The Narrow Path To War

by D L Frizzell

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "You're going to answer for what you did," Redland snarled at Benac. "There was no reason for them to suspect you weren't really my prisoner."

  "No, I will not answer," Benac countered. "In fact, it is you who will have to answer for it." He tilted his head back and poured water from a canteen into his mouth. He swallowed most of it and wiped the rest off his chin. "You could have easily shot me, lawman. Instead, you shot that man on the train.”

  "You've ruined any chance I had to go back and continue my work," Redland seethed. "How do you think The Guile has gotten all this information over the years? You needed contacts on the inside to provide it, and I was supposed to return with certain...results."

  "You have such a high opinion of yourself, lawman," Benac laughed. "You are not our only means of passing information, and certainly not the most important." Benac looped the canteen over his saddle and slid his tongue through his cleaved lower lip. "But it doesn't matter. We have bypassed that traitor Daigre, whose hands will take the place of Norio's in my saddlebag. The Plainsmen have all the evidence they need of another invasion and will make their move against us. The Guile will send his armies to meet them in return." Benac showed his satisfaction with a wide, deformed grin. "Thanks to you, this war is assured. We even have proof of their electronics now. The train, plus that lightning weapon that was used on me are more than sufficient for that. I will certainly become a citizen of the palace for my efforts, marshal." He beamed, looking all the more despicable for it.

  It was the first time Benac called Redland by his title, and Redland despised him for it. It had never been his intent to become embroiled in the conflict, just make some extra money in addition to what the Council paid him. Now, everything he had worked for was forfeit. Benac had been shrewd to attack the station personnel. He was not the unsophisticated slob he presented himself to be, and Redland's underestimation of him led to his foolish mistake of shooting the train conductor. Redland begrudgingly admitted it to himself - he was now firmly in Benac's camp. His bridges were burned, literally, and he had no choice but to go along with the Jovian. His plan was not a total loss, but it would take some work to set it back on course.

  Several hours later, the two saw the outline of Edgewood against the horizon.

  "We will wait for Daigre on the plains east of the town," Benac directed. "There, you will kill him, and I will take back command of my Jugs and retrieve the scroll."

  "Of course," Redland answered. He looked at Edgewood ahead and saw the grey smoke of the refinery rising into the clear blue sky. It was one of the Plainsmen's most important assets, both strategically located and home for a valuable industry. The militia would be there, setting a trap for Daigre and his Jugs. With luck, Daigre would never make it that far. Still the circumstances presented Redland with a problem. How was he going to get Benac past Edgewood without being noticed? The horses wouldn’t be able to navigate the marshes, and he couldn’t use the Benac-as-prisoner gambit again. Seneca wouldn't fall for it, and besides, Benac was too bloodthirsty. He would almost certainly pull the same stunt he did at the station. Redland hoped for something new to work with. Maybe he could get away from Benac long enough to get Alex's help. The boy was naive, he figured. That alone would make him useful.

  It was then that Redland noticed something odd. A brood of wild groundbirds all scurried in unison towards him and Benac. Normally they were the most cowardly of creatures, and never ran towards other animals. Yet, as the horses trudged forward, the groundbirds scurried frantically across their path, changing course only enough to run between the horses' legs. Once they were past, they continued fleeing across the plain.

  "Hold up," Redland told Benac. "Something's not right."

  Benac threw an angry look at Redland but complied. As the two sat on their horses, Redland recalled something he had heard once. He let go of Jaeger's reins to see what he would do. Jaeger was not a fearful horse. On the contrary, he was desensitized to many things that would scare a normal horse. Yet, he turned and began walking in the same direction the groundbirds were headed. Redland grabbed the reins and redirected him back on course. He sidled up to Benac and climbed down. He handed the reins to the Jovian, and then pulled a rifle and a pair of binoculars from his gear. Benac looked at him with confusion.

  "Take the horses over there and make camp." Redland pointed at a rock outcropping to the east. "Keep out of sight and wait for me to get back."

  "Why?" Benac demanded.

  "Those birds that ran by," Redland answered. "They're afraid of everything. If they ignored us, then it can only mean that there's something over there," he pointed at Edgewood, "that they’re more afraid of."

  Benac looked at Edgewood with uncertainty. Noticing the seriousness in Redland's voice, he nodded his head and headed where he was instructed.

  Redland stayed low as he snuck across the plain towards Edgewood, grateful for the respite from Benac’s presence. He angled his approach into a nearby cornfield, where the plants were tall enough that he could stand without being seen. From there, he covered the rest of the distance to the town quickly. Slowing down again when he spotted several horse patrols, he let them pass by while he appraised the situation.

  He had to admire Seneca's methods. The colonel used random patrol patterns to effectively cover the large swath of land where Daigre would have to cross the plains. He didn’t understand why Seneca hadn’t brought more troops, as he figured the train would have held more, or better yet, made multiple trips before the Jugs arrived. Still, he had set up an effective gauntlet between the desert sands and the marshes. Anyone who hoped to make it to the Crumbles would have to proceed on foot if they wanted any chance of going undetected.

