Wine of the Gods 4: Explorers

by Pam Uphoff

  Greeson interrupted. "So. They've cut and run."

  "Hardly run." Kolnavik frowned at the Agent. "They're heading home. And those horse and wagon things are dead slow. Especially through the grass."

  Greeson swung around. "Really? When and where did you last see them?" He glanced at one of the troopers. "Get up on the ridge and take a scan." His gaze came back to Kolnavik.

  "Just over the ridge. Eight in the morning. We had breakfast before we crossed the ridge. They went the other way." The civilian gulped. "Who are you? What's going on?"

  "Special Agent Greeson. Who are you?"

  "Scott Meyers, linguist on contract to Dallas."

  "What is going on?" Hastings frowned at the Gate Agent.

  "Apparently the One World has located this world. These two 'natives' of yours are spies." Greeson gave him a thin smile. "Like as not, those two would have wound up on our world, negotiating the conditions for us to import labor from here, and the laborers would have been well salted with spies. Possibly all of them would have been spies."

  "I see. We did wonder about a small subset of the people, because of the traveling, as they call it. But they're very similar to everyone else. They have the same types. Races, almost." Meyers was frowning. "Well, we've visited an impressive sized city, and the drone aerial pics show larger cities and well established agriculture, so there are natives."

  "We've been talking to the King of one country, and ambassadors from three others. We've got terabytes of data." Another civvy sniffed. "I've been studying their financial system. It's not the least bit primitive, although it is conservative."

  "I have missives from their Government to ours." Hastings looked down his nose. "And my superiors may or may not share our reports with you. But I need to warn you about these . . ."

  "After I return to gate camp, you will show me your data. Right now we need to try and intercept these spies. Go back to your gate camp. Now, who knows the ground around here?"

  The middle age woman in the Dallas checked jacket was bundled into the government gyp before she got her mouth half open. They took off at speed and shot up the slope. They braked abruptly at the top, turned and headed down into the gloom.

  ***

  Never checked over her shoulder, but the gyps weren't visible, even though she could hear their engine noises coming and going as the hills blocked, echoed and amplified the alien sounds. They could travel home from the first hot spring in the Rip. If they pushed the horses a bit, they could make it in five days. But two weeks on grass had made the horses fat, lazy and soft. They'd have to make an early night of it.

  Dydit and Lefty had been dawdling behind, keeping an eye on the Earthers. Now they closed up the distance.

  "They're over a couple of hills. Out of sight, and good riddance." Dydit grinned at her. "This is better, now I can tell that you haven't run off again."

  She let the team walk until they'd cooled down, then trotted them again. They drove from known stream crossing to known stream crossing, and in late afternoon she found a reasonable camp and pulled the weary horses to a halt.

  She woke in Dydit's arms, the 'I am being hunted' itch strong. He woke when she rose, and muttered something under his breath as he felt it too. "Rise and shine children, Bad Guys on the way."

  The horses got a hasty feed as they were harnessed, and they headed out in the predawn. Lefty led on foot until the light brightened, then remounted. The sound of the gyp preceded the machine as it crested the hill behind them. A copy of them split off and galloped away as they paled. Never handed Question the reins, and dropped to the ground. Dydit pulled up next to her and she fed him power to keep up the illusion. "Without a charm to anchor it, I can only throw the illusion about half a mile. Let's just see what their intensions are. I shouldn't be this itchy if they were friendly." He ran a thumb over her knuckles, but his gaze was ahead.

  The gyps zipped past them and overtook the galloping illusion. Flashes of light raked the wagon, staying high and then dropped and concentrated on the horses. Dydit's illusions staggered and collapsed, the wagon slewed dangerously then stopped.

  "Guess they don't want to talk." The real Dydit pulled power from her, as she reached to touch Storm. Question put her bare feet on both of the harnessed horses, Lefty leaned and grabbed her arm. Dydit threw his awareness out as far as he could reach. A flat where they'd camped on their way south. They jolted forward and were there.

  "Twelve miles," he wheezed. "Let's add to it."

  Never fed him power. "I can't believe you brought the wagon."

  "Didn't have time to pack. If nothing else, we need grain for the horses."

  She nodded, and climbed into the wagon.

