The Rogue Retrieval

by Dan Koboldt

  The sergeant nodded. “I can understand that,” he said. He signaled his men, who raised their lances, but still kept them neatly encircled. “You don’t have the look of smugglers, but we’ve been having problems in this area. Will you consent to a search?”

  Logan tensed. A lot of the gear might pass inspection, thanks to the company techs, but the MP5s would almost certainly raise questions. And they definitely couldn’t afford to have them confiscated. Yet he was at a loss at how to stop them.

  But Chaudri wasn’t.

  “I’m sure you and your men have more important things to do,” Chaudri said. “Perhaps it would be more expedient to provide you a list of our belongings. My secretary keeps one at hand.” She gestured vaguely at Kiara.

  The lieutenant’s eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip. Logan did, too, but mostly so he wouldn’t laugh.

  Hell—­she said to let Chaudri roll with it.

  Kiara removed the parchment from the satchel behind her saddle and handed it to the staff sergeant. The list itself was innocuous; the company linguists prepared a number of such documents for encounters like these. The officer squinted at it. His eyes didn’t move across the words, though—­he probably couldn’t read. It made sense: with the polyglossia, speech made for far easier communication.

  And it would be embarrassing for a leader to admit such a deficiency, even if it was fairly common in Alissia.

  “I don’t see anything of concern,” the staff sergeant said.

  How could he?

  “We’d just as soon be on our way, then,” Chaudri said. “I’d like to cover some ground before sunset.”

  “Very well,” the staff sergeant said. He put his helmet back on and signaled to his men. They spurred their mounts and began moving, forming up into two columns once more.

  Logan’s horse shied at the sound and movement, spinning him half around.

  Thorisson saw his chance and took it.

  He kicked hard at the side of his horse. The already-­frightened animal leaped forward through the widening gap in the line of patrol horses. Logan put a hand to the hilt of his crossbow, but hesitated. He didn’t have a clear shot, and one of the patrolmen was likely to skewer him if he raised a weapon.

  Mendez managed to nudge his horse clear and went after him. Kiara and Chaudri broke away as well.

  “What’s happening?” the staff sergeant demanded.

  “His horse must have spooked,” Logan said.

  “His hands were bound. Were you holding him captive?”

  Logan sawed the reins around so that his mount spun in a half circle. A gap appeared in the cavalry line riding past. “Beg your pardon, Staff Sergeant.” He kicked hard and his mount shot forward.

  I’ll let Chaudri explain that one.

  Moric had slowed them to a walk, and now signaled a halt. He dismounted. Quinn did the same, and ran up just as the magician cast his scrying window. He could barely see them beyond the line of surrounding horsemen.

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  “Just over the next ridge,” Moric said.

  “Shouldn’t we do something?”

  “Hush, child!” Sella said. “Intervening now would only get them killed.”

  He watched as Chaudri did most of the talking; she gestured at Kiara, who handed over some kind of parchment.

  “Good, good,” Moric said. “Give them a good story, back it up with some papers.”

  Quinn heard Chaudri doing just that. Gods, but it was good to see her again. She certainly looked convincing. Nothing but confidence on her face. The redheaded officer seemed to be buying it, too.

  “Look there,” Leward said. “The prisoner is up to something.”

  Quinn realized he was talking about Thorisson. Oh, no.

  It looked like the patrol was moving on, but then Thorisson ruined it. He broke away from the group and rode off. Chaos ensued; Kiara and others rode hard after him. The red-­haired Felaran officer took command of his patrol again and sent them off in pursuit. They were all riding west, toward the mountains.

  “Now we can intervene,” Moric said. He turned to the two magicians. “Keep it subtle, please. Better not to reveal our involvement.”

  “Better not to have been involved in the first place,” Sella said. She strode off in the direction of the pounding hooves. Leward followed at her heels. Quinn lost sight of them almost immediately; the concealment spell seemed to be working.