  That didn't mean he liked the situation. It just made his task that much more difficult. He could easily bypass the patrols if he wanted, though it would mean leaving Jaeger behind. Benac wouldn’t agree to walking, of that he was certain. It became a question of diversion, and it would have to be something pretty big. However, no longer being constrained by the law, he felt he could gain an advantage. He turned his binoculars on the grove.

  There were no workers among the Mokri trees. Apparently, the militia had co-opted them to patrol the gauntlet. Redland knew the grove would be watched for trespassers, but likely not in large numbers around the outside perimeter. It would be a more efficient use of manpower if Seneca's men patrolled the main railway that ran through the trees. It was wide, straight, and had line of sight visibility across the entire grove.

  As Redland got close enough for unaided observation, he saw he'd been right. Sap carts sat untended beneath the leaning Mokri trees, neglected for days by the looks of them. Most of the carts were full, and the sticky sap overflowed onto the ground around them. He counted several water towers throughout the grove and noticed riflemen perched atop each of them with binoculars. There would be no way around them without being seen.

  He was about to move further around the grove when movement within the trees caught his eye. It might have been another patrol, so he waited in the tall grass to observe them.

  It wasn't a patrol. It was two men on foot, and they were neither Plainsmen nor Jugs. Redland pulled up his binoculars again and focused on the pair. It was exactly what he feared when he saw the groundbirds fleeing. Making their way through the trees towards the center of the grove were two T'Neth warriors. Their rough brown clothing blended well with the trees, and they moved in perfect concert with one another. Redland was amazed at how agile they were. He lost sight of them a few times as they took a winding course toward a nearby water tower, then was surprised to see one of them appear on the tower behind the two watchmen. They never heard the T'Neth until it was too late.

  The T'Neth on the tower produced a sword in the blink of an eye and held it up to the first watchman's neck before he could cry out. At the same moment he spun on his heel and kicked the other in the throat, knocking him off the tower. The T’Neth below caught him a
nd eased him to the ground.

  Redland stayed where he was to get a first-hand look at the way they dealt with the two watchmen, both of whom were disarmed and held in place by the powerful hands on their throats. When they had finished a brief discussion with their prisoners, the T'Neth snapped their necks simultaneously.

  The T'Neth moved on to the next tower in the grove and dealt with those watchmen the same way. Redland was amazed at their coordination. They didn't miss a queue, despite being out of sight from one another much of the time. Each did their part in taking more watchmen down, questioning them, and killing them. Redland knew he risked being spotted. Regardless, he made his way toward them.

  When the T'Neth killed the watchmen on the fourth tower, Redland came up with a theory - they were clearing an escape path for Daigre. After thinking about it more, he decided that didn’t sound right. First, Daigre would not arrive for some time. Seneca would find his soldiers' bodies long before then and be warned of their approach. Second, the T'Neth weren’t conventional mercenaries. He had never heard of them working for a spy before. They seemed more content to simply watch territorial intrigue from the sidelines and take odd jobs that rarely paid well. That in itself was a contradiction to Redland. Anyone with such proven combat abilities would do well in any militia or criminal organization. As it was, they trained themselves as lethal killers, and then worked for peanuts.

  Redland felt suddenly afraid. He didn't know how they worked with such coordination, but that wasn't what frightened him. It wasn’t the fact that they showed no mercy, either. A warrior would suffer no bout of conscience by killing an enemy. It was when he realized that the T’Neth at the base of the tower had been catching the watchmen in mid-air. They never touched the ground until the T'Neth placed them there. Redland judged the height of the tower to be at least ten meters. He knew that nobody could catch a man from that height without serious injury. The T'Neth snatched them from the air repeatedly like feather pillows. Those damned groundbirds were smarter than they looked.

  Despite his instincts telling him otherwise, Redland continued following the T’Neth. He knew how to follow a person silently, and did so as they skirted the grove. At one point, they ducked behind trees as if they had heard a noise. Redland ducked as well, fearful he might have been spotted. His heart beat heavily within his chest, making it difficult to control his breathing. He chided himself for palpitating like a child afraid of the dark. As he sat with his back against a Mokri tree, sap oozed from the trunk onto his shoulder and dripped on his hat from the branches above.

  He heard a noise from the trees in the distance. Peeking around the tree to see what it was. He breathed easier when he realized it was only a horse without a rider. It had no saddle, so he guessed it had wandered out of the corral.

  When the T'Neth came out, they approached the horse cautiously. It wasn't until they saw it was riderless that they relaxed and stood up. What they didn't notice was the young stable hand standing no more than twenty meters behind them. They seemed oblivious to his presence, and Redland found that interesting. As competent as they were, they missed someone that could have hit them with a rock. The stable hand, to his credit, did not bolt right away. Instead, he turned slowly and started creeping away. The T'Neth still did not notice him, which baffled Redland. The kid finally made a crunching sound when he crossed some gravel, which should have been a dead giveaway. The T'Neth perked up and looked around but didn't see him because the kid had the sense to keep a large tree between them.

  It was an unlikely failure for the T'Neth. Redland watched as they began a systematic search of the area to find the source of the noise. It wasn't until they nearly bumped into the kid that they reacted. They were lightning fast, just as they had been at the water towers, but slow to notice him. Redland marked the observation as important, watching to see what they would do. He wished he hadn't. They threw the kid to the ground and, like the others, questioned him briefly. When all he did was cry, they sliced his throat and left him there. Redland felt a lump form in his throat. For some reason, he thought of Alex at the hands of these killers, and wished he hadn't sent him to Edgewood with Seneca.

  Redland turned away from the grisly scene, not wanting to watch the kid struggle as blood spurted from his throat. The T'Neth abandoned the dying boy and advanced through the trees with all deliberation. They were headed away from Redland. He felt no relief. Redland knew if they continued to encounter groups of people in two's or three's, they would have no trouble dispatching the entire militia.

  He stole another look at the T'Neth. They had returned to the nearest water tower and stopped to remove their clothes. They had been hiding behind trees as he had been, and were weighed down by sap that had soaked into their clothing. They stripped off their garments, wrung most of the sap out with their hands, then opened a supply cabinet at the base of the tower. There they found the detergent that the grovers kept used clean their own clothes.

  Redland thought it strange that they would stop to do their laundry before continuing into the grove, supposing they didn't want to be burdened by the heavy substance while they continued sneaking around. He then noticed something odd. Pulling his binoculars up, he focused on the T'Neth. Was that why The Guile wanted to talk to one in person?

  An idea occurred to Redland that would provide him with the distraction he needed to get Benac around Edgewood. There was one certain way to bring the militia and townspeople together in full force, right to where the T’Neth were standing. He moved back out of the grove to find what he needed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Alex angled across an unburned timber on the train’s first car as it began its upward swing. With the extra lift he got, he launched into a soaring arc toward the canyon’s edge.

  His legs absorbed half his momentum as he hit the gravel. Alex ducked and rolled. Not wanting to tumble too much and risk injury, he extended one foot ahead, pushed the heel of his boot into the ground, and slid to a stop on the gravel. He jumped up and ran towards the capstan on his side of the canyon. If he didn't get there ahead of the train, he would have no way to stop it. The fourth car had just passed him when he stood, so he broke into a run to get ahead of it. He would have no trouble outpacing the train, but would have little time to prepare the rope when he reached the capstan. He forced a little more speed from his legs, wishing he had his running shoes on.

  At the capstan, there must have been a hundred meters of excess rope winding along the canyon floor. The station personnel had never finished coiling it up before they were killed. Now he would have to retrieve it before he could suspend it across the canyon. Worse, the rock-nets hadn’t been moved back to their starting positions. Alex knew he would only beat the train to the capstans by seconds, so he gave up on the idea of making a textbook stop.

  Alex grabbed the rope, recognizing it immediately as a dynamic rope, which meant it would stretch. It was thick, but lighter than it looked. He yanked, and watched a long section sail over him to pile up in the dirt behind the capstan. He grabbed the incoming rope before it hit the ground and pulled again. On the fourth pull, he took the last of the slack out of the rope and lifted it off the canyon floor.

  He kept his eye on the train as it approached, gauging the time it would take to reach him. The bow of the train would pass him in moments, and he would lose his only opportunity if he missed it. Waiting until the last possible second, Alex pulled hard and loosened his grip. The rope arced up into the air, cleared the front of the train and fell onto the decking. Alex let go and jumped back. The rope would snap quickly when the train latched onto it, and he didn’t want to be in its path. As he cleared the ditch where the rock-nets lay, he saw the rope come to life and snake over the edge of the canyon until it went taut.

  The train was designed to brake from the tail hook on the rear section, not the front, so the rope caused the cars to crash together all at once. Wood fragments exploded into the sky along with plumes of soot. Burning embers within the train fle
w outward and showered the canyon with fiery sparks. The scorched decking came apart easily where the cars collided before dropping to the canyon floor. The entire train came to a wrenching halt with the crash of splintering lumber.

  Alex coughed as the breeze carried the soot over him. He covered his face and walked along the canyon to see what the train looked like, fearing he would see nothing but wood fragments strewn along the canyon floor. Although much of the wood was missing from the train's hull, it still floated the same way it had when Alex first boarded it nearly a week earlier. He could hardly believe his eyes.

  The dust settled to give him a clear look at the damage. It wasn't a train any more. It revealed something foreign, yet familiar, to Alex. Where sections of the hull had broken free and fallen off, he could see the smooth texture of a light blue metal underneath. "What the hell?" He thought back to Norio's cellar. The cellar had been made of the same blue metal with what looked like the same diameter. Now here was an entire train built upon the same material. It wasn't a cellar, Alex thought, and it certainly wasn't an ancient sewer pipe. It was something else entirely.

  The bug mule wandered into the station's garden with Kate still sitting upright in the saddle. It was eating a purple vegetable when Alex approached them.

  "She was hungry," Kate said.

  "It's okay," Alex replied, surveying the garden. "No one else is going to eat it." He stood there and watched the mule uproot another plant, not sure what to do next.