"Well," said Casey, a gleam in his eye. "It ain't gonna be any easier for the Norties. If they're mad at us now, they're really gonna hate us in a couple of hours."
"What about the other patrols?" Angie asked. "If they're watching the passes, they could move in and stop us. The Nortenos have radios."
Rowan shook his head. "We'd know if they got ahead. They'd be upwind."
He was telling the truth, she knew. The Seagraves just did things differently, interacted with the world through the lens of their lupine condition. It made them perfect soldiers. Nathan had been a fool to trade them to the Tzitzime.
"At any rate," Rowan continued, "we're going to pick up the pace."
She stared at him in near panic, realizing he was serious. Can I keep up with them?
Casey must have seen the fear in her eyes, because he smiled and clapped a heavy arm around her neck. "Don't you worry, Angie-baby. You're sticking with us."
"All right," Rowan said to all of them. "Try not to kill your horses. We may not find any more between here and the Midlands."
Angie, her nerves stretched taut, stared at their backtrail along the dry riverbed. Men were coming for them, and if they caught them...
"You okay?" Erin asked, her large blue eyes flashing with concern.
Then Angie saw they were all watching her. "Fine, I'm fine," she lied. "Let’s do this thing."
Shane squatted beside the lake's edge, cupped water in his hands, and poured it over his curly black hair, drenching his neck and back. Around him, his men rested, drinking water and stretching, letting their horses graze. He felt rather than saw when Sergeant Garcia approached. Shane picked up his cape from where he had placed it, rose with a groan, his back stiff from riding, and turned to face the Norteno Ranger. "Well?"
"They're just ahead of us," the sergeant said. He held a piece of cloth in his hand.
"What am I looking at?" Shane latched the cape around his neck, making sure it hung so that he could draw his hexed saber.
"From an oat bar, one of ours. At least we know they're not eating any better than we are." He smiled, his teeth yellow from chew.
Shane felt his face heat. "You think this is funny?"
The smile vanished from Garcia's face. "No, sir."
Shane stared past him, where the dog wrangler was having trouble with his mutts. There were six dogs, mongrels mostly, a mixture of shepherd and wolf, and none of them looked even remotely interested in anything the wrangler was doing to get them back on the trail.
"What's that all about?"
Garcia spit chewing tobacco on the ground. "Dogs ran to a boulder and started sniffing it. After that, they lost their shit. Don't wanna work no more." One of the dogs, a particularly aggressive brute, snapped at the handler, baring his teeth in warning. "And I don't think they're going any further. We're gonna have to do this ourselves."
Shane stared at him, his eyes tight in confusion. "A boulder?"
"Someone pissed on it. The dogs don't like the scent."
Shane closed his eyes and sighed. "Fucking werewolves."
"Yes, sir."
Shane turned to the badlands to the north, a series of long ridgelines that were going to be a bitch to cross. His back twinged in sympathy. "We were wrong. They're not going for the passes."
"No, sir," Garcia acknowledged. "They're going over the badlands. It's gonna be hard on the horses, easy to break a leg."
Shane pursed his lips, raising his eyebrows. "Good thing we brought extra mounts. Shoot any animal that gets hurt, and if those dogs don't do their fucking jobs right fucking now, I want you to shoot them as well."
Just for a moment, anger flashed through the sergeant's dark eyes, but he wisely said, "Yes, sir."
"Okay." Shane glared to the north, the air shimmering with heat. "Get 'em all up and in the saddle. We're moving out again before they get any further ahead. Call in the outlying blocking groups. See if they can't maneuver in front of these assholes."
When he gave the order, Shane knew there would be no way the blocking groups would be able to do that, but the idea of their sitting on their lazy asses watching mountain passes the fugitives were never going to take enraged him. If he had to bust his ass, everyone did.
Chapter 20
The next few hours were among the worst of Angie's life.
