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Dane woke a half hour before dawn and began to dress. Axel slept next to him peacefully. He looked at her and marveled, tracing every feature of her face with his eyes, the thought of holding her again nearly overwhelming him. But there was work to do this day.
“Axel,” he said quietly, trying to wake her. She stirred, then opened her eyes and smiled.
“The best part of the dream,” she said, “Is when the prince is there the next morning.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “I have to go. Layton will see to your men.”
She nodded. “Of course in the dream the princess is not a prisoner.”
“You will never be a prisoner as long as I am prince. Except for today,” he said.
“Humph!”
“Follow your captor’s orders, and I’ll see you at the reception tomorrow.” He rose to leave.
“Dane, there’s something more I want to tell you.”
“Not now, Axel,” he said, only half turning back, grabbing his rifle and releasing the safety. “I’ve still got work to do.” Then he was gone.
She stood up in the center of the room, bed covers dangling around her.
“I love you, Dane Cochrane,” she said softly as the tent flaps rustled shut behind him.
***
DANE NODDED TO HIS sentries as he emerged from the tent. “Wait one hour, then release her,” he said.
“Aye, Sire.”
Dane found Layton and Brake just as the first inkling of sunrise began to the east.
“Layton, I want you to assemble Colonel Noiman’s’ unit in one hour. Tell them I have given orders for their rifles to be returned under one condition only, that they agree to head southwest and take on General Tannace. It is their only option. Any resistance, any man who so much as turns around, is to be taken out of the game. Clear?”
“Clear Sire.”
“Good. Place their weapons up on the ridge, where they’ll have to hike a ways to get them. Then I want you to assemble the troop and head for the pass. Once Tannace disposes of the Colonel’s men he’ll probably figure out the situation and send runners through. Your sole job is to stop them, even if it costs every man in the unit. They’ll be plenty of glory to go around for everyone at the reception tomorrow. Understood?”
“Yes, Sire. Where will you be?”
“Brake and I are going to make for the pass, flat out, once the day begins. With luck we’ll reach the goal in a couple of hours and have this all wrapped up.” Dane noted a look of dissatisfaction on Layton’s face. “Problem?” he said. Layton shook his head.
“No problem, Sire. Concern. General Tannace wants you dead. Once he finds out you’ve outwitted him he may send men to finish you off, for real. In his current state he could try anything.”
“Leave Tannace to me. Something you must understand, both of you, Tannace and I must face each other, and soon. Our mutual goal of rescuing Quantar is too important for the camp to be divided over us. One of us must lead, and one must step aside. It’s my hope neither one of us will have to die. But we must face that possibility. And don’t worry too much, Mr. Layton, I’ll have Brake here to protect me.” He nodded to the big man.
“Uhh,” the mercenary grunted.
“Go to it, Layton. Brake, you feel up to running ten kilos over hard terrain?”
“Yes, Sire. Just lead the way.”
Dane lead Brake to the outskirts of camp and then stopped to stretch. Brake did likewise. Three minutes later a Sanctuary vertiplane flew overhead and blew the starting horn for the day. It echoed through the valley.
Dane looked to Brake, who nodded.
“Let’s go!” said Dane.
They headed north, the twin peaks of the pass entrance looming ahead of them.
***
THE PASS WAS ROUGH going. After an hour Dane ordered a halt and he and Brake drank water from their kits. They were both breathing heavily.
“We’re not making very good time, are we?”
“No Sire. But there’s still no sign of any company.”
Right on cue the sound of coil rifle fire crackled through the pass. The two men ducked instinctively.
“How far?” asked Dane. The mercenary turned a trained ear to the fading echo.
“Sounds like half a kilo, maybe. Hard to tell, sound carries funny in here.”
“Half a kilometer,” Dane drifted off into thought. “How soon before you’re ready?”
Brake shouldered his rifle. “Ready now, Sire. But...” he hesitated.
“But what?”
“I could double back, slow them down. You’re in better shape for the final run. It would give me a chance to scout for any funny business from the General and his men.”
Dane eyed his companion. His long beard and shaggy hair were matted with sweat and his breathing indicated that he was nearly worn out. The fact that he was twenty years older and several kilograms heavier than Dane was taking its toll. Brake returned his gaze, knowing he was being sized up and clearly not liking it. Dane suddenly realized he had placed his life in the hands of a man he knew virtually nothing about. He made his decision.