  Dydit brought up the rear, placing illusions. False trails, impassable streams, grass fires, easy slopes where there were abrupt drop offs and then he set a real grass fire . . . by sundown the horses were exhausted, and their pursuers had halved the distance.

  "We'll abandon the wagon tomorrow," Dydit said. "Pack what we need for three days. travel and ride."

  He wolfed down dinner and curled up to sleep immediately. Lefty and Question split the watches between them. They had everything ready to go in the morning. Zig and Storm in abbreviated harnesses, and blankets under their surcingles to make riding the big horses a bit less uncomfortable than riding bareback. And Never tied off sacks of grain and trail food to the rings on the surcingles. Through the living horse she could pull the Earth power almost as well as standing on the ground. She fed Dydit energy as they joined hands and he reached ten miles out and focused on a rock formation, and took them there in a single step. She filled herself again, and sent the power to Dydit. Focused on a stream crossing they both remembered. Ten more miles. She poured power into him as he reeled in his saddle. He gave her a glassy eyed smile and followed Lefty as he led them across country. Without the wagon, they were less constrained in their stream crossings and meandered less as they closed in on the Rip.

  By noon they could hear the gyps. Never looked worriedly at Dydit. "Can you cast an illusion of us? I can cover us with invisibility."

  "I'll get the light warp," Question said. "You feed him power."

  "No illusions. Better if they don't see us at all."

  Question warped light around the four horses. The outer world went dim and reddish. Inside their close group everything was quite clear. The low rumble of thunder from the west had Question gritting her teeth.

  Lefty bent his short bow around his knee to string it. "No objections?"

  "None what-so-ever. Whoever that is shot an illusion of us, with intent to perhaps capture instead of kill, but they obviously weren't worried about a fatal accident." Dydit touched the hilt of the sword he wore a bit uncertainly.

  "Most of them are wearing the same uniforms as the guards I was dodging on the other side of the gate, and the old man looks unfortunately familiar. He may be holding a grudge." Never said. "I'm afraid it's all my fault."

  Dydit nodded but Lefty shook his head.

  "Well, it may be your fault." Lefty shrugged. "But from what Question has told me we needed to know as much about them as possible. We've seen the diplomats, and were not impressed. Now I'm afraid we've just seen how trigger happy their guards are. We need to make this bunch show us some respect. These people may be a long way from the Kingdom, now, but that can change really fast, with those gyps."

  The gyp crested a hill to their north and stopped. They studied the three men in the gyp, as the three men studied the countryside. The man not in uniform turned and pointed to the northeast.

  "Oh crap." Never squinted to the northeast. "Can they see the road down from the Rip from up there?"

  "The ramp is pretty obvious." Question said.

  "And we've built a pretty good road all the way through." Never slid off the horse and handed Dydit the reins. Sat down cross legged. The gyp was over a mile away . . . on dirt, not rock. Wet dirt. A second gyp pulled up beside the first. "You know, we really ought to rope in so
me mages. I really hate working water."

  Dydit's hand slid around the nape of her neck. "What are you trying to do?"

  "Make a hole. Sink the gyps."

  "Ah, well, if we can build a bridge, surely we can pull the dirt out of that water . . . There you go."

  The gyp noises ceased and when Never opened her eyes, ten people were scrambling away from the oozing quagmire that had just engulfed their machines. "Looks like we just gave Roxy a bit of a scare. And hopefully the rest of them too."

  "All right, lets see if we can beat them to the nearest hot spring," Dydit said. "We'll take out that last section of road once we're up there." He tossed Never up on Storm and mounted Little Bit.

  While a fresh horse can out run a man easily, in the short term, tired horses hadn't much advantage over men who'd been riding the relatively comfortable seats of a gyp, not with two day's travel ahead and an exposed bottleneck in the middle of it. Not when the men were this close to them and armed with that weapon that had flashed as it cut down the illusion of horses.

  "Dydit," Lefty looked back. "What if we stayed down in the valley, got to a spot below the road where it emerges from the Rip. Could you travel us all up to the top?"

  Dydit blinked. "Have I ever told you that you were brilliant?"

  "Actually I'm lazy. I just purely hate long steep climbs like that."

