by Jim Johnson
Qebsenuf wheeled his horse around and rode alongside him. “His headcloth and weapons marked him clearly as a Ranger. He had shot Meret and was about to finish him off when we rode up and confronted him. I had hoped Meret would survive, but last night when we made camp before pushing on to the quarry, the Ranger and the survivors staged a revolt and overpowered Meret and the rest of my men.”
“And the villagers? How did they manage to marshal the strength and will to fight?”
Qebsenuf shrugged. “I suppose the desire to be free gave them the strength they needed.”
Zezago nodded. “As any strong-willed person might have done.”
Qebsenuf glanced at the armed men riding behind them. “The villagers are hurt and tired, Master Deshi. If we push hard, we should be able to catch up to them before they reach the crossroads and the bridge.”
“Where do you think they’ll go, once they reach the crossroads?” Zezago stared closely at his lieutenant, hoping there was some glimmer of intelligence within that scarred visage.
Qebsenuf considered it and then glanced at him. “I suppose the smartest route for them would be to make for the Kekhmet fort some hours ride from the river. I don’t see another option that makes any sense.”
Zezago nodded approvingly. “Well reasoned, Qebsenuf. That is my assessment as well. Now, next question. Given the variables you see before you and the resources stretched out behind us, what would your next step be?”
Qebsenuf again glanced at the soldiers and constructs marching along behind, and then turned to face the path ahead. His face furrowed in concentration. “There’s just one bridge across the river anywhere nearby and that’s at the crossroads. The Ranger and the villagers will reach that bridge before we do. There’s simply no time for us to get around them that way.”
Zezago nodded, but remained silent. The test wasn’t a hard one, but could his man work it through?
Qebsenuf continued. “There are two fords across the river in this province; one a short ride to the north, and a second farther south from the bridge. The last one is too far to be of use for us, but the northern one…”
Zezago glanced at him and offered a gentle prod. “Yes?”
Qebsenuf looked to be hard in thought, then nodded slowly. “We could split our column up into two companies, send one northeast through the ford and then south, while the other column moves south and then east over the bridge.”
“A pincers movement?”
Qebsenuf nodded. “Something like that. The column fording the river would be slowed, but I seem to recall the terrain on the other side of the river is pretty clear.” He looked vaguely in the direction of the ford, and nodded. “If we timed it right, we could get ahead of the Ranger and his caravan and catch them in a vise.”
Zezago pulled up reins, and Qebsenuf and the column behind him stopped. Zezago beamed at Qebsenuf. “You’ve worked through the problem, my good man. Well done. How would you feel about leading that second column across the river?”
Qebsenuf raised an eyebrow. “If you feel confident entrusting me with such a task, then I would be honored to do so.”
Zezago waved off the man’s comments. “You are an able lieutenant, Qebsenuf. One setback is not enough for me to purge you from my service.” He lowered his voice and leaned in so that only Qebsenuf could hear. “And besides, you are the only one I trust. I have no one else as reliable as you.”
Zezago settled back in his saddle and waved Qebsenuf toward the column of troops. “Go. Take all of the constructs and half the men. Ride hard to the ford, cross the river, and then make best speed to the fort.”
Qebsenuf grinned, unable to conceal his delight. How foolishly trusting he was.
Zezago fished around in his satchel for an amulet and after some rummaging, found the one he was looking for. It was a dense chunk of obsidian, roughly filed down and shaped into an arrowhead. One side had been worked to a smooth surface on which was etched finely-detailed letters in his native tongue. It pulsed softly in his hands with the latent power he had laced into it.
He closed his eyes and reached into the thing with his hekau to trigger the power there. The arrowhead pulsed once in his hands, then he tossed it to Qebsenuf, who caught it neatly out of the air. Qebsenuf stared at it with curiosity.
Zezago answered his unspoken question. “It’s a simple signaling device, little more than a magical sparker. When you and your column are in position on the road, loose it into the air as high as you can. It will explode and signal to me that you are ready. I will keep a watchful eye out for it.”
