Neither Donald nor Simon was surprised. It made sense, they had all thought of it and knew that it was impossible, but Catrina wasn't necessarily thinking of getting away afterwards.
"So how does that help us find her?" Donald asked, checking again that they were clear of soldiers who might discover them, or worse, overhear their discussion.
"I'm not sure yet,” Peter replied. “The Regent has stayed near to the front of the army, as far as we know. I heard some of the soldiers saying that he had taken up in one of the Road Trains, his General and advisers too. I guess that would make sense, the sleeping conditions for the rest of us haven't been great, sleeping in the rain by fires or hastily hung sheets of canvas."
"So she must be there somewhere, with the main bulk of the troops, you think?" Simon asked.
"I guess so,” Peter agreed. “I don't know for sure, but it's a start, somewhere to start looking at least."
Donald and Simon looked at each other, concern on their faces. "So, just to check we all agree," Simon said, his voice a whisper. "The plan is to go into the main body of the soldiers, hope that we are wrong and they don't have our descriptions, find Catrina amongst thousands of people who could well be looking for her and may have captured her already, and then, what? You think she's just going to leave with us?"
"I don't have all the answers,” Peter said sternly, “and I didn't ask either of you to do this with me. You guys should go, leave and try and regroup with Matthew. It's my responsibility to find her, to try and keep her safe."
"That's not what I meant, Pete,” Simon apologised. “I'm with you."
"Me too," Donald cut in.
"It's just that's not much of a plan, not really," Simon clarified.
"It's all I got," Peter concluded. The other men could see how exhausted he was, the dark rings under his red eyes, the slumped shoulders.
"Okay, Pete, we're with you, but we start tomorrow, after we've all had a chance to get some sleep," Donald said, rising to his feet. "We'll meet at the outskirts of the officers’ tents, let's say after breakfast, and help them pack up? Might give us some more info, and help explain our presence a bit."
They agreed before going their separate ways, anxiously waiting for dawn.
VI
They were woken by Joe's shouts shortly after midnight, followed by a rapid burst of gunfire.
Matthew woke first, reaching instinctively for his gun, with Mike and Carl close behind him. Matthew had been asleep in Arian's arms and the sudden movement startled her.
"Get Safran," he whispered to her before running silently to where the shots had been fired from.
Arian helped Safran to her feet before leading her away from the fire where they would make easy targets.
Ben was disorientated as Carl pulled him along behind him, Mike a few steps ahead, searching for any sign of Joe. A second shout directed their attention.
They arrived in time to see Joe wrestling with an animal, its teeth clamped tightly around his left arm as it pinned him to the ground. He was trying in vain to turn his gun around but his right arm was held fast beneath the creature’s bulk.
Matthew was first to act, firing three shots into the creature’s head. Joe was finally able to release his arm and scramble to his feet.
"More skeets to the right," he shouted, turning his rifle in that direction. Matthew, Carl, and Mike followed suit, choosing their targets before firing. Ben looked on, bewildered.
The creatures that were now moving in a pack to his right were like nothing he had ever seen before. He remembered the brief blur that he had seen in Garstang and reasoned that it must have been the same thing. They stood around five feet tall with large back legs and much smaller front legs ending in sharp claws. Their large heads were full of teeth, evident as they growled and snarled in his direction. Their hide looked reptilian in parts, but furry around their heads and necks, dirty and matted in clumps.
"Damned skeets," Carl spat, killing another with a burst from his assault rifle.
Safran and Arian could hear the shots, but were unsure of how to respond. Arian wanted to go to Matthew's aid, but knew that she had a duty to protect Safran, who stood anxiously at her side.
The night was broken by the sound of a snarl from only a few steps behind them. Both women turned quickly to see three skeets bearing down on them, teeth bared. Arian made to raise her pistol as the foremost animal leapt, knocking her to the ground. The pistol slipped from her grasp as a sharp claw tore into her shoulder.
Safran reacted as her tutors had instructed her. Leaping for the pistol, she rolled and came up firing, dropping the closest skeet with two well-placed shots to its head before checking her aim and killing the two remaining animals before they could get any closer.
Running quickly to Arian’s side, she dropped to her knees and applied pressure to the bleeding wound, her other arm raised and ready to kill any more skeets that dared come near.
"Thank you," Arian said through gritted teeth, the pain from the pressure on the wound almost overwhelming, but necessary. Matthew, Carl and the others were soon standing around them.
"Are you okay?" Matthew asked as he knelt down beside Arian. He sent Mike to collect his pack before taking over the application of pressure. Arian nodded and tried to smile reassuringly.
Joe was cradling his injured arm to his side as he surveyed the carnage. "You did this?" he asked Safran, surprise in his voice.
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly before turning to face Carl. "My father may not have taught me to cook, but he taught me to lead, both in peace time and in war."
Carl only smiled and shook his head.
