The Rogue Retrieval (7 page)

He dug into one of his saddlebags and came up with two hooded robes of plain brown with white stars embroidered over the heart. “So here's part one. You two are going to pose as Friars of the Star.”

“Who are they?” Quinn asked.

“Sworn pacifists,” Chaudri said. “They take a series of oaths not to use weapons except in the defense of their own lives.”

“It makes us look less like a small military squad,” Logan said.

Quinn took the cloak and paused. “Won't it seem a bit odd, since we're . . .”

“What?” Chaudri asked. All innocent, too.

Please don't make me say it out loud.
“You know.”

“A woman and a man?”

“Well, yeah,” Quinn said.

“The friarhood is open to both.”

I'll be damned.
“Very forward-­thinking of them.”

“Alissia scores better than Earth in some areas. Gender equality is one of them.”

Quinn tugged on the robe over his cloak. He was all about blending in, and not seeming a threat. “How should I play it?” he asked.

“Just let Chaudri do the talking,” Kiara said.

Great, she wanted him to take a vow of silence. “Sounds like fun,” Quinn said. “You know, I
do
act for a living.”

“Then act like Chaudri is doing all the talking.”

T
he somewhat regular vista of mature forest gave way to rocky terrain as they headed south. One morning, after the fog had cleared, Quinn saw the distant peaks of the mountains that marked the border between Felara and New Kestani. Another day and night of riding put them well into the foothills. Despite Kiara's sense of urgency, they had to slow down here; the hard-­packed dirt road had become gravel, and Logan disliked the reduced visibility of the road ahead. More than once he called a halt while he rode around blind turns or scouted ahead over the next ridge.

But this was Alissia, so of course it didn't matter how prepared they were.

The attack came at the worst time and place possible. The road had narrowed to little more than a goat trail sandwiched between a steep ridge on their left and a precipitous drop-­off to the right. Logan had the lead, Chaudri the rear, with Kiara and Quinn between them. Their only warning was the soft rattle of some gravel tumbling down the ridge just ahead of them. Out of nowhere, two gray-­clad men hidden among the rocks jumped out in front of Logan's horse. One of them swung a sword at Logan; the other went for his horse's reins.

“Ambush!” Logan shouted.

No shit.
Quinn wondered if he should draw his sword or keep up the pretense.

Logan leaned back and away from the blow, sawing at the reins to turn his horse around. The animal snorted and kicked one of the attackers; he tumbled over the edge and out of view. Then Logan had his sword out.

Quinn turned, saw two more figures in gray running up to box them in. “Behind us!” he shouted. Chaudri turned to engage the attackers. A small avalanche warned of more men coming down the rocky slope. Two of them. Kiara cut the first one down with her crossbow. The second charged right for Quinn.

“Shit!” Quinn said.
Survival trumps pretense.

He fought to get his sword handle free of the robe disguise. He drew the blade just as the man was on him. Quinn made a weak attempt at a thrust. The man knocked it aside—­this was definitely not a twelve-­year-­old boy. The returning slash should have taken off Quinn's arm at the shoulder, but instead glanced off the hidden armor. It hurt like hell. It also put the man off balance. He fell down in front of the mare. Instinctively Quinn spurred her, hard. She rode him down.

Quinn lashed the sword to his saddle and took up his bow. Logan had killed two more attackers; his sword was spattered red. Kiara turned aside a sword blow and ran a man through with her saber. Chaudri was locked in contest with another attacker. Quinn drew an arrow, put the sight pin on the man's back, and just loosed. Didn't even think about it. At ten yards, he couldn't miss. The shaft struck center mass. The man collapsed. Chaudri sagged in relief, and nodded her thanks.

Then all was still, but for the stomps of the horses and the panting riders atop them.

“Everyone all right?” Kiara asked. Two ragged forms lay motionless below her.

Chaudri had a nasty gash on one arm, and her hands were shaking. Quinn couldn't stop himself from looking back at the trampled mess of the man he'd ridden down. It had all happened so fast, and he was just trying to stay alive. But he had always been a creator. He made things: his tricks, his magic, the excitement of an audience. On the ground was something he'd
destroyed
. He felt his stomach roiling. He half fell out of his horse and threw up in the weeds.