Qebsenuf shoved the amulet into his satchel. “I’ll do as you command, Master Deshi. Thank you for your faith in me.”
Zezago waved him toward the troops. “Go now, Qebsenuf. Do not fail me again.”
His lieutenant heeled his horse down the line of troops, shouting out orders to them. He paused near the line of constructs and uttered a few brief commands, and then without another glance, led his column through the trees, heading for the river shore.
Zezago watched them leave, then raised a hand to the remainder of his troops. “Come, we have prey to catch.”
CHAPTER 5
AS A LIGHT BREEZE RIPPLED THROUGH the trees lining the river shore, Tjety held Heker’s reins and watched the caravan move down the road. He raised his hand in farewell. A couple of the wounded adults in the back of the wagon and one child raised their hands in response. He sighed, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake sending them on ahead alone, but then shook his head and mounted Heker.
He settled onto Heker’s back and wheeled him around to face the northern end of the old trader’s road. The three villagers who had volunteered to ride with him, Khepri, Mut, and Yufa, were already mounted and waiting.
He put heel to Heker and walked over. “The deaths of your friends are an affront to Mayat and all she stands for and all that I have pledged to enforce. Their deaths demand justice be served.” He gestured with his wounded arm, in a sling made of his headcloth. “I can’t hope to stop the threat coming for us alone, and I am grateful for your help.”
The taller man, Mut, nodded and then spat a stream of dark liquid off to the far side of his horse. He must have secured some chewing weed from one of the dead bandits. “Just tell us what we can do to help, Ranger.” He touched the bandit pistol hanging from his waist. “I’m not great with a gun but I can scrap with the best of ‘em.”
Tjety nodded and walked Heker past them. “Just keep up as best you can and we’ll figure something out on the way north. My hope is that we can set up some form of roadblock and slow down any approaching riders. I don’t know what Qebsenuf has at his disposal, but we have to guess it’s mounted men and more of those walking unliving things.”
The three villagers fell in with him and followed him along the road. It was clear that none of them were experienced riders, though they all kept to their mounts well enough. He felt a strong sense of pride that all three of them had left the bandits’ Hesso-made saddles behind, favoring bareback riding with just bridles and blankets in the traditional Kekhmetic manner. Things couldn’t be all bad on the frontier if folks resisted the newer Hesso ways.
The lone woman to volunteer, Yufa, rode with knees and heels as she used both hands to work her thick black hair into a serviceable queue and then tied it off with a length of leather cord. Once finished, she took the reins with her hands and glanced at Tjety. “What are you doing this far north, Ranger? Thought your kind were all in the deep south, fighting the Kesh.”
“Most of them are fighting alongside Pharaoh’s regulars. I picked the empty cup and got posted north for my trouble.” Tjety thrust his good hand vaguely southward. “I’m here on the fuckin’ sufferance of Pharaoh and of my superiors at Karam Oasis.” Uttering the name of the Rangers’ headquarters left a foul taste in his mouth. Bastards.
The shorter and swarthier of the two men, Khepri, snorted but kept his eyes forward on the road, clutching the carbine he’d appropriated from one
of the dead bandits. “Sounds like you maybe had an indiscretion or two and ended up getting posted way out here more outta spite.”
Tjety shot him a glare but didn’t deny the statement. He simply offered a Hesso swear he must have picked up from Meret. “Anyways. As the only fuckin’ Ranger on the northern fuckin’ frontier, it’s up to me to find the truth about what’s happening and then mete out justice to whoever’s responsible.” He pumped his fist toward the north. “Somewhere up ahead is that person. I can feel it.”
And he could, even though his hekau was still below full strength, depleted from the actions over the last couple days. The bit of sleep he had managed to catch last night plus the little bit of food he’d eaten before they broke camp had helped, though. He also had several waterskins draped on Heker’s back, and he wasn’t shy about drinking them dry. Water might not taste as good as beer, but there was no denying the healing benefits of drinking it frequently.