The wounds were dressed and the weapons reloaded. Carl and Mike offered to take watch together for the remainder of the night, but everyone agreed that they would be unlikely to sleep. Mike gathered more wood for the fire and they all gathered around it.
"What were those things back there?" Ben asked as he warmed himself.
"Skeets," Carl replied. "Wild ones, at least."
"Wild ones? You mean people keep them as pets?" Ben said, surprised.
"Not pets exactly, no,” Carl told him, “but they make great guards. You just need to remind them who's boss every so often and they'll do whatever you want."
"So why did they attack us?" Ben continued.
"I'm not sure,” Carl said. “They don't tend to go after people unless their den is disturbed or food is scarce. They didn't look like they were starving, but there were definitely females amongst them."
"Is that unusual?" Ben asked, his fear giving way to interest.
"It can be. The females tend to remain in the dens and tend to the young while the males gather food. We could have come across their den yesterday, disturbed it somehow."
"I don't remember seeing anything, though," Joe cut it, examining the bandage on his arm.
"No, me either," Matthew agreed.
Matthew and Carl passed a knowing look between them. Maybe it wasn't them who had disturbed the den.
Carl cut the edible sections from the skeets and wrapped the meat in cloth before distributing it between their packs. The meat could be tough, but there should be more than enough to last them to well past Garstang if they were careful. Less time hunting for meals would also mean more time travelling between rest.
The following morning, they set out, heading for the mountains to the southeast. Joe had swapped his rifle for a pistol, his left arm still in a lot of pain. Arian was pale, but did her best to keep up, Matthew supporting her when needed.
It was Carl who kept one eye behind them, but if there was someone following them, they were too good for him to spot.
VII
The officers gave orders as Peter, Donald, and Simon set to work, gathering up the blankets and the large sheet of canvas that had been suspended between three trees. They had confirmed that the Regent was indeed staying in the foremost Road Train; the General, other officers, and advisers taking up the remainder of the carriages. A warm dr
ink after a cold night in the rain had loosened tongues more quickly than a barrel of ale could.
They listened to the conversations as they stowed the blankets into the back of a wagon.
"That skeever Boshtok,” one man said, “if you're not in his little circle, you sleep out here with the peasants. And Larson, when did he get so high and mighty with the Regent, eh? In on all the meetings? I remember him through training, cowardly little skeet he was too."
"I hear he's the Regent's special assistant, if you get my meaning," another soldier commented. This brought a chuckle from the other officers.
"I'll be glad to be done with this and get settled in Draxis,” the first man continued. “I hear those southern women don't care which uniform you wear. In a month, the Barony will be ours and they'll be lining up to gain a little extra favour."
Donald and Simon struggled to control their tempers as the soldiers spoke, Peter casting them worried glances.
Before long, the wagon was loaded and the army began marching again, its steady trudge south. The three men wandered in towards the main bulk of the army behind the officers. They weren't given a second glance by anyone around them.
They split up and began their search, though soon had to abandon it as the real army stuck to much more organised regiments than the conscripts. Every time they tried to move from one line to another, they drew attention to themselves, angry looks and shouts from drill sergeants. In the end, they marched with the regiments, looking around as far as they could, but there was no sign of Catrina.
A halt was called early afternoon to allow the army a brief respite and the chance of food and water. They took the chance to disappear as quickly as possible before they had to answer any awkward questions, meeting up again further back as the army started its march again.
"This is crazy," Donald said. "We were lucky we weren't arrested or worse. There's no way we can do this during the day."
The others agreed and continued their steady walk until nightfall.
As the soldiers made camp, Donald, Simon, and Peter moved between the hastily constructed shelters, searching for any clue that might tell them where Catrina was. Wary of asking any direct questions about her, they instead drifted between groups, sharing in the discussions that became more open as the ale flowed.
This continued for five days, each of the men becoming increasingly despondent, unsure how long they should proceed, unsure how long their luck would hold. It was on the sixth night that a piece of news came to Peter's attention.
It wasn't about Catrina herself, but the discovery of a soldier found dead on the previous night, stabbed several times. This wasn't that unusual, there had been a fair number of fights between the soldiers and the conscripts, many of which had resulted in the death of one of the parties. What peaked Peter's interest was that the soldier had been stripped bare, his uniform taken.
It was a long shot, he realised that, but his instincts told him that it was important. His instincts had kept him alive on the streets of Island City, helped him solve a variety of crimes during his twenty years as sergeant in the City Watch, and he wasn't going to start ignoring them now.
Once the bulk of the army were sleeping, he met with Donald and Simon as he had done every night before. This was the first night that he had arrived before them, an eagerness to pass on his news.
"What makes you think it was Catrina?" Donald asked
"Honestly," Peter replied, shrugging his shoulders, "my gut. Something about how they described the injuries. He wasn't just stabbed once. 'Frenzied and brutal' was what one of them said. I don't know, just what happened with Catrina that first night, it reminded me."