  “What should I do?” he asked.

  “Watch, and stay quiet,” Moric said. “I need to concentrate.”

  Logan ducked under another tree branch, trying to keep Thorisson in view. He swerved left around a dead pine; the Landorian soldiers riding hard behind him didn’t see it in time. They crashed heavily into the pine and rolled. Another close call. By rights he should have been captured a dozen times over. Another rider turned up on his six almost immediately. There was no end to the expert horsemen, and he was on their turf.

  At least the trees are close enough that they can’t use their lances.

  They had been so close to getting away from the patrol and into Felara. Damn Thorisson for screwing it up. If Logan got the chance to shoot him, he would.

  And then he’d probably do it again, just for the hell of it.

  Unfortunately, the man seemed to know it. All of that awkward riding and tugging the reins had been for show. He rode perfectly well now that his life depended on it, even with his wrists bound. Was that by chance, or had whoever sent him already known what to expect through the gateway? If he got away, they might never know.

  Kiara was somewhere to his left, and Chaudri with her. They were trying more to elude the Landorian patrol than anything. I guess they didn’t even try to talk their way out of it.

  He felt a little bad about just taking off, but he’d be little use to them if he were captured by the Landorians. And Thorisson was now the key to this mission, so letting him escape wasn’t an option. Even if it meant leaving Chaudri and the lieutenant in Landorian hands.

  Still, that thought tore him up inside.

  He cleared his head of regret—­time for that later. With a quick glance over his shoulder to see where his pursuers were, he focused his attention ahead of him once more.

  “Mendez, where are you?” he asked.

  “On your three. But I’ve got a ­couple of these King Arthur types on my tail.”

  A crashing noise came from somewhere to Logan’s right. A horse screamed.

  Hope that wasn’t him. “Mendez!”

  “Make that one on my tail,” he answered.

  Thorisson cut right; he’d found a trail heading downhill.

  “Bearing right!” Logan said. His mount stumbled over a hidden log, but kept its footing. Another stroke of luck. He pounded on down the trail. There was a creek ahead, swollen nearly to the banks with groundwater from the recent storms. Thorisson plunged into it. The water nearly reached the stirrups. He gained the far bank just as Logan’s mare hit the water. Thorisson leaned low against his horse’s neck; Logan could have shot the packhorse, but couldn’t bring himself to kill it just to recapture the prisoner. He had other problems, too. Muddy water swirled over his boots, halfway up his mount’s back. It was rising.

  “Watch the creek,” Logan told the others. Almost instantly, the water picked up speed, gurgling and swirling around him. That doesn’t seem right. His horse gained the far side and clambered up. He tugged back on the reins to watch the others cross.

  “Keep moving, ­people,” he said. “The water’s rising.”

  “Don’t wait for us,” Kiara said.

  He pretended not to hear. I abandoned them with the Landorians. I’m not leaving them again.

  Mendez splashed in next. The women were right behind him, but the water was twice as deep now. Twice as fast, too. Kiara’s mount balked at t
he edge and nearly threw her. Chaudri’s mare crashed into hers. Both stumbled down into the churning waters.

  Shit. Logan jumped out of the saddle and waded in, keeping hold of his reins. Mendez tried to turn back to help, and then his mount was slipping.

  “Go, go!” Logan shouted. He skirted them and made a grab for Kiara’s bridle. Never had cold, wet leather felt so good. “Easy, girl. Easy.” He braced himself with his own reins and started backing out. The lieutenant had kept her saddle, and managed to grab hold of Chaudri’s mount. Logan was almost to the bank, but the water surged around him. He slipped and would have gone down, but an arm slipped under his shoulder and held him up.

  “Gotcha!” Mendez said.

  Shouts came from the woods behind; the Landorian patrol had spotted them. There came a rumbling sound from somewhere upstream, too, and it sounded ominous. A wall of churning, muddy water swept around the bend upstream.