He settled his gear and newly-acquired rifle on the satchels in front of and behind him, and moved Heker forward into a trot. The three villagers likewise put heel to their horses to keep pace.
Tjety led them north, scanning either side of the road as they rode. After a solid hour of steady riding, he found what he’d been looking for, or at least something damned close. He slid off Heker’s back and secured the horse’s reins to a stout tree, then pulled the axe he’d appropriated from the dead bandits out of his collection of supplies. The villagers pulled up rein around him. Tjety glanced at Mut and handed the axe to him.
Tjety gestured to the trees along both sides of the road. “This is the densest area of trees I’ve seen up to now, and if we can chop a few of them down, we should be able to block this road. The undergrowth is too dense here to allow a horse and rider passage.”
Mut nodded and took the axe, and without hesitation scanned the treeline along the road and picked a likely candidate. He swung the axe and the sharp blade bit into the trunk. Khepri glanced at Tjety and shrugged, then produced a second hand axe and joined his companion.
Yufa stayed on her horse and glanced toward the river. “What about the shore? If riders can find a way through the trees, they could get past the blockade by following the river.”
Tjety walked toward the river through a break in the trees. “That’s why I was thinking we could also drop a few trees along the coastline. Block up both the road and the coastline, maybe force the riders to take the river ford way up north.”
Yufa shook her head. “I didn’t know there was another ford other than the one near our village.”
Tjety waved at her to follow, the grunts of the two men and their axes hitting trees sounding in the background. “One of the maps Pharaoh’s scouts had prepared before I left the Asyut garrison showed a northern ford. It’s too far for us to use, but if we can choke up these two areas, we can force our enemy to use it.”
He swung his axe one-handed through some of the undergrowth to clear a path to the shoreline, then jogged north along the shore until he found a spot where the river ran nearly up against the trees. He checked the shore and the river, and was encouraged to see a nice bonus—here the flow of the river had worn down the shore line enough so that there was a relatively steep drop from the coast into the river. He glanced at Yufa. “This is perfect. They’ll have a hard time getting around this unless they want to fuckin’ swim.”
He hefted the axe in his good hand and awkwardly started cutting into the trees abutting the river. After a moment, Yufa fell in next to him and hacked away at the smaller branches with a long knife. Tjety focused on the medium-sized trees, striking a balance between knowing they didn’t have time to cut down the big ones and that the little trees wouldn’t serve as enough of an obstacle.
After laying in some hard work, he had what he wanted, or at least close enough to get the job done. Four medium-width trees fallen, largely blocking the space between the dense tree line and the river. If anyone were to chase after them and want to use the shore as passage, they’d get stopped here and would have to either go north to the ford, which would take hours, or clear the obstruction, which would also take time. Either way, he hoped that it’d be enough to buy Ruia and the other villagers the time they needed to get to the gods-damned fort.
He drained a waterskin and then nodded toward Yufa. “Now back to the road.” He leaned over and refilled his waterskin in the Iteru, then hurried back to the road. Heker and Yufa’s horse had wandered over to the far side of the road, and were working their way through some of the lush grass growing there. Tjety clucked at his horse but didn’t pull him away from the feast.
Mut and Khepri had managed to fell a handful of large trees, and were taking a break, sweating hard and passing a waterskin back and forth. Tjety led Yufa up to them and nodded his appreciation. “Damn fine work, you two, but it’s not nearly enough. We need to keep at it.” He glanced up at the sun. “It’s past noon. If I remember the maps right, anyone coming from the old quarry should be getting close if they’re riding with a purpose.”
The two men traded a look and then got back to swinging their axes. Tjety traded a look with Yufa and then joined in. It was hard going. Not only was his axe blade now duller than he would have liked, with poor bite into the trees, but it was a struggle swinging an axe with one good arm and an infection burning inside his body.
Felling the trees near the river with Yufa had worn him down, but now he was edging toward exhausted. He took more breaks to catch his breath than he would have liked, and after helping to drop a third medium-sized tree into the road, he had to call it enough and handed his axe over to Yufa.