"I suppose it makes sense," Simon added, "if she is after the Regent. We've had enough trouble trying to blend in on the outskirts of the troops. If she wanted to get anywhere near the siege weapons or the Road Trains, she would need to look the part."
Donald nodded in agreement. "But how will this help us find her?" he said. "It was hard enough when we were looking for someone who looked out of place. Now she'll look like everyone else."
"I know,” Peter agreed, “but now that she has a plan, I don't think she'll wait long to act on it. She may have already tried, but I think we would have heard something if she did. She'll go at night, when most of the troops are sleeping and there are only a small number of guards at the front. That's where we need to watch."
Donald and Simon gave each other a confused look before responding. "Okay, Pete," Simon said, "you're the boss here, but I can't say I like it."
"Me either," Peter replied before outlining the rest of his plan.
VIII
It had been four nights since she had taken the uniform and she had finally managed to get most of the blood out. After scrubbing at it in collections of rainwater every night before stowing it in her pack, the stains were now only visible up close, and once she had managed to get up close, it would already be too late.
She had managed to shadow the armies from a safe distance in the Wastelands, two miles to the west of the Great Road. She was hungry, the small amount of food she had taken with her had lasted little more than a day, but after tonight, it wouldn't matter anymore.
After tonight, she would no longer feel hungry or thirsty, and most importantly to her, after tonight she would no longer feel any pain. She knew that there would be no way out, not once he was dead, but he would be dead, and her boys avenged.
She could finally be at peace.
IX
Matthew kissed Arian passionately before pulling her close to him, their bodies wrapping around each other beside the fire. Joe and Mike had taken up positions at opposite ends of the small camp, their turns to keep watch until he and Carl took over shortly after midnight.
Carl, Ben, and Safran sat talking on the other side of the fire, trying not to notice the couple’s tender embrace.
"We're nearly there," Carl said, removing the hanging pot from over the fire and pouring each of them a cup of warm berry tea. "We should be in sight of Garstang tomorrow or the day after, according to the map,"
"And then up the mountain and into the lab," Ben replied, sipping the bitter beverage.
The rain had eased off over the last two days but it was still very cold. Between the fire and the warm mug, he was just about able to feel his fingers.
Safran sat staring at her mug, lost in her own thoughts. She seemed to have changed since they were attacked by the skeets, quiet and distant. Ben had taken to calling her “Wonder Woman,” the Amazonian princess. Suffice to say, she was not impressed.
"And how long, then, will it take us to get to where we need to be?" Ben continued.
"You tell me,” Carl said. “Once we have one of those, what did you call them, cars? If they go as fast as you say, it should only be..."
"Carl," Safran interrupted, "there is something I would say."
Carl stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at her, surprised by the look of embarrassment on her face.
"I have decided that I should apologise," she began, still staring at her steaming drink. "You were right in what you said to me. You risked so much to save me, save us from the dungeons, and I never said thank you."
"No need," Carl replied, but Safran cut him off.
"Please, let me speak,” she continued. “I have added to the difficulties of this journey where I could have helped, thinking myself above the daily routines. You are right; my father did teach me better, and he would be disappointed by my behaviour thus far. I just want to get home. I just want to see him again."
She tried to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. Carl reached to put an arm on her shoulder, but Ben beat him to it.
Safran made no move to push him away so he edged closer to her, pulling her into a hug. "It's okay,” he said, “we'll get there, you'll see him again. It won't be long now, will it, Carl?"
"No, not long," Carl agreed. "A few more days is all and we'll get you home."
Safran nodded, wiping
away the tears. "Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse. "That's what I really wanted to say, thank you."
X
It was Simon who spotted the lone figure first, moving stealthily from the edge of the camp towards the Road Trains. Peter took off at a low sprint, intending to intercept them before they were spotted by any of the guards. The moon was almost full and they were both clearly visible.
As he got closer, he was unsure whether it really was Catrina. The build was right, the uniform hanging baggily at the shoulders, but he struggled to identify her face. It was only when he was nearly on top of her that he realised the difference.
Catrina reached for her knife as he grabbed her, the tip at his throat before she took in who it was. "Wait, wait, Catrina, it's me, Pete," he said hurriedly, putting his arms up in surrender.
She returned the knife to her belt and started walking away from him, back towards the Road Trains.
"You can't do this, Catrina. It's suicide," he said, following her. Catrina said nothing until he grabbed her, pulling her round to face him.
"Get your hands off me," she raged, breaking free, barely contained anger showing on her face. Peter took an involuntary step back.
The noise had brought some of the attention from surrounding guards, who were already making their way towards the commotion. Peter saw the threat and reached for her again.
"We can't stay here. We have to move," he said, starting for the nearest camp. Catrina cast a look at the approaching soldiers and reluctantly followed him. There were shouts for them to stop, but before long, they were lost amongst the crowds and then hidden in the underbrush away from the road.
Knightfall - Book 1 of The Chronicle of Benjamin Knight Page 28