“Go,” he said, adding a nod of his head. Brake started to move off slowly, looking for cover. “But be careful, if Tannace has gotten this close to us he’s even more resourceful than I thought. And he’s just as liable to try something with you as with me,” Brake nodded acknowledgement.
“Aye, Sire. Good luck.”
“You too,” said Dane, then broke for the trail at a dead run, not looking back.
The terrain seemed to be an easier go now, and Dane realized the earlier problems may have been due to maintaining a slower pace to accommodate Brake. He felt his body reach a rhythm, legs and heart pumping together, rifle held high, poised in his hands. He even noticed that the leaves had turned color on many of the trees, some falling gently to the ground as he ran. Reds, yellows, and fading greens gave the forest a covering of splendor he hadn’t seen since he had left home. The thought of Quantar created a longing in his emotions.
He began heading down, the trail here all rocks and loose dirt. It made for tougher going. He heard the sound of coil rifles firing in the distance, but he couldn’t tell from the sound if they were on low settings or high, or if they were any closer than before.
He picked up the pace slightly on the broken rocks. Trees surrounded him on the trail now, and he had to watch for roots.
The sound of a coil rifle much closer and clearer made him slow for a second. It was now obvious.
Someone was shooting at him.
He turned to look back, still running, unable to determine if the rifle fire was within the bounds of the game or carried with it a more deadly intent. When he returned his attention to the trail he saw the tree root directly in his path. Against his training he flinched when he saw it, broke stride and tried to leap over it, landing awkwardly with his heel on the back side of the root. The pop from his left ankle was nauseating.
He tumbled forward, the rifle dropping as he braced himself for the fall. He landed on his left side, then rolled to his back, holding the ankle. He wanted to scream out, but knew it would only give away his position to the shooter. Dane rolled back and forth, holding the ankle in agony. He had injured it before in a sports game at the academy, tearing three ligaments in the process. The ankle had healed nicely, but he would never be without some weakness in it, weakness which had betrayed him at the worst possible time. He crawled forward, looking for his rifle. It had slid down the steep embankment some twenty meters, beyond the point where Dane and his bad ankle could reach it. He gave up on the rifle and began massaging the ankle. It seemed to be a bad sprain. The sound of multiple rifles firing echoed along the hillside. They seemed to be closer, but engaged with each other.
He took all the time he dared, then leaned against a nearby sapling and raised himself to his feet. The ankle was painful, but after a few short steps he was able to put some weight on it. He moved slowly down the hillside, threshing through the brush as he went, looking for a walking stick. He finally found one suitable and began making his way down again. To his surprise he was able to make reasonable time using the stick to support his weaker leg.
Dane heard the sound of rifle fire again. There was no mistaking it now, they were closing in. He picked up the pace as much as he could, the pounding on his ankle taking a fierce toll. He wasn’t sure how much further he could go on. Just then he rounded a bend in the trail, the hillside suddenly falling off to even ground. A rifle shot went past him on the left, singeing the branches of a huge cedar tree. No question now as to the power setting.
“Cochrane!” It was Tannace, shouting at him from about two hundred meters up the trail. Dane skirted feverishly around the bend and out of Tannace’s firing line. He found himself in a broad meadow enclosed by evergreen trees on al sides. To his surprise there was something directly in the center of the meadow.
It was a small white pyramid structure with one side facing him, an arch peeled back to reveal a door, barely large enough for a man. A flat silver plate to the right of the door was the only possible entry key visible. Dane hurriedly made his way through the meadow to stand in front of the door. Multiple rifle shots sounded behind him.
The structure looked to made of some kind of ceramic, while the door was a pair of seamed slabs identical to the plate material. Dane quickly eyed the plate. He could see it was a translucent metal which seemed to almost glow silver in the light as he looked closer. A shot rang out from the trees behind him. He hit the ground. The shot made contact with the door directly where he had been standing. He looked up to see that the door was untouched. It seemed to merely absorb the energy from the rifle fire. Dane jumped up and looked to the trees. Tannace was coming down the trail for him at a dead run. Dane pounded the door with his fist. It wasn’t even warm where the rifle fire had hit it.
