distant thunder made her horse uneasy and she patted its flank to calm it. ‘Easy, Merlin. It’s only the rain coming.’

A patch of brightness ahead signalled the clearing and the hut soon came into view on its far side.

A saddled horse was tethered to a hitching post outside the hut. She stopped alongside it, dismounted and tossed her reins around the same wooden bar. Thunder crashed across the skies once again, this time preceded by a flash across the sky.

As the sound of thunder reverberated into the distance, she looked around the surroundings before facing the door of the hut. It was ajar and, mustering her courage, she walked inside.

Hector stood on the other side of the sparsely furnished dusty room, looking out through an opening, aware that he was no longer alone. The only furniture was a rickety table leaning against a thick wooden pole - which held up the centre of the ceiling - and a couple of chairs.

He turned to look at her, his face sombre. But a second later it lit up with a broad smile. ‘Louisa,’ he said, walking over to her and wrapping his heavy arms about her to hold her in a grizzly-bear hug. She almost disappeared inside his embrace before he held her out at arm’s length to take a look at her. Her response was cold but he was not dismayed, as if he expected it. ‘You were so beautiful last night you took my breath away.’

‘Spiritual leader?’ Louisa asked him sternly. ‘That’s how you described my father.’

‘I didn’t mean it in quite that way,’ Hector said, letting go of her. ‘I was trying to control the conversation. It was politics.’

‘What do you know about politics? You insulted him in front of everyone, suggesting that he’s been little more than a guide through this damned rebellion.’

‘I had to bring him down a peg or two.’

‘You ever thought about trying to elevate yourself instead?’

‘I’m forever glad he doesn’t have your kind of debating skills.’

Her expression stayed unchanged.

‘Louisa. Please. He has been like a god to us. I needed the others to see him as a mere man . . . one who makes mistakes.’

‘And what about you?’

‘Come on. I thought you took a degree in politics.

It’s a game . . . Okay,’ Hector then added quickly, regretting the comment. ‘It’s not a game. I retract that. I’m not as eloquent as you. I don’t have your education. But you know what I mean. Of all people, do I have to explain myself to you?’

‘What makes you think you’re right? Why are you so sure you’re not the one making the mistake?’

‘I’ll tell you why I know I’m right. Sebastian operates entirely on passion. His kind of passion is the fuel that ignites rebellions. I could not do it. I admit that. He is remarkable. But passion is blind, Louisa. It does not know when to pause and inspect the wreckage created by its own fury.’

‘And you’re the new voice of reason and sensibility, I suppose.’