While she was mostly on horseback as they crossed the steep hills, valleys, and gullies, the terrain often forced her and the others to walk their mounts or risk breaking an animal's leg. Rowan’s badlands did traverse the southern edge of the mountains, but each step was a battle. Fortunately, their pursuers had it just as bad. They heard the Norteno soldiers more than once and often surprisingly close, although Rowan claimed noise bounced about in the hills. Casey hung back, watching the Nortenos, and twice he hurried forward to report they were closing in. Both times, Rowan picked up the pace. Once, they even heard a gunshot echoing behind them—but it had only been the one shot and hadn’t been directed at them. Then, just as the sun was setting, they came through the worst of the terrain, edging their horses over a crest to see the crimson-and-shadow-painted hills of the Japatul Valley and its pine forests below.
Angie brought Cobble to a halt beside Erin's mount, where she had dismounted to gaze upon the forests below. The horses were exhausted, their chests and necks flecked with the soapy white sweat called latherin. Angie dismounted as well and patted Cobble's neck. "Good girl."
Erin handed Angie her canteen. Angie stared at it for a moment, knowing Erin needed it. She had finished her own water at least an hour ago. "Go on," Erin said. "We don't need as much water."
Angie didn't know if that was true or not, but she took the canteen and drank from it. It took more willpower than she thought she had, but she stopped herself from finishing it and handed it back to Erin. "You too."
Erin raised her eyebrows in an amused smirk but drank the last of the water. "Pretty country, isn't it?"
"Be a lot prettier if we weren't being chased."
Erin made a noise halfway between a grunt and a snort. "Must admit I'm surprised they’re still coming. What the hell did we do to them? It's a shitty way for them to thank us for not hurting anyone while escaping. Dicks."
"We've been their boogeymen for so long they must think we had something to do with Tec and Morgan's disappearance. Our escape probably cemented that idea."
Rowan and Jay joined them, leading their exhausted horses. Rowan pointed into the valley. "Road down there, at least what's left of a road."
He was right, she now saw. The trees and brush had nearly obscured it, but there was a two-lane asphalt road running south to north. "It'd be the Japatul Valley Road if memory serves."
Rowan chewed his mustache as he stared at it. "Runs all the way to Highway 8, right, the Kumeyaay?"
She nodded. "We could make good time on it."
"We could," Rowan admitted, his doubt clear, "but it would be dangerous. Don't know who's got eyes on it. Best to stay in the woods, even if it’s a tougher slog."
"Rowan," Erin said, her voice soft with concern, "the horses are exhausted."
Rowan frowned. "These’re good animals. They’ve still got some spunk in them."
Just then, Casey came out of the trees behind them, his face showing his worry.
"How long?" Rowan asked.
"Less than an hour, maybe not even. They've got spare mounts."
Rowan swore beneath his breath but nodded. "Okay. We get down into the trees. I can smell a stream nearby. We rest the horses for thirty, but that's all."
Maybe Angie was tired, but she was certain she was beginning to know Rowan well enough to pick up on the worry in his voice. That bothered her more than anything.
"Let's get going, people," Rowan said.
Rowan's sense of smell was accurate, and he led Angie and the others to a stream deep in the pine trees. The horses drank and rested while their riders refilled their canteens. Casey, his hands on the small of his back, stretched, groaned, farted, an
d complained about old age. He couldn’t have been that old—somewhere in his late forties, Angie guessed—but Jay quickly agreed with him, offering to find him a walking stick. When Casey told Jay what to do with his stick, Angie smiled, having become used to their banter. She sat on a moss-covered boulder near the stream bed with Erin. Birds flitted overhead, singing happily, and insects buzzed about their heads.
"You know this area?" Erin asked, still looking fresh and beautiful after an entire day in the saddle.
Angie, on the other hand, was so tired she kept nodding off, jerking awake again a moment later. "What?"
"I asked if you know this area?"
"Oh, yeah ... sorry. We're about ... eight, maybe ten kilometers south of the Kumeyaay Highway."
"What about Ferals?" Jay asked, dropping down between Erin and Angie, forcing his sister to shuffle over and make room.
"Must be," Angie mumbled, her eyelids growing heavy once more.
"I'm sorry, Angie," Erin whispered as if it were her fault the woman was so tired. "We can't stop, not yet."
