Cyril sighed, shaking his head.
“Nothing is ever easy,” he muttered.
“We have to kill the hawk,” Ben said.
“Won’t matter,” Cyril said. “The wolf will pick up our scent.”
“So what do we do?” Imogen asked.
“We attack.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Frank asked.
Cyril ignored Frank and faced Ben.
“When your hand is forced, when you have no good options and few sane ones, when your enemy thinks they have you at a disadvantage … attack. Strike by surprise and strike hard. Then vanish if you can.”
“This is insane,” Frank said.
Cyril projected a screen with a view from high above. Their position was marked with color, as were those of the hawk and the approaching Dragon Guard.
“If we move here,” Cyril said, pointing to a spot on the screen, “the hawk will follow. That will channel Nash into this valley, providing us with a perfect ambush point.”
“She has twelve men and a stalker. What do you want to ambush her with?” Frank asked.
“Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you about the explosives,” Cyril said, holding up a tablet two inches long and half an inch wide. “This will take a pretty big bite out of her, if we set it right.”
Frank looked at Cyril and shook his head in disbelief. “You never tell me anything.”
“I just did.”
“There are some moments that I wouldn’t ever want to miss,” Homer said.
Ben stifled a smile.
“So what do you have in mind?” Hound said.
“I want to fill this bag with rocks and set it on top of this ex-plus charge.”
“Ex-plus?” Imogen asked.
“Very high explosive. About twelve times as powerful as TNT by weight.”
“I don’t know what TNT is either,” she said.
“It explodes,” Cyril said. “We can ambush Nash and her Dragon Guard with it—right here.” He pointed to another spot on the screen. “Trouble is, this only works if most of us go this way to draw the bird, while one or two of us go plant the bomb.”
“I’ll go,” Ben said. He was tired of being hunted and chased. He wanted to hit back.
“I should go,” John said.
“Like hell,” Imogen said. “You can barely walk.”
The Highwayman seemed to deflate a bit.
“No,” Ben said, tapping the side of his head. “I’ll do it.”
“All right,” Cyril said. “Place this tablet in the sand along the streambed. Fill this bag with rocks … the best are the size of a man’s thumbnail. Put the bag on top of the ex-plus. That’s all. I’ll activate it when the enemy gets into position. Once you place it, follow the stream to the grasslands. We’ll be waiting for you on the far side. Don’t dally.”
“Keep your drone watching me.”
Cyril nodded, pausing for a moment before hugging him. “Be careful.”
“I will be,” Ben said, heading off into the forest with Homer at his side.
He set a fast pace, just a step or so slower than a jog, skirting trees and brush, clambering over fallen logs and running along clear paths. He relied on the drone feed to guide him toward his mark. It was starting to change the way he thought.
The feed also told him that the Dragon Guard were making good time, advancing almost as quickly as Ben, but not quite. He could move through the forest on his own with pretty good speed, and with the help of the drone to navigate, he reached his destination well ahead of the enemy.
He found a place in the narrow valley where the stream widened into a gravel bed two dozen feet across with water scarcely three inches deep flowing lazily over it. He raced fifty feet downstream and filled the bag three quarters full with small muddy rocks.
His first attempt to lift the bag met with failure. Bracing himself, he hoisted it up onto his shoulder and headed for the ambush spot. It was heavy. His legs started to lose strength, but he pushed on, driving himself forward by sheer stubbornness.
Reaching the shallow spot, he stopped, listening. Voices of men in the distance, cutting their way through the forest, wafted to him on the breeze, just barely detectable.
Ben checked the feed. Nash and her pet were still a ways off, but they would arrive within the hour. He took a breath, scanning the creek bed for just the right rock, smiling when he saw it. It was large and firmly embedded into the ground. The side facing the onrushing current was flat, and the water rose up in front of it just enough to cover the bag of stones.
He flopped the bag down on top of the rock and dug the ex-plus tablet out of his pocket, slipping it into the side seam of the bag before tying it off securely. Then he carefully placed it into the water, facing it upstream with the ex-plus tablet tucked into the crook between the streambed and the large stone.
He waited to ensure that the current wouldn’t dislodge the bag. Then he took a moment to go upstream to look at it, satisfied that it was completely obscured by the water.
“They’re getting close,” Homer said. “I can smell one of them.”
Ben nodded, heading off downstream toward the meeting point. He moved quickly, not bothering to cover his tracks, opting instead for speed. He had just reached the edge of the large grass field when an explosion echoed in the distance behind him.
In his hurry, he’d been ignoring the feed. Now he stopped to look.
Nine bodies were sprawled across the streambed. They’d been torn apart, killed in a moment of flying stones.
Ben stared at the image and felt a growing sense of guilt and complicity. He’d never killed before. And although he hadn’t pulled the trigger, he’d placed the weapon. He’d taken part in the carnage he was seeing unfold several miles away—and it revolted him.
