Rangers at Roadsend

by Jane Fletcher

  Chip leaped for the stairs. Simultaneous with Katryn’s dive was the thud of a projectile striking wood. In a calm, logical corner of her mind, Chip registered the fact that the arrow was, therefore, not lodged in Katryn. Chip’s foot hit the first stair at the same moment that the sound of running footsteps reverberated through the mill.

  Meanwhile, Katryn was struggling to avoid falling down the stairs. She had one leg pulled in through the hatch, hunting for footing. Her elbows were fighting for purchase on the edge of the hatchway.

  Chip’s second foot hit the stairs. Katryn was twisting, starting to rise, when another figure appeared above her, dressed in a Ranger’s uniform, drawn sword in hand.

  “Katryn, look out!” Chip shouted.

  Katryn abandoned her battle with the hatchway. She tumbled through the opening, dropping away from the downward-swinging arc of the sword. Halfway down the stairs, she collided with Chip. Katryn ended up sprawled on the earthen floor. Chip fared a little better, but even before she regained her balance, they heard the crash of the trap door slamming shut and the unmistakable sound of a bolt being driven home. Then there was silence.

  Katryn scrambled to her feet. They both stared at the closed hatchway and then at the seated figure. Unbelievably, she had not stirred. Chip crossed the floor and reached out to shake the woman’s shoulder. At her touch, the figure slumped sideways. Chip’s initial horrified thought that the woman was dead lasted no more than a second: The rags dropped away to reveal a sack stuffed with straw.

  “What game are they playing?” Katryn asked, bewildered.

  “I don’t know, but we’re playing it by my rules once we get out.” Chip’s voice was grim. She returned to the stairs, climbing high enough so that she could push experimentally against the hinged flap. It showed no sign of moving, but the wood was old and cracked. “I think we can get through, but it will mean using my sword like an axe.”

  “Use mine. I’ve got less use for it.”

  Chip nodded while she continued to examine the timber, deciding on the best point of attack.

  “Chip, move!” Katryn screamed.

  Chip flung herself off the stairs and hit the ground rolling. An arrow thudded into the wooden frame at the spot where she had been crouched. Chip’s momentum took her back up to her knees. Her eyes darted around the cellar. There was nowhere to hide. The open treads of the stairs offered no protection. There was only one option.

  Katryn was a step ahead of her. By the time Chip reached the table, Katryn had grabbed the edge and thrown it on its side. They jerked it around so that it faced the window, its legs touching the opposing wall. Chip spared a look at the candle. Darkness would make them less of a target, but there was no time. Already, she could hear the soft creak of the bow being drawn again. Chip dived over the top of the table. Katryn was beside her an instant later as a second arrow struck the wall above their heads and rebounded back onto the floor. Small flakes of stone rained down on them.

  The space was cramped. It took a bit of squirming before they were both half lying side by side, keeping as low as possible, shoulders against the wall and knees drawn up against the underside of the table.

  For a long time, everything was very quiet. Then there was the sound of footsteps on the floorboards directly overhead.

  Chip peered around cautiously the edge of the table. She caught the glint of candlelight on an arrow poking through the window and pulled her head back. More than one attacker was involved in the ambush.

  The footsteps stopped by the trap door, and a voice rang out. “Sergeant Coppelli?” There was a pause. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, but you’ve given me no choice.”

  Chip and Katryn stared at each other in amazement, both at the words and at recognizing Lieutenant Bergstrom’s voice.

  “Are you hoping for me to say I accept your apology?” Chip shouted back at last.

  “No, of course not.” Bergstrom had missed the irony. “I just wanted to ask how you worked out that it was my sister who tipped off the gang.” When Chip said nothing, Bergstrom continued, “I’ve spent years in fear, thinking it would come out. I was just starting to relax when you came around, threatening me. I was right, wasn’t I? You were hoping to rattle me into admitting something. And I heard what you said in the courtyard afterward. How did you know?”

  Chip covered her face with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. What she had missed—or blundered into? Her hands dropped. A bluff might be the best way of getting answers. “We got lucky with some old reports. The only thing we weren’t sure of was the extent of your sister’s involvement with the Butcher.”