"It's cool," she said. "I'm cool. Cool beans." She giggled, but the others clearly didn't get it, judging by the searching looks they gave her.
"Okay," said Rowan, rising to his feet. "That's all the time we can spare. Let's di di mau."
"Let's what?" asked Jay.
"Go, let's go." Rowan sighed and began to walk his mount through the trees, mumbling again about children. Angie, weariness coursing through her, rose and followed, leading Cobble.
Chapter 21
Several times in the next hour, Angie nodded off while walking and was only jarred awake by Cobble nudging her with her large head. She draped her arm around the horn of the horse's saddle as she walked, zombie-like. She was only vaguely aware that they moved northwest, keeping the Cuyamaca Mountains on their right. Rowan found another stream, this one flowing in the same northerly direction they needed to go, so they followed its more open path, moving faster now.
And then they stumbled into an ambush.
The woods on their left came alive with bone-chilling screams. Dark figures rose from the trees on their left, trapping Angie and the others against the stream. Angie's exhaustion vanished as adrenaline shot through her. A volley of arrows whistled at her, but the Other created a shield faster than Angie could react, and at least a half dozen arrows snapped and broke against the shield in a shower of sparks. Cobble, trained for gunfire and not magic, reared in terror, knocking Angie down. As she rose, shaking her head, a horse screamed in agony and fell with a crashing thud.
At least a dozen Ferals brandishing spears and axes—long dirty hair entwined with bone ornaments, their clothing a mixture of patched-together pre-Awakening garments and homemade animal skins—charged out of the trees, rushing at her and the others. All were men, their skin covered in a layer of filth no soap would ever clean. Two of the Ferals carried a homemade rope net between them as they charged right at Angie. Angie froze, but gunfire erupted around her, the short bursts of professional soldiers engaging targets, and the two Ferals with the net stumbled and fell.
The gunfire jolted Angie into action. Her rifle was still on Cobble's saddle, so she drew Nightfall, the dark blade flashing as she assumed a mid-guard stance. This time, she held the blade with both hands, knowing this wasn't a duel but a butcher's fight, and she’d need every ounce of her strength to hack and cut. The first of three Ferals was on her, trying to hit her with clubs, but they all seemed to hesitate—to fear hurting her.
They want me for breeding, she realized in stark terror, replaced a moment later by anger.
There was little point to sword-fighting the much-heavier weapons, so she didn't bother. Instead, she cast Shutter and flashed to their left, appearing behind one of the men. She cut forward, using both hands to bring her side-sword's edge down on the closest Feral’s shoulder and neck. The impact was jarring, and her blade bit deeply, but her draw-cut as she danced back opened the wound further, severing his external jugular vein and sternomastoid muscle. The man screamed and spun away, spraying blood as he grasped at the horrific wound. If she had had time, she might have wondered at her detached manner, but she was already readying herself as the other two rushed her.
More gunfire dropped one of them, his face literally shot off from behind, and Angie saw Erin with her rifle on her shoulder, aiming at the other but hesitating for fear of hitting Angie instead. The Feral lashed out with his club, but the Other shielded Angie, sending him reeling back in surprise, almost dropping his weapon. Angie cast Shockwave at his legs, reacting by instinct. Some combat mages used Shockwave to trip up a foe or knock them down. This time, the ground blew up in a shower of dirt as both of the Feral’s legs were ripped off at the knees.
Another volley of arrows flashed at her. The Other blocked them with a shield, and pieces of broken arrow shafts rebounded away from her. Her gaze flicked to one of the broken arrowheads lying on the ground. The shaft was topped by a small round sack the size of her fist—they were still trying to capture her alive.
At least six Ferals charged her with clubs. She braced herself as she prepared to hit them with another Shockwave spell, but bursts of automatic fire cut all six down, and she saw both Erin and Casey nearby, quickly changing magazines, more dead Ferals at their feet.