Logan dismounted and checked one of the bodies. “Looks like an old Felaran uniform. Must be deserters from the battle for the gap,” he said. “They couldn't have picked a better place for an ambush. We were lucky.”

“Lucky?” Quinn said. He wiped his face with a sleeve and fought another wave of nausea. “How do you figure?”

“If they'd had bows, we'd be dead right now.”

Quinn's stomach lurched on him again. He dry-­heaved for a few minutes. Nothing came out; he was completely drained.

“Pull yourself together, Bradley,” Kiara said.

I'm
trying
.

She and Logan helped Chaudri climb out of the saddle. The gash on her arm wasn't as bad as it looked. Logan broke out the med kit. They shook hemostatic powder onto the wound to stop the bleeding, and wrapped it up tight with bandages. Logan wanted a look at Quinn's shoulder next. The skin was already black and blue where the sword had hit him.

“Not much I can do about this,” Logan said. “It's going to hurt like hell tomorrow.”

“Great. That gives me something to look forward to,” Quinn said.

“Look at the bright side,” Logan said. “It'll remind you to keep your guard up next time.”

 

“Felarans and New Kestani are Alissia's answer to the Hatfields and McCoys.”

—­
R
.
H
OLT,
“A
LISS
IA:
P
OLITICAL
O
VERVIEW
”

CHAPTER 6

BORDER CROSSING

T
wo days after the ambush, the mountains pressed in all around them.

“We've been spotted,” Logan said quietly. “No, don't look around. Ridge to the northwest. They're good, whoever they are.”

“The Kestani at last,” Kiara said. “Remember the story, ­people. We need to sell this just right.”

Within ten minutes, there were watchers on both sides. According to Logan, at least. Quinn didn't see anything, but he was under orders not to “look around like an idiot.”

At Kiara's signal, they slowed the horses to a walk. It wasn't long until a squad of pikemen in maroon-­slashed uniforms materialized on the trail to bar their way.

“Can I help you?” Kiara asked. Her voice had a sudden inflection to it, almost a hint of British royalty.

“Name and purpose,” one of the soldiers said.

She turned up her chin. “I'll give you my name, soldier, when you give me yours.”

Quinn tried to hide his rising panic. What the hell was she doing? These soldiers were going to butcher them like cattle.

But something about her retort had changed things with the soldiers. “Apologies, my lady,” the one said. He straightened. “Captain Darenko, Kestani advance guard.”

“And I am Kiara. Now, move your oafs aside so we can be on our way. We have a schedule to keep.”

“Sorry. No one from Felara is permitted through.”

“Are you deaf as well as blind? We're from Valteron!”

“I meant no off—­”

“You may slap yourself later for the offense, intended or not. Now, out of our way.”

“You'll have to speak to the commander before going through.”

Kiara scoffed in perfectly feigned disgust. “I don't have time to speak to unwashed soldiers all day. We'd like to clear the pass before nightfall.”

“Everyone speaks to the commander. No exceptions.”

Kiara waited a moment as if considering this proposal, then sighed. “Very well. Lead on.”

The man who'd spoken and another soldier beckoned them forward, deeper into the pass. The other two fell in behind Chaudri once they'd passed. They seemed peaceful enough, and theoretically Quinn had the protection of his assumed brotherhood, but the thought of the spears behind him made his back itch. Ahead, the pass widened into a small canyon into which the Kestani—­or possibly the Felarans, before being routed—­had built a considerable fortress. They rode past lines of sharpened stakes buried in the ground, pointing outward at an angle like spines on a porcupine. Logan muttered something about “horse killers.”

Beyond these was a stockade wall, peppered with slits manned by archers and crossbowmen. Above and behind them were wooden platforms with machinery that Quinn recognized as catapults. These were loaded and ready to fire, pointed toward the north end of the pass. He sucked in a sharp breath, wowed by the display.

A low, square building squatted beside the catapult platform. The soldier who'd led their escort excused himself and ducked inside to retrieve the commander. He returned with a thin, energetic man with dark hair and a goatee speckled with gray.

“Are you in command here?” Kiara demanded.

Her imperious tone washed over this man like a wave crashing on shore. He spent a long moment taking them in, frowning as he looked at the weapons strapped to their horses. “I am.”

“Commands and those who give them are a thing of war,” Chaudri said. “Peace has no need of either.”