He drained another waterskin and then directed the three villagers to use their horses to drag and stack the fallen trees into the road. It wasn’t as dense a blockade as he would have liked, but it would have to do. Just looking at it made him think he’d need precious time to clear it.
Tjety said, “All right. That’s enough. It’ll have to do. Refill your waterskins and then let’s ride like demons.”
The three villagers stowed their axes and then hurried to the river. As they went, Tjety mounted Heker and then kept an eye on the horses, while also keeping an eye on the northern road beyond their roadblock. He paused and strained his senses. He’d been sure he had heard something in the distance, coming down the road. Nothing distinct struck him other than a vague hiccup in his hekau. He glanced at the blockade. It had to be good enough.
The wound in his arm was now a constant ache, and he flexed it briefly then winced in fresh pain. Shit. His arm wasn’t getting any better and now he was starting to really feel the drain of the last couple of days. What he’d give for a few long quiet nights in a real bed next to a real fire.
He indulged in a minute or two of self-pity, then set his mouth and his will. He was not about to roll over and die in this road. He wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction, not even the gods.
He glanced up into the sky to gauge the time, and saw a dozen or more black vultures circling high over head. They had to be checking the ground to see if there were any leavings to enjoy. Maybe they’d find something worthwhile farther down the river, perhaps a bandit’s body that had washed up onto the shore or got hung up in a tangle of reeds.
Staring at the birds sparked an idea, though it was risky given his dwindling hekau reserves. He’d been given instruction on how to project his ba into the body and mind of a simple animal, and while he wasn’t very good at it, mostly because he’d never given himself the time to practice, he knew the basics.
He raised his voice. “Come on, let’s get moving!” In short order, the three villagers returned with dripping waterskins, and mounted their respective horses. He faced the three of them. “Yufa, Mut. Ride on. Ride as hard as you can and catch up with the wagon and the rest of your people.”
All three of them frowned. Yufa was the first to speak up. “What are you and Khepri going to do?”
Tjety pointed out the vultures flying high overhead. “I
have an idea, probably a damned stupid one, but I’m gonna need Khepri’s help if I’m going to do it. But I don’t need to keep you two in danger any more than necessary. Go on, ride.” He gestured toward the road. “But ride with my thanks. I couldn’t have done this work without your help.”
They traded looks with each other and with Khepri, then turned to the south. Mut glanced at Tjety and nodded. “Don’t be too far behind. We could use you if we do get attacked.”
“We’ll ride on as soon as we can.”
Mut and Yufa heeled their horses and tore off down the road. Tjety glanced at Khepri. “Follow me.”
Tjety walked Heker down the road and tied the reins off to a nearby tree. “Just keep an eye out for any bandits or creatures. It’s going to look like I fall asleep, but I’m actually trying to do some scouting, using my Ranger training with my hekau.”
Khepri shrugged. “I don’t know such things.” He cradled his carbine. “But I can keep watch just fine. Do what you need to do, Ranger.”
Tjety nodded his thanks and then settled onto Heker’s back. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest, cradling his wounded arm. He focused on his ba, and how it was connected to his body by a thin cord his trainer had called the heart-string, and imagined his ba flying out of his body yet still attached to that glowing silver thread.
Tjety felt the drain on his hekau. It was hard work to pull his ba out of his body. There was a strong sense of resistance all along the line, as if his body wanted that soul right where it belonged before it was time to give it up. He gritted his teeth and focused, and pushed harder against that insubstantial resistance. He felt something tear within his hekau and winced at the sensation. But, his ba pulled away from his body, the gossamer-like trail of his heart-string floating along behind it, like when he used to play out the thin string on one of his little brother’s wind-toys.
He focused the greater portion of his consciousness and imagined his ba in the form of a bird, trusting in Khepri to keep watch over his body. He’d heard the stories of ba-travelers having their bodies damaged while they were in ba-form, and being permanently severed from their bodies and left to float around aimlessly forever, or those who had been unceremoniously snapped back to their bodies due to some sudden trauma they hadn’t anticipated.