The tempo of the gunshots picked up and became a steady stream of aimed shots now. She saw Jay, his weapon tight to his shoulder, walking forward, calmly shooting Feral after Feral as if he were pulling weeds from a garden, but his face reflected his horror. Casey lifted a Feral into the air with both hands and threw him twenty feet to collide into a group of others, knocking them down like lawn pins.
Then Angie sensed something new—someone was casting a spell. Stones and branches flew at her as if from the barrel of a shotgun. Instinctively, she raised her hand before her face, but the Other—faster than thought—had already created another shield, and the debris rebounded from her.
There, less than twenty meters away, stood a Feral with an ax in one hand, his other hand still extended toward Angie. He was young, with long, dark hair and a forked beard adorned with ornaments. He wore a sleeveless green vest around his lean torso and blue jeans so old they were little more than rags.
She cast Shockwave, but a translucent red shield flashed into existence in front of him, dissipating her spell. The pine trees on either side of him exploded in a shower of needles. He has a shade, she realized in amazement. It was like watching two suns rising in the morning. No one had ever even heard rumor of a Feral mage, certainly not one bonded with a shade.
Only Fey knew how to bond shades.
Didn’t they?
He took his axe in a two-handed grip and charged her. Before she could move, Erin bolted in front of her. She took her assault rifle in both hands and swung its butt at the mage’s head. Once again, his shade protected him with a shield, and Erin’s rifle shattered in an explosion of sparks that sent Erin flying.
The mage ignored Erin, coming for Angie. She forced down her panic and concentrated on fighting. He might have been a mage, but without a hexed weapon, his ax would never touch her. He feinted to her right and then switched targets at the last moment, shoving his ax head forward at her face. Her training kicked in, and she swept back, swinging away on her hip, but he was fast, and his ax head almost hit her face, coming so close it brushed her hair. Realization washed over her like icy water—he did have a hexed weapon.
Now she fought for her life.
He pressed his attack, coming at her with a reverse swing. Axes were heavy weapons, impossible to parry with side-swords, so she slipped to the side as his weapon whistled through the air where her head had been. She cut at his lead leg, but he drew it back viper quick. She dropped into Viggiani's ward, an inside guard designed to help fight opponents armed with two-handed weapons, usually polearms. As large as he was, he could easily bat aside her thin blade and bury his ax in her face. There was no way she could go toe-to-toe against him. She'd need t
o move within his attack, to strike first and beat him to the target. She watched his eyes, his shoulders, and his weapon, but she also paid attention to his feet, knowing that they would give away his intent first.
And they did. As his right foot lifted to slide forward in an attack, she darted inside his reach, thrusting her blade at his throat. He reacted to her attack, twisting aside at the last moment instead of committing to his own strike, but he was a second too slow, and she felt the impact as Nightfall bit into his shoulder. He screamed and brought his right elbow down on her extended arm, breaking her hold on her sword. A moment later, lights exploded in her vision as he hit her in the temple with his ax handle. She flew back, pain stabbing between her eyes, but rolled over and came to her knees to see him draw Nightfall from his shoulder, blood trailing down his body. Pain wracked his face, and he dropped the side-sword to the ground, readying himself to come at her again.
Before he could move, she cast Shockwave but this time aimed the spell at the ground in front of him. The earth exploded, showering him with debris that his shade blocked, but it bought her a few precious seconds. The other Ferals were fleeing now, dragging their wounded with them as the Seagraves kept up their fire. Her attention snapped back to the mage, but before he could rush her, gunfire lashed into him, throwing off sparks as his shade protected him. His eyes showed his understanding that his friends were fleeing. Casey advanced on him, firing as he stepped forward. The mage spun and bolted into the trees.
"Let him go!" Rowan yelled, stopping Casey.
Then someone was beside Angie, holding her arm and helping her rise to her feet—Jay. "Are you okay?"
A wave of vertigo coursed through her, and Jay caught her before she could fall. She trailed her fingers over her scalp, and when she drew them back a moment later, they were covered in blood. She stared at Jay in confusion, only now seeing the arrow shaft jutting from his left shoulder. "Jay, you're hurt," she said, forgetting she too was hurt.
The Awakened World Boxed Set Page 44