Quinn had to bite his lip. Chaudri knew what she was doing, all right. Came out of nowhere and just
sold
it. No one even blinked. She'd really missed her calling on the stage.

The commander cleared his throat. “Well said, sister. But peace is a long way off for us.”

“Peace is right in front of everyone, if they could look for it,” Chaudri said.

Kiara coughed into her hand, and the message was pretty clear:
Dial it back, Chaudri.

“Your man says that we have to see you before going through the pass,” she said. “So here we are. Have we wasted enough of each other's time yet?”

“Where are you from?”

“Valteron, of course,” she said.

“Why were you in Felara?”

“The same reason I go anywhere. To buy and sell and make a profit.”

“I see,” said the commander. He walked past her and along the horses, looking it all over with a sort of casual air.

“Do you?” Kiara asked. “Because every moment I waste here costs me money.”

The commander seemed to notice Chaudri's bandaged arm for the first time. “Looks like you had some trouble on the road.”

Kiara flicked a hand at Logan, as if the discussion of such things was beneath her.

Logan cleared his throat. “If I may, Commander?” he asked. Polite, deferential. That was good. Play to his ego, since Kiara had trodden all over it.

The commander perked up a bit, and gave Logan a curt nod.

“We were attacked by bandits about a half day's ride from here,” Logan said. “Six men in old Felaran uniforms.”

The man grunted. “Deserters. I'm not surprised, given the routing we gave them. Did you lose any men? Or cargo?”

“We fought them off, thanks to the good brothers here,” Logan said. He nodded at Quinn and Chaudri.

“Our arms can swing a sword,” Chaudri said. “But only with sadness.”

“Great sadness,” Quinn echoed, in a low tone. He just couldn't help himself.

Logan coughed, covering his mouth with his hand.

“How fortunate,” the commander said. “In any case, we'll send a patrol down to ensure that there were no survivors.”

“Good,” Kiara said. “We'll be on our way, then.”

The man strolled back toward her, rubbing his chin. “See, the thing is, we're looking for three Felaran spies.”

“Good for you,” Kiara said.

“A large man with dark skin. A studious, quiet one. And a woman in charge.”

Uh-­oh. This was starting to feel like another one of Holt's little surprises. Quinn slid a hand into his sleeve and brushed his fingertips against the mechanism there. If push came to shove, he could surprise these soldiers. Maybe buy them a little bit of time to flee back down the mountain . . . no, not with the defenses they'd seen. These soldiers weren't screwing around.

Damn.

“I'm not sure I like what you're implying, Commander,” Kiara said.

He shrugged. “We get a warning like that, we pay attention.”

A few more soldiers had materialized around them, all of them holding hooked spears. Quinn recognized them, too, from his training. They were for pulling riders out of the saddle. Kiara had told him in no uncertain terms to stay quiet, but he didn't have much of a choice.

“I killed a man today,” he said.

His words caught the commander by surprise. Kiara threw him a sharp look.

“It was my own failing,” Quinn said. He made his face a mask of pained regret. “Just as letting those Felarans escape was yours.”

“We're not the ones who attacked you. Blame Felara,” the commander said. But the corner of his eye trembled, almost like a nervous tic.

Quinn pounced on him. “You drove them upon us!” He was using his stage voice now, and the words carried. Other men in the encampment turned toward them. Then the lyric just popped into his head. “So now we've come to you, with open arms. Nothing to hide.” He held out his arms, palms open, imploring him. “Believe what I say.”

The soldiers around them hunched a little at his words. Lowered their weapons just a fraction, too.

“Yes, well . . . I suppose that's true,” the commander said. “But we still got the warning.”

Kiara had stopped glaring at Quinn, and now pursed her lips. There was blood in the water, and she was circling.

Yes
, Quinn thought, trying to will her to action.
Go for it.

“Let me guess,” Kiara said. “A graying fellow, traveling alone, with a backpack and a borrowed horse.”

The commander's eye trembled again. Oh, what a delightful tell that was.

“I knew it,” said Kiara. “His name is Richard and he's my biggest rival in Valteron.”

“He warned us that—­” the commander began.

“Of course he warned you. The bastard would say anything to slow me down by a day, with the kind of cargo I'm carrying.”

“And what is that?” the commander asked. Still suspicious, but more circumspect about it.

“Mostly gems,” Kiara said. She nodded at Logan.