  They rode until dusk, then camped where they had a long view around. Lefty, Question and Never stood watches and Dydit slept. The horses were stiff and still tired in the morning. Dydit and Never traveled them ten miles, then they walked the horses for miles before asking for a trot, and alternated walking and trotting all day.

  "There they are." Lefty pointed at three distant figures perhaps a quarter of the way up the steep road. "Damn, why couldn't they have been fat happy city guards?"

  "Some of them are pretty good at covering the ground, aren't they? There's four more just starting up the ramp." Dydit sighed and leaned to pat Little Bit. "Sorry girl." He trotted her ahead.

  Never had to pop Storm with the ends of the reins to get the gelding to speed up. I've never ridden a horse into the ground before. Yet one more new experience.

  At their mid-day break she brought out her flask. "It not the real Joy Juice, just healing, but . . ." the horses each got a bare lick. She tucked the dregs into her sack, and they remounted. The horses moved easier, and even managed a brief gallop. By nightfall the cliff was close, the road nearly half a mile over head. The horses were shuffling.

  "Hoo Key, as the Bad Guys say." Dydit let Little Bit stumble to a halt and held out his hands. Never pulled power, sagging as it filled her, she passed it on to the equally tired man.

  "Stop right now." Question said. "Never, you and Dydit split the rest of that healing stuff. And it's time to abandon the horses."

  They shared glances around and all slid off their mounts.

  "Sorry about the last day, you turkey," Never patted the big horse and stripped him of all tack.

  "Should have just abandoned you the first time." Dydit kissed Little Bit, and walked over to Never. "We'll be back, probably in a few months and they'll come wandering in looking for oats."

  "And if not, Nil probably bred the mares, so they will repopulate the continent." Question pointed out. "Your buddy can be the Queen of the Old World."

  "What about Muddy?" Lefty grinned, and kissed his mare too.

  "She's the Rival Queen." Never said, and took a gulp, passed the flask. "Zig's the ugly step-sister. And if this stuff works the way the joy juice does, well, Storm's a pretty good fellow." The wine burned all the way down her throat and she took a deep breath as the concentrated spells tingled all the way out to her fingertips and down to her toes, to surge back with a burst of power.

  "Whoo!" Dydit grabbed her, and pulled her in for a hug. "C'mere, you two, pretend you can stand us."

  Seconds later they were at the top of the road. Ten feet away from the Bad Guys.

  ***

  Florian Hastenberg was certain he was going to drop dead at any moment. He'd always tried to stay fit, but Greeson was a marathoner. But a sensible one. He and his fellow marathoning troops had made it to the top of the ramp and hunkered down with the binoculars to watch the horsemen below. Two of the guards were just ahead of him, the last pair were toiling up the ramp, in worse shape than Florian. Roxy, the Dallas driver, and Jefferson had been left behind when the gyps sank.

  The ramp was a killer. He hated hills. Hated running. Hated Greeson. Despised Jefferson. Loathed this damned world. His list of hates got him to the top. Greeson curled a lip at their condition and waved them back a bit, before he turned his attention to what was happening below. Florian looked at the way he was hanging over the edge and shuddered. And laid down on the nice cold stone to listen to his blood pulsing through his ears.

  "Ha! They've run those horses into the ground. They're abandoning them. Now we'll see what they're going to do." Greeson sounded hungry.

  Florian staggered to his feet. "Some of us should have stayed on their trail. Maybe they've got caves or something, down there." The last two troopers still hadn't made it to the top of the ramp. Ha!

  Greeson deployed something, and retreated from the edge. Florian looked over his shoulder. He held a tiny two dee screen that showed the four Oners all gathering in a huddle. Then they disappeared, leaving only green grass and tired horses on the screen.

  Florian looked up, and found the horrified Oners staring back at him from just a few meters distance.

  Never Ash waved her hand as she and the Oners dived in between the canyon side and the Authority agents. Black mist solidified into a shiny slick wall and wrapped around them. The troops threw up their rifles and started shooting. White flashes blinded him, as the laser charges hit the blackness. Explosive backsplash hit Florian like a wall of solid heat.

  "Don't shoot," Geeson snapped. The Special Agent threw himself at the black wall. It deformed stiffly. Something on the other side shoved back, odd bulges . . .

  Florian leaped to help. