18
////// In the wilderness of the Holy Dominion,
west of New Granada
As usual, a dense fog lay heavy in the wood as the sun rose, unseen, above the forest. The scent of invisible wood smoke was thick, and Fred Reynolds blinked sticky eyelids and rolled to a sitting position against a monolithic tree. He had a scratchy, burlaplike blanket now, in addition to his filthy robes, and it helped a little in the predawn chill; enough that he’d even slept through the swarms of mosquitoes that always came with the dawn. He yawned and scratched new welts on his arms as he blinked again and looked around. The soft sounds of the awakening camp were all around him: chuffing horses, quiet voices that carried amazingly far, the snap of twigs as other fires were made.
To his astonishment, he suddenly realized Kari-Faask was crouched before him near a small fire, roasting a pair of what resembled squirrels with long, meaty tails. She looked up at him and grinned, brandishing the steaming carcasses on the iron spit.
“If you sleeped much longer, I’d have ate both these myself,” she chided quietly.
“Kari!” Fred exclaimed, louder than intended. He looked quickly around. “What’re you doing here? If they catch you, we’ll both be in for it!”
Kari shook her head. “Nah. They ain’t worried ’bout me—or you—no more. I tole ’em we wouldn’t run off. Besides”—she gestured around—“where’d we go? I also tole ’em you’re my friend and I will run off, now I’m fit, first chance I get, if they keep keepin’ us apart.” She blinked curiosity. “They really don’t want me to do that. Say they need me for somethin’.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what, but I promised I’d do it, long as they leave us alone.”
“You shouldn’t have promised that, Kari,” Fred said lowly. “I don’t know what they’ve got in mind, but they’re weird, creepy ducks. For all I know, they might . . .” he stopped himself. “Maybe they’re not as bad as Doms—I hope!—but if you’d seen what I’ve seen, you might not trust anybody anymore.”
“I seen a lot, Fred. Maybe different from you, but probably just as bad,” she answered quietly, swishing her tail. “I thought I’d lost you to the goddaamn Doms, an’ I lost hope,” she admitted. “But I didn’t lose you! I was wrong to think so. Weak. I just didn’t hold my hope long enough, an’ I won’t never do that again.” She lowered the spit back toward the fire. “You saved me. Maybe these weirdos helped, but you was gonna do it sooner or later wifout them if you had to. I know that now. I trust you,” Kari said firmly. “In the air, in the water, here—anywhere.” She blinked thoughtfully. “An’ I trust my promise to Cap-i-taan Reddy an’ the Navy. Compared to that, any promise I made to these fellas is no stronger than them you had to make to that goddaamn Don Hernaan!” She gestured again with the spit. “I’ll do what I can for these fellas if it makes sense. I don’t think they wanna eat me or nothin’. But if it don’t make sense, we’ll haul our asses!”
Fred snorted. “Atta girl!” he murmured approvingly.
“Good morning!” said Captain Anson, approaching with a wooden bowl in his hand. He tossed Fred a skin that sloshed when he caught it. “Wine,” he explained, “or what passes for such hereabouts. Vile stuff, but rather refreshing when you get used to it. Mind if I join you?”
“Suit yourself,” Fred answered, uncorking the wineskin and taking a tentative sip. “Gha!” he said, but drank some more. Anson sat on a log beyond the little fire and turned his attention to the bowl, sipping the steaming broth between pauses to blow across it. Kari glanced at him occasionally, blinking wariness, and finally pulled one of the roasted creatures off the spit and handed it to Fred.
“Ow!” Fred chirped, handling his food gingerly. “Hot!” He blew on it and took a bite. “Pretty good, though. Tastes like chicken.”
Kari giggled. She’d eaten chicken in Scapa Flow and thought it tasted like akka birds.
“We call those ‘squeakies’ where I come from,” Anson said, then glanced up quickly.
“Squeakies, huh?” Fred pounced. “I don’t remember any ‘squeakies’ in the Empire.”
Anson waved it away. “I guess you didn’t spend much time in the colonies, up north.”
“No,” Fred admitted, still suspicious. “No, we didn’t. Never ate anything there.” He nodded at Kari. “Our plane got knocked down and we got captured before we ever had a chance. Are you saying that’s where you’re from?”
Anson grinned. “No. But if that’s what you want to think, it will suffice for now.”
“Well . . . why the big mystery? You haven’t told me squat. You’ve got to be convinced by now that we’re allies! We’re helping the damn Empire!”
“But does that truly make us allies?” Anson asked cryptically. “I wonder.” He shook his head and looked at Kari. “I heard about your tantrum. Quite impressive. You must really like this young man. Are all your people so devoted to their human friends?”
“We are—if they really our friends,” Kari replied defiantly.
“Well said,” Anson granted. He emptied his bowl and looked back the way he’d come. “We’ll be moving soon,” he predicted. “We’ve far to go for many days yet, but there’s a village on the coast where we should be welcome.”
“The coast?” Fred asked.
“Yes—in a manner of speaking. You’ll see when we get there. As I told you before, El Paso del Fuego is a most impressive sight, and one the Doms have fanatically guarded. When you gaze upon it, you’ll have the sense of a coastline where there shouldn’t be one! And the other aspects—the fuego!” He smiled.
“About that,” Fred said, “I don’t get that part. What’s it mean?”
“You will . . .” Anson stopped, looked around. The horses, tied to a picket line between several trees, were staring intently into the misty woods.
“What?”
“Silence!”
Something about the size and shape of an emu suddenly bolted out of the mist. Reynolds had glimpsed the things several times and been assured they were timid, harmless creatures in spite of a formidable array of small, needle-sharp teeth. Apparently they subsisted on bugs and small animals. Their tails were long and whip-thin, and they were covered with a thick coat of colorful but otherwise very emulike feathers. Because they were so timid, however, they usually bolted from view, and he hadn’t seen one up close before. This one was obviously running scared as well, but wasn’t watching where it was going. Large eyes in a small head at the end of a long, skinny neck stared behind it as it ran and it collided with one of their escorts.
Man and animal tumbled to the damp, ferny needles. With a horrified squawk, the thing leaped to its feet and scampered on, perhaps a little drunkenly. The man gasped, recovering his breath, and started to rise. Another “emusaurus,” as Fred spontaneously dubbed them, raced through the camp, then another. The horses squealed, rearing and tugging at the line. They weren’t afraid of the things, but instinctively knew that if anything was running from something, they probably should as well. More emusauruses stampeded past, perhaps twenty in all, before a horseman galloped into view. He was one of theirs, probably a picket who’d been on watch.
“Doms!” he hissed, loud enough for all to hear, then carried on unintelligibly as far as Fred was concerned, pointing urgently back the way he’d come and gesturing around as he spoke.
“What?” Fred demanded of Anson.
“Doms, as you heard. Blood Drinkers! Many of them. Closing in on three sides,” Anson snapped grimly. “To the horses! No, leave the blanket. There’s no time!”
A musket thumped dully in the humid air, then another. Two natives raced up and grabbed Kari, dragging her toward the horses.
“No, goddamn it!” Fred cried, knocking one man aside and pulling on Kari’s arm. “She goes with me!”
Another musket popped and was answered by a ragged volley. The mist was thinning slightly and muzzle flashes could be seen. Balls vrooped past and bark exploded from trees. A man screamed. The other native snarled at Fred and pulled a dagger from a rope belt. Kari kicked him savagely in the crotch, and when he doubled over, slammed her foot hard against the side of his head. He went down like a stone, senseless or dead.
“Well,” Anson said simply. Fred and Kari looked and saw him return a large pistol to a flap holster at his side, and at the same time it occurred to Fred that it was a revolver of some kind, he also had to wonder who he’d been prepared to shoot. “I suppose she does go with you, or rather, us.” Anson snapped at the other native, who’d also drawn a knife, and with a searching gaze, the man ran for a horse. “Quickly now, unless you wish to be guests of the Doms once more. I do assure you they’ll be even less hospitable than before!”
Shouted commands echoed in the trees, and another volley crackled. A sound like hornets sped all around them, and horses and men screamed shrilly. Musket balls ricocheted or exited bodies with warbling moans. Fred, Kari, and Anson sprang to the backs of three nervous horses probably being held for Kari and the two natives sent to get her. It didn’t matter to the holders who mounted now, as long as one was Kari, and they immediately raced away to fight or flee. Other muskets were firing now, from a slightly different direction, and one native stumbled and fell on his face.
“I’ve never ridden a horse!” Kari shouted uneasily, twisting her fingers in the thick mane. “I don’t know how!”
“Learn quickly,” Anson advised, spinning his mount around. “Grasp the mane farther up. Try to force the animal to look whichever direction I go. It will quickly get the idea and follow.” He glanced around. Most of their companions had fled, but twenty or so had taken cover and were firing muskets, pistols, or arrows toward the gun flashes that were becoming harder to see as dense white smoke replaced the mist. What had been a peaceful morning camp just moments before had become a battlefield. “Hold on tight,” he added, then drove his boot heels into his animal’s flanks.
Kari’s horse did get the idea, and soon they were loping away from the fight. The forest and poor visibility prevented them from moving as quickly as they’d like, but the moist air muffled their passage, and the sounds of battle quickly faded behind them. Sooner than Fred would’ve expected, Anson slowed their pace. “What now?” he demanded.
“This fog is heaven-sent.” Anson pointed left, west, Fred thought, but he was disoriented and it was impossible to tell for sure. “We must work our way in that direction and try to slip past the enemy.”
“Why don’t we just keep moving away from them?”
“They’re expecting that. This attack was well planned. For them to find us in this”—he waved around—“they had to know where we were headed. That’s understandable, but they also had to know exactly where we would camp. That place, long considered safe, has been compromised. Obviously, there was a traitor among us.” He grinned at Fred’s belligerent frown. “No, I know it isn’t you! Even if I hadn’t been watching you, there’s no way you could have known the location of that camp or told anyone about it. Personally, I suspect it may have been the man Ensign Faask disposed of so efficiently. Well done, that!”
“So that’s who you were about to shoot?”
Anson shrugged. “I was prepared to shoot whoever required shooting, and moments like that often reveal who they are.” He shook his head. “Let’s discuss this later, once free of this box we’re in. I did mention I suspect the attack was designed to drive us into the arms of another force. Kari was the priority of the people we were with, but you, Lieutenant Reynolds, are the priority of our pursuers. They will want you very badly, no doubt.”
Fred nodded. “Kari’s just an animal to them, but I know too much,” he agreed.
“Exactly.”
“Fine, let’s go. But when we’re in the clear, I think it’s time I knew more about you”—he looked pointedly at the flap holster at Anson’s side—“and that interesting pistol of yours.”