  “Oh, yes. Fran, my shithead little sister,” Bergstrom said bitterly. “Please, you’ve got to believe me. If I’d known she was going to pass the warning on, I’d never have told her. I’d have let her die with the other scum like she deserved.”

  “Hey!” The anger in the shout from the window allowed Chip to make a fair guess at the identity of the archer.

  Bergstrom ignored the complaint and went on. “I guess it was obvious Mom would prefer Fran, seeing how she’s her birth daughter, especially since my birth mother walked out, but—” She broke off, sudden pain tearing her voice. “I’d have done anything to please Mom, but it was always Fran, Fran, Fran. Like the sun shone out of her ass...spoiled brat. When I was in the Militia, I knew Fran was mixing with the wrong people, like it was a game. I tried to shield her for Mom’s sake, though it stuck in my gullet. I joined the Rangers partly to get away. But first posting and I was back in Roadsend again. Then we had the briefing about the raid on the Butcher’s hideout. If Fran had been killed, it would have broken Mom’s heart. But I swear I never thought the silly bitch would pass the warning on.”

  “Oh, come on. They were my friends.” Bergstrom’s sister at the window was goaded into speaking up. “And like you, I never thought they’d try ambushing the squadron. I thought they’d just run and hide. Once I knew what the Butcher was planning, I was out of there. She thought if she gave the Rangers a bloody nose, they’d leave her alone. I knew Fort Krowe would hunt her to the ends of the earth. That’s why I went straight into town and made myself very conspicuous the whole time the ambush was happening.”

  “And left me and the rest of the squadron to walk into it.”

  It was obviously an old and very bitter argument. Chip pinched the bridge of her nose in despair. But at least she could almost tie up the whole story. She raised her voice. “So what about Ellis?”

  “Ellis?” Bergstrom spat out the name. “What do you want to know? She saw me panic when the fighting started, and I realized it was my fault. I was blabbering away. Ellis was always holding it over me, and she was getting worse after Fitz’s death and Dolokov told her she wouldn’t be allowed to re-enlist. I guess she felt she had nothing to lose.” The sound of footsteps from above announced that Bergstrom was moving again. “I wasn’t sorry about her death, but I’ll be sorry about yours. I never, ever meant for any decent Rangers to die.”

  The footsteps receded. Chip followed their progress until they left the mill, but she did not dare assume that the archer at the window had also gone. From Bergstrom’s final words, it was clear that the renegade lieutenant was determined to kill them both.

  Chip’s gaze moved on to the candle, considering her chances of extinguishing it. But even with the candle out, there would be little to gain. If they started hacking at the trap door, Bergstrom’s sister would not need light to know where to send the arrow.

  Katryn’s bow lay on the ground near the foot of the stairs. Again, getting it was not worth the risk involved. There was not room behind the table for Katryn to draw the bow without making a target of herself.

  Chip’s examination of the room ended with Katryn. For the first time, she noticed the blood soaking the shoulder of Katryn’s jacket. “You’re hurt!”

  Katryn glanced down as though she had been unaware of her injury. “Just a flesh wound. The arrow nicked my arm.”

&
nbsp; “Let me see.”

  “It’s not a priority.”

  “We might as well do something while we wait for Bergstrom to set fire to the mill.”

  “You think that’s what she’s going to do?”

  “It’s what I’d do in her place.”

  Katryn looked at the locked trap door. “We aren’t in a very good position, are we?”

  Chip gave a humorless laugh. “Not really. But we might get lucky, and our chances will be better with your arm bandaged.”

  Katryn nodded and slipped her shoulder out of her jacket. The arrow had sliced a gash. Blood was still oozing, but the injury was not serious. Chip took the field dressing from the pouch on her belt to bind the wound.

  Katryn leaned her head back against the wall. “I don’t suppose you have any of the healer-gift?” She spoke with her eyes closed.

  “The barest residual trace. We were all tested. Prudence is the best in my family, and she can’t do much more than cure a headache. How about you?”

  “The same. My sister had a bit more than me. I wouldn’t have trusted her with a headache, though.”