He reached into a bag—­slowly, as a few of the guards tensed—­and produced a leather satchel filled with polished stones. Rubies, emeralds, amethysts. From what Quinn had been told, they were worth a fortune in this world, even if they'd been synthetically created back in the company laboratory. Kiara beckoned Logan over, selected a ruby about the size of a robin's egg. “Perhaps a contribution to your war effort would speed this along?”

The commander wavered a moment, but the way he stared at the gem said plenty. A mark was a mark. Quinn's tense shoulders started to loosen.

“Your support is appreciated,” he said at last. He took the gem, held it up to the sunlight for a look. Then he tossed it to a soldier. “Strongbox.”

“With your permission, Commander,” Kiara said. She picked up her reins. “The sooner I'm off Felaran soil, the better.”

The perfect thing to say. If he could have, Quinn would have applauded her.

The commander allowed a tight smile. “Now there's a sentiment I can agree with. Speak of what you've seen to no one, even in New Kestani. Felarans have spies everywhere.”

“You have my word, Commander. Not a whisper to anyone.” She tapped a finger on her chin. “My competitor. Did he happen to say where he was headed?”

“Can't say I recall.”

Kiara flipped him another gem, this time an emerald. “How's your memory now?”

“Getting better.” The commander scratched his head. “Still foggy, though.”

Quinn fought the grin that wanted to take over his face. This guy had some balls.

Or jewels, as it were.

She tossed him a sapphire about the size of Quinn's thumb. Now there was a substantial bribe; that gem could probably fund the entire garrison for a month.

“South, I believe it was,” the commander said. He looked to one of his soldiers, who nodded in agreement. “Back to Valteron, just like you.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Kiara said. She made a sour face. “I do hope your memory clears up faster the next time.”

“I'm sure it will, my lady,” he said. He handed her a small square of parchment with a maroon wax seal at the bottom. “This will get you through to New Kestani.” He put two fingers to his forehead and gestured to Chaudri, then to Quinn. “Brother. Sister.”

Quinn gave him a solemn nod. It was all he could trust himself to do.

They rode slowly out of the battlements and began winding their way out of the canyon to the Kestani side of the pass.

“Really went on a limb out there, Bradley,” Logan said quietly.

“I had to say something. They were about to string us up.”

“Maybe avoid the Journey lyrics, next time.”

“I hope there isn't a next time,” Quinn said.

Logan chuckled. “Don't stop believing.”

At two narrow funnel points in the road they encountered squads of soldiers, but their wax-­sealed parchment got them through without delay, and a thought occurred to Quinn: they might even be gaining on Holt. He felt a thrill, thinking about it.

I can't wait to meet this guy.

L
ogan had to admit that they were making good time. Nevil's Gap put them at the narrowest point of New Kestani, squeezed between the border mountains and an inlet bay shared with the city-­state of Tion to the south. That was if Kiara's maps were accurate. Holt might have tampered with the Alissian geographical data. Logan didn't trust the maps, didn't trust anything the man had touched before he left, and had voiced that numerous times.

The lieutenant was unfazed. “The survey teams went over them twice with their notes. They couldn't find any significant changes.”

Logan shrugged. “Holt's too smart to leave a trail.”
And we usually don't catch on to his little surprises until it's too late.

They rode on.

The trail widened enough that he could drop back to ride beside the magician. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

Bradley shrugged. Didn't say anything, where normally he'd have a joke or a smart-­ass reply.

“You did well in the ambush,” Logan said. “Only forgot about half of what I taught you.”

“I'm glad I didn't drop my sword,” Bradley said. “They just came out of nowhere and were on us.”

“Hate to tell you, but that's usually how it goes,” Logan said. “Even back home. Middle Eastern fighters are all about guerilla warfare. Roadside bombs, sneak attacks, assassinations. You don't get prep time or warnings. That's why we train the way we do.”

Bradley looked down and away from him. “When I shot him, I—­I didn't even think about it.”

“That's good,” Logan said.

“How is that
good
?”

“You relied on instinct, and you stayed alive. That's all that matters.”

“I guess,” Bradley said.

Logan would have told him that it got easier, that he'd get over it. But that would be a lie, so he left Bradley to his haunting thoughts and rode up to check on Kiara's progress with the radioisotope scanner. “Anything yet?”