  “Move!” Mendez shouted. He tugged at the bridle of Chaudri’s mare and half dragged them up the bank.

  Logan did the same with Kiara’s, but the bank was slick with mud. He couldn’t get purchase. Then the muddy wave was on them. It swept over the back of the mare, nearly took the lieutenant out of her saddle. She shouted and spurred her mount, hard. Somehow the mare found a grip and surged out, dragging Logan with them.

  He dropped the bridle and threw himself back on his own horse. They clattered away as the water surged up over the banks. Four Landorian horsemen appeared on the far side and had to wheel their horses to the side to avoid riding in. That was some good horsemanship. Timber and detritus rushed past in the heavy current. There was no crossing now, and the Landorians knew it. That was one problem solved.

  “Time to get our prisoner back,” Logan said. “Mendez, with me.”

  They thundered over the ridge . . . only to find Thorisson right on the other side. He’d ridden right into the drooping branches of a large tree and gotten stuck. The more he struggled, the more the branches clung to him and the packhorse. He was tangled up and cursing mightily. The sight of it made Logan laugh. Thorisson continued to thrash until Logan and Mendez were nearly on top of him. He heard them approach, but couldn’t quite turn around for a look.

  “Hello again,” Logan said.

  Thorisson’s whole body seemed to slump; though the branches held him mostly upright. The packhorse whinnied in dismay.

  “Nice of him to wait for us,” Mendez said.

  “Wasn’t it?”

  Kiara and Chaudri rode up next; their horses were still soaked from the creek crossing.

  “Wow, a sticky willow!” Chaudri said. “Always wanted to see one of these. From a safe distance, obviously.”

  It resembled a weeping willow, except that the leaves and whip-­like branches were a dusty brown color. They were coated with tiny hooks, almost like Velcro. And they latched on to anything—­clothing, leather, skin, hair. The limbs were deceptively strong, so even though it was always tempting to try to jerk free, doing so only caused more branches to come down on top of you.

  As Thorisson had discovered.

  “What do you think, Lieutenant?” Logan asked. “Can we leave him?”

  “He did cause me to ruin my favorite riding boots,” Kiara said. She turned her horse. “Let’s go.”

  Logan and Mendez went to follow. They hadn’t gone twenty yards before Thorisson started shouting.

  “Don’t leave me here!” he cried.

  Kiara sighed and reined in. “I suppose I want the packhorse back, at least. We might as well get him out, too.”

  “How the hell do we do that?” Mendez muttered.

  “We’ll have to cut the branches,” Chaudri said. “As high up as we can reach.”

  The rescue took the better part of an hour. Logan and Mendez worked methodically under Chaudri’s direction, cutting branches and handing them back to the others. Kiara and Chaudri stacked them well away from the tree and the other horses. Eventually they extracted both the horse and rider. Mendez held a crossbow at him while the others removed every twig and leaf that still clung to him or the packhorse. It was tiresome work, but they had to be certain no bits of sticky willow tagged along. Otherwise, the gateway’s biological scanners would lock them in Alissia until they were clean. Granted, the company had brought a ­couple of leaves through for study.

  They’d already spawned a new generation of industrial adhesives, the patent revenues for which had underwritten the last few missions in Alissia.

  Kiara had them under way soon after, just in case the Landorian patrol had found a way around. Thorisson’s escape attempt had brought them right to the base of the mountains. They made camp after a few hours. Tomorrow they’d try to cross via the smuggler’s pass.

  For a considerable bribe, Landorian smugglers would guide you through narrow mountain passes into Felara. Logan had dealt with them before, but never with a group this large, or a prisoner in tow.

  He had told the lieutenant that it would be a piece of cake.

  Maybe it actually will be.

  “Honor among thieves is a romantic notion, one that criminals here have yet to stumble across.”

  —­R. HOLT, “MY TIME WITH TIONI CUTPURSES”

  CHAPTER 23

  THE SMUGGLER CODE

  By sunset, Moric and the other two magicians were exhausted. Keeping Kiara’s team on their horses while they fled, leading them to the cutoff point, and flooding the creek had taken a lot out of them. Moric had retrieved their Tioni mules; that was about all he could manage. Leward had been dozing off while they waited. Sella put her customary wards around their campsite, but even she looked a bit drowsy.

  All three would need to sleep soon, and probably for a good day or two. Even so, they monitored the progress of Kiara’s group while they rode toward the mountains.

  Moric made an unpleasant sound.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

  “I thought perhaps they’d take one of the main passes, at which point we’d have some assurance of their safety.”

  “Maybe they’re lost,” Quinn said, though he knew that they weren’t. The creek crossing seemed to have put the comm units on a bender, but from the bits and pieces he’d picked up, Kiara had a destination in mind. He couldn’t share that with Moric, of course.

  “They’re probably aiming for a smuggler’s route through the mountains,” Moric said. “It’s a quieter way to slip into Felara. Lower profile, which some find appealing.”

  Low profile. That had to be Logan’s idea.

  “How far is it from here to the smuggler’s pass?” he asked.

  “A few hours’ ride, no more, if memory serves,” Moric said. He yawned and reclined on the grass.

  He could probably catch them. Maybe in time to warn them about the danger the smugglers had to offer. Once Kiara got through the gateway, who knew what kind of draconian measures she’d put in place? With Holt in a position of power, she might think it safer to seal the gateway from the other side. No telling how long he could be stuck here. Or what Thorisson might say about him.

  Then again, if he went back with them, they might never let him return. And then I’ll never know if I could have learned the magic here.

  “How long will you need to sleep?” he asked.

  “At least a full day,” Moric said. “I hate to let the Prime down, but we’ve done all that we can for his friends.”

  Holt had hired the Enclave to make sure they ended up as far away from Valteron as possible. They were no friends of his. But they’d become something like that for Quinn.

  “Let me fulfill the contract,” he said.

  Sella perked up. “Absolutely not. You’re only here to observe. Nothing more.”

  Damn. He’d thought her asleep already.

  “Look, we all know I’m not an ordinary student,” Quinn said. “And Moric’s in e
nough trouble with the council. How is a botched job going to look to them?”

  “Not well,” Moric admitted. “But I’m not sure what you think you can do to help them.”

  “I can make sure they reach Felara.”

  “What if there’s a problem?” Moric asked.

  “I’m a grown man, and I can be resourceful.”

  Sella shook her head. “This is too dangerous for him.”

  “And this coming from someone who recently threw me off a waterfall,” Quinn said.

  “There were safeguards for that,” Sella countered. “And I didn’t throw you. You fell on your own, probably because you were distracted by that—­”

  “All right, all right, I fell,” Quinn said quickly. No need to bring up that subject. “But it didn’t work. Nothing has worked. Maybe it takes more to bring the ability out in me.”

  “Maybe you’re not trying hard enough,” she said.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve tried to do, Sella,” he said. He smiled at her. An earnest smile this time. “But I need more. I think we both know that.”

  She frowned, as if mulling this over. Leward had closed his eyes and now began to snore.

  “Overextended himself again, I’ll wager,” Moric said. “That leaves just the two of us to decide, and I vote against it. You’re too valuable to risk on a contract job. The Prime will understand.”

  “Well I vote for it,” Quinn said.

  “You don’t get a vote,” Moric said.

  “Why not? I’m part of this mission, too.”

  He sighed. “Fine. One for, one against.”

  Sella looked at Quinn for a long time, her face unreadable. “I’m in favor,” she said at last.

  “Sella!” Moric said.

  “The boy wants it bad enough, I’ll grant him that. Never thought he’d stick it out in my class in the first place. Let him try playing the hero.” She closed her eyes again, and muttered to herself. “If the black hearts of smugglers can’t bring a spark out of him, nothing will.”