  Chip finished tying the knot and helped Katryn back into her jacket. She looked up. Katryn’s face was in profile in the candlelight. Chip opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. Then she set her jaw. In the circumstances, there was no point holding back. She hoped that Katryn would take it as a compliment, rather than an unwelcome additional trial. “Your sister...you know…if your ex-partner left you for her, your sister must be really something.”

  “She’s something, all right.”

  “I mean…what I meant is…I like you a lot...and I...just wanted you to know that.” Chip’s voice failed her, but she had probably said enough. She braced herself for a rebuff.

  “I know.” Katryn slowly rolled her head around to meet Chip’s eyes. Astonishingly, she was smiling sadly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Very deliberately, Katryn reached out to interlace her fingers with Chip’s. She raised their joined hands to her lips and kissed each of Chip’s knuckles in turn.

  “Oh, shit,” Chip gasped.

  Katryn looked up, a slightly quizzical expression on her face.

  Chip managed a sickly grin. “I’m sorry. It’s what Kim is always telling me. My line in sweet-talking needs polishing.”

  Katryn’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. She pressed the back of Chip’s hand to her cheek. Chip watched her in amazement, trying to think of something else to say. “Er...my timing could stand some improvement as well. This is one of those rare occasions where lifelong commitment might not count for as much as a one-night stand.”

  “You think we have no chance?”

  “We’re Rangers, and we’re still breathing. Of course we stand a chance.”

  Katryn moved their joined hands to her lap. She stared at their intertwined fingers pensively. “Bergstrom’s taking her time with the fire.”

  “Maybe she has other plans.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. We need to think—see if we can outmaneuver her. It’s our only hope.” Chip lifted her eyes to the floorboards above them. Her heart was pounding. The feel of Katryn’s hand made rational thought almost impossible.

  “Well, if not, it’s been nice knowing you. Thanks for believing me.”

  The depth in Katryn’s voice pulled Chip’s gaze back down. Their eyes met and locked. Then Katryn leaned forward and kissed her, slowly and very softly. It was not the situation for passion; yet the tenderness in Katryn’s kiss flooded through Chip. Their mouths molded together, wordlessly expressing both promises and regrets. At last, Katryn shifted back to her original position. All the time she kept their hands clasped.

  Chip stared at Katryn, her mind reeling. Of all the responses she had anticipated, this had been the very last on the list. She did not know whether to cry with despair or joy. The chances of either of them seeing sunrise the next day did not look good, but Katryn had admitted feeling some affection for her. And at least if she was going to die, it would be nice to go out holding Katryn’s hand.

  *

  It was well past midnight. The candle had long since burned out, but the full orb of Hardie was now low enough in the sky to shine squarely through the barred window of the cellar. The bands of brilliant moonlight lay across the earthen floor. There was no sound except for two sets of soft, even breathing, echoing off the stone walls. Then came the faint scratching of a bolt being eased back and the sigh of seeping air as the trap door was lifted carefully.

  Bergstrom peered down into the cellar. From the hatchway, she had a clear view of the two huddled figures behind the table, wrapped in gray cloaks, with wide-brimmed Rangers’ hats pulled down over their eyes. The moonlight was bright enough to catch a hint of the green in the jackets underneath. Neither figure moved, nor did the gentle breathing pause. Bergstrom beckoned her sister, Francesca, over. It was a small sop to her conscience that she would not be the one to end the lives of her blameless fellow Rangers.

  Francesca looked at her targets and nocked an arrow. She drew back, bracing her hand under her chin and touching lips and nose to the string. At such close range, taking aim required only a moment.

  She loosed the shot. The arrow struck fully into the breast of the figure farther away. It keeled over from the impact. The other shape in gray shifted slightly but showed no sign of waking. A few seconds later, Francesca’s second arrow thudded into the remaining figure. A shudder ran though it; then it slumped down slightly farther into the shadow behind the table. The breathing stopped.