A shot rang out from the opposite direction. His feed changed to the hawk, now diving for the forest at a remarkable speed. The seeker round couldn’t keep up on the way down, but it was there to strike when the hawk ran out of sky and had to level off. After closing on its target, the bullet accelerated for the last few hundred feet and exploded on impact, blasting the stalker into several pieces and casting them to the ground, still smoldering as they fell.
The feed shifted back to the scene behind him. Nash, her stalker, and three of her men were searching through the dead for survivors. Ben sat down and watched. She was angry, but also genuinely sad at the loss of her men. Her human response bothered him enough that he kept watching.
Eventually, she gathered her remaining men and set out toward Ben. At that point, the view shifted to him, standing in the forest looking up at the drone. He nodded and headed toward Cyril.
By the time he reached the others, it had started to rain and Ben found himself wishing once again that he had a better coat.
The rest of the day followed a carefully defined course that avoided an encounter with a bear and another with a Dragon Guard scout patrol that was headed toward Nash.
At the first glimpse of the city, Cyril turned east into the forest and up to the top of a spur. They emerged into a fifty-foot circular clearing filled with tall grass. A large house stood on the opposite side. It had glass doors and windows that gave way to a great room walled with a series of tall windows facing the valley below.
“Perfect,” Cyril said. “Hold here.”
He sent his drone inside the house and confirmed his suspicions that it was empty.
“We can’t produce any light in view of the city or we’ll be detected,” Cyril said. “This is important.”
“What are we going to do here, anyway?” Frank asked.
“Recon,” Cyril said. “We need information before we plan our attack.”
A glint caught Ben’s eye and he looked down into the grass that was growing from a spider web of cracks in the vanishing pavement of the driveway. He stopped and looked more carefully, finally kneeling down and searching.
He found a coin, half covered over with moss. He rubbed it clean, then
stopped, staring in disbelief—it was his coin, right down to the year. He stood up and pulled out his lucky coin. He held the two up together, first one side, then the other, inspecting both for any deviation.
“Hey, what’d you find?” Frank asked, his mouth going open when he saw the two coins Ben was holding.
“A coin,” Ben said, still a bit enthralled with the unlikelihood of finding a coin exactly like his.
“Where? There might be more,” Frank said.
Ben pointed to the spot he’d found it, then pocketed his lucky coin and handed the other one to Cyril with a question on his face.
Cyril examined it for a moment, smiling with pride and handing it back to Ben with a very deliberate wink.
“I don’t see any more,” Frank said. “Are you sure it was right here?”
“I’m sure,” Ben said, following Cyril inside.
The house would have been spectacular in its time, with a beautiful view and perfect seclusion. Now it was just as neglected, decaying, and falling-down broken as all the other places that had been abandoned.
“We’ll stay here for the night and leave at dawn,” Cyril said. “Nash will have our trail by then.”
“Maybe we should ambush her again,” Frank said.
“It would be nice to have her off our heels,” Hound agreed.
“That it would,” Cyril said. “But she’s still dangerous. Dragon-fire rifles and a stalker are not to be taken lightly. Perhaps another avenue of attack will present itself. For now, I’d like to keep some distance between us and Dominus Nash.”
After they’d cleared out a large room on the side of the house facing away from town, everyone settled in to wait while Cyril used his drone to explore the central parts of Rogue City.
By evening, Ben was bored … and he had access to the drone feed. He could only imagine how Frank and the others felt.
The drone had already made its rounds through the entire inner city’s defenses, an impressive array of magic and guards and mechanisms, and then made its way into the temple, searching out the infant child—finding him in a royal nursery, inside the temple’s inner sanctum. After all of the particulars were known, Cyril set the drone down atop another building and watched one particular door for hours.
Guards came and went. Cyril watched. Ben checked in on the feed now and then.
Finally, Frank couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m so bored!” he said. “Can’t we just go get him already?”
“We need more information,” Cyril said.
“We need to do something!” Frank said.
“Doing the wrong thing is far worse than doing nothing.”
Frank opened his mouth and thought better of it, turning for the door instead. “I need some air.”
Cyril resumed watching the activity at the wall around the inner city. He continued to focus his attention on one specific area—one door. Most of the buildings nearby were vacant, those few that were occupied housed drug addicts or fugitives. It was a dark, sparsely populated and mostly criminal area.
The only traffic in or out of the door was bought and paid for.
Ben snorted to himself, realizing that choosing to act against the dragon made him a criminal. The thought was laughable if the word had any meaning, but the reality was that he would be considered a criminal. And yet, he didn’t think he would fit in with the people living in the darker, less well-kept parts of town.
Another lesson.
Criminal had two meanings. First, those who hurt other people or stole and damaged property. Second, those who threatened the established power structure. So be it.
“Let’s go,” he said to Homer, heading for the staircase leading to the second floor.
“Be careful,” Cyril said.
“Yep,” Ben said, testing each stair before putting weight on it. A few creaked, one even cracked, but none gave way. He stopped at the top and looked both ways, smiling when he saw the double door at one end of the hall. The floor was mostly stable, a section of it was moldered through, but there were plenty of sturdy boards to make it past.