“Rijkard, open up, damn you!” he shouted. He tried placing his combat register against the plate, nothing happened. He dropped the register, then in desperation pounded his open palm against the plate. He felt an odd sensation of warmth, then looked down to see his hand sink into the plate, it’s metal composition changing to that of warm wax, absorbing his hand fully. The door slid open. Dane turned to see Tannace only thirty meters back, lining him up for a final shot.
“Cochrane!” yelled Tannace, “stop where you are!”
Dane didn’t hesitate, diving through the open doorway as he heard the rifle crack as Tannace fired. The door shut automatically behind him as he rolled through, protecting his injured ankle and then popping up to a defensive crouch. All was quiet within, save for a gentle hum of power.
The room was small, just over four meters square, lit from the back. As Dane stood up his head barely cleared the ceiling. A single illuminated pedestal was against the far wall. Dane approached cautiously, wondering what it might contain. He looked at the top of the pedestal and noticed the outline of a human hand. He looked around the room once, noting no other features at all, obvious or otherwise, then placed his hand over the outline. The pedestal opened from within and a small gleaming object was revealed. Dane looked closer.
A ring.
Three Chevrons and the head of a Quarterboar. It was his father’s ring.
The Signet of Quantar.
He reached out in astonishment, and picked up the ring, placing on the small finger of his left hand without thinking, and stared at it.
But how? he thought. This must be Rijkard’s doing. He felt a pin prick on his finger then. The ring was checking his DNA, verifying the owner as legitimate, as it was designed to do. A moment passed and the sting of the needle subsided. Apparently the ring had its answer.
Dane turned back to the door, remembering his predicament, realizing he had no idea how to get back out again. He had to go out now, to face Tannace. He had won the contest, and if he was to die now he would do it with his father’s ring on. The wearer of it was for all intents and purposes the ruling Director of Quantar. He tried not to think about what that implied.
“No time like the present,” he said aloud, then walked to the door. To his surprise it opened automatically. Must be a proximity sensor, he thought, or possibly keyed by my discovery of the ring. Sunlight came through the open doorway, but there was no sign of General Tannace. Dane took a deep breath and stepped out.
“Stop right there!” Tannace had come from his left, behind the pyramid. He held the warm muzzle of his coil rifle to Dane’s ear. Dane stared straight ahead to the glade of trees, wondering if it would be his last sight. He swallowed hard and then slowly held up his hand with the Director’s ring on it.
“I’ve won Tannace, the game is over,” he said. Tannace stiffened, but hesitated only a second.
“This is a trick, like escaping the trial! One of Rijkard’s deceptions!”
“No trick, Tannace. It’s the signet ring of Quantar. And it’s keyed and coded to my DNA, and mine only.”
“I don’t believe it!” he was angry. He stepped back and signaled to the tree line. Four armed men from Tannace’s unit came running into the meadow and hustled up behind their General. Tannace took his eyes off Dane to acknowledge his arriving men. It was his only mistake.
Brake came rushing from behind the pyramid, the same way Tannace had come. The General turned just in time to take the butt of Brake’s rifle in the chin. He fell instantly, his own rifle cackling harmlessly on the rocky ground, unconscious. Brake whipped around and pointed his rifle squarely at the four rushing men.
“Hold it right there,” he said. The four men stopped in their tracks. “Sorry I’m late, Sire,” he said to Dane.
“Apologize later,” said Dane, and walked past Brake to stand between him and Tannace’s men.
“Sire!” said Brake.
“Stand firm man!” Dane shouted over his shoulder. He walked up to Tannace’s men, holding the ring out for them to see. From the looks on their faces he could tell they knew what it was. He addressed the highest ranking officer.
“Corporal, do you recognize this ring?” Dane said to the senior soldier.
“Yyyess,” he answered hesitantly.
“Corporal, use your radio. Tell Dr. Rijkard that the game is over, and the prize is won.” The corporal eyed him warily, fidgeting with his gun. He looked to his comrades, who offered only stone-faced looks back, then to Tannace lying on the ground.
“Corporal,” said Dane evenly. The corporal turned back to him.
“That was an order.”
The corporal broke Dane’s gaze to look at the ring, then back again to Dane.
“Yes, Sire,” he said.