  Bergstrom realized that her hands were moist and shaking, but it was over. She brushed her palms dry on her thighs and stepped onto the stairs, her eyes fixed on the motionless shapes below. Francesca followed her down. The pair crossed the cellar to the upturned table and looked down. It took a few heartbeats for them to identify the figures as two sacks of straw wrapped in gray cloaks. Before either could react, there was the sound of movement behind them.

  Then Chip’s voice rang out. “You know, our falling for the stuffed-bag trick was bad enough, but you can’t even claim you’d had no warning.”

  Bergstrom and her sister spun around to see Katryn and Chip standing in the shadows under the stairs. Chip held her knife and sword. Katryn had an arrow nocked and her bow three-quarters drawn. Chip went on, “But I’m glad you put in an appearance. It’s a bit cold, standing here without our cloaks and jackets.”

  “But…I heard…they were breathing,” Francesca blurted out.

  “We heard echoes and told ourselves they were coming from where we expected,” Bergstrom said harshly, cutting off her sister’s mumbling.

  Chip inclined her head to agree with Bergstrom’s statement. “So are you going to surrender nicely?”

  It was a reasonable suggestion. Francesca did not even have an arrow at hand, and Bergstrom’s sword was still sheathed. Katryn could drop one of them before they had a chance to move, leaving the other to fight two against one. Francesca looked stunned, but she reached the inevitable conclusion and tossed her useless bow aside. However, Bergstrom backed away to the far corner of the cellar.

  “You know I can’t do that. And there’s no point. I’m not going to be dragged through a court-martial just to provide entertainment when I’m strung up by the neck. I…” Her composure started to unravel. “I never meant any of this to happen. I wanted to be a good Ranger. I’ve really tried over the years to make amends. I’d have a perfect record if it weren’t for her.” Bergstrom’s hand jerked in her sister’s direction. “Mom’s little darling. I did it all for her, and she never once said thank you. And Mom…she didn’t…” Bergstrom’s voice choked away. In a fluid movement, she whipped her sword out of its scabbard. “Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

  The others in the cellar realized a second too late what Bergstrom intended. Before anyone could move, Bergstrom had flipped the sword around. One hand grasped the hilt; the other clutched the tip and pre
ssed it against her heart. She pitched forward, dropping like a felled tree. Insanely, the thought to shoot through Chip’s head was She’s going to cut her fingers. Then Bergstrom crashed into the ground, the force of the impact driving the point of the sword clear through her body. The bloody blade erupted from her back. Her body twitched once convulsively and was still.

  “Val!” Francesca screamed her name. Then the echoes died away, and there was silence in the cellar.

  Chapter Twenty-One—Crossroads

  “Did you get an answer as to why Lieutenant Bergstrom didn’t set fire to the mill?” The Ranger asking the question had the three stars of a divisional commander on her shoulder badge.

  Sanchez nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It came out when I was questioning her sister. It was part of Lieutenant Bergstrom’s plan to prevent herself from becoming a suspect.” The Militiawoman’s eyes flicked briefly in Katryn’s direction. “Private Nagata’s name had been linked to the murder of her previous sergeant, and Lieutenant Bergstrom knew she was a skilled archer. She also knew that Sergeant Coppelli was conducting an unofficial investigation into the murder. For Lieutenant Bergstrom’s plan to work, it was necessary to shoot Sergeant Coppelli and to have Private Nagata disappear without trace. Bergstrom calculated that if Sergeant Coppelli were found dead from arrow wounds, and if Private Nagata vanished, it would be assumed that Sergeant Coppelli had obtained proof of her guilt and murdered her accuser before fleeing. The investigation would take the form of a search for Private Nagata—which would doubtless fail, as we’d be looking for a fugitive rather than a corpse.”

  The divisional commander nodded and turned to confer quietly with the officer sitting beside her. During the short lull in questioning, Chip let her eyes run around the room. The meeting hall in the divisional headquarters at Eastford was crowded. She, Katryn and Sanchez were squeezed onto a bench. Apart from them, Captain LeCoup, Lieutenant Ritche and as many members of divisional staff as could wrangle their way in were also present. Rumors had been rattling around town ever since the three had arrived from Roadsend the previous evening. This was the first of the official inquiry sessions.