Ben pushed the door open slowly, loud creaking reverberating down the hall. He took a deep breath and shoved it open all the way.
Save for a moldy bed and decaying furnishings, the room was empty. He went to the large closet and found several rows of rotting clothing along with two cabinets.
Ben tried to open the cabinets, but both were locked. He drew his blade and started to place the point.
“Perhaps I could offer a better solution,” the augment said.
Ben stopped, standing up, half annoyed, half intrigued.
“Go on.”
“These cabinets are protected with rudimentary encryption. I could open them for you.”
“Great. Do it.”
“I have so many questions,” the augment said.
“Oh, for the love of God, you and me both. Either help me or shut the hell up.”
After a momentary pause, Ben felt a taxing of his new cognitive abilities. The two cabinets whirred and then opened.
“Huh,” he said. “Not bad.”
“If I just understood … more … perhaps I could be of greater help.”
Ben paused, considering his response for a moment. “Okay. There’s an evil, magical dragon that’s hunting us and I intend to kill it.”
“I opened the cabinets,” the augment said. “I hoped that you would act in good faith.”
Ben sighed, pulling the door of the first cabinet open. Hanging there was a series of business suits, completely pristine and perfect. The second cabinet contained the same, with the exception of the last hanger. On it was a long, brown, leather riding coat with a matching broad-brim hat. It was just like new, as if it had been taken right off the production line and stored in this box.
Ben pulled the coat out and held it up.
“What are the odds?” he asked Homer.
“I’m not a betting man.”
With a cocky smile and a flourish, he swept the coat around himself. It fell onto his shoulders like it was tailored for him, fitting perfectly. He checked the sleeves—perfect. He buttoned the coat—perfect, with just enough room for an undercoat.
He picked up the hat and smiled at it, carefully settling it on his head.
He laughed out loud, chuckling in his belly. The hat also fit like it was made for him.
He went back downstairs, wearing his new garments.
“What the hell?” Frank said. “Where’d you get that?”
Ben pointed toward the stairs.
“Just fancy clothes left. Be careful, the stairs and the floor aren’t all there.”
Frank hurried up to the stairs, cursing in pain when a board broke through and barked his shin. He took a moment to recover before reaching the second floor and heading for the master bedroom.
“All that’s left are formal suits!” Frank hollered.
“That’s what I said,” Ben muttered.
Chapter 30
“Nice coat,” Cyril said.
Ben was just about to reply when he saw John slump against the wall. He rushed to keep him on his feet.
“Bring him here,” Cyril said, motioning to his bedroll.
He gave the Highwayman a serious look and said, “You have to tell me what’s blocking my spell or I can’t help you.”
John looked around and nodded when Imogen was nowhere to be seen.
“I had my fortune read once,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to see what I saw.”
“I can’t see your fortune unless I try to … and I won’t.”
John thought about it for a few moments, finally looking up at Cyril and nodding.
Cyril put one hand on the egg and another on John’s forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he quickly, deftly, and precisely drew a circle on the floor with chalk. It contained a number of odd symbols and glyphs that Ben had never seen before, but his grandfather drew each like he knew exactly what they meant. He stepped inside and started mutterin
g a mantra under his breath, faster and faster. After nearly a minute, the circle pulsed with a soft, white light.
He knelt at the edge of the circle and laid his hand on John’s chest and then began speaking softly in some language that Ben had never heard before, his words filled with intent and unnamed meaning. A shadow suddenly sprang from John’s flesh, exiting his body all at once and lashing out at Cyril. When the smoky blackness rushed at him, it crashed into a wall defined by the circle and vanished with a faint wail.
He smiled reassuringly at John and said, “You should get some rest.” Then he took a minute to wipe away the chalk circle.
A moment later, Frank came back downstairs. “Nothing,” he said, as he headed out of the room again. “Maybe there’s something in the basement.”
It wasn’t long before Frank returned. “Not much down there either, just this old bag of tools.”
“Dump it out and let’s see what you got,” Hound said.
Frank nodded, knelt down and emptied the bag on the floor. A hammer, pliers, wire cutters, several screw drivers, a utility knife, and a roll of tape spilled out.
“The pliers and wire cutters are keepers,” Hound said.
“I’ll keep it all … for now, anyway,” Frank said, returning the tools to the bag.
After dinner, Ben went to bed early since he had last watch. When he woke to the light of day, he sat up quickly, looking around with a hint of confusion. Someone should have woken him. He went to Cyril and shook him awake.
“It’s past dawn. Watch broke down. I just woke up.”
Cyril took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face.
“Wake everyone for me?”
Ben nodded, going to Hound first. When he nudged Frank with his toe, something didn’t feel right. He pulled the blanket back and discovered that his brother was gone. His rifle, sword, hatchet, and tools were all there, but he was gone.
“Shit,” Ben said. “Frank’s gone.”
Cyril stopped preparing breakfast and looked up, shaking his head and cursing under his breath. He launched his drone and did a quick but very thorough search of the house and the immediate area.
The Dragon's Egg (Dragonfall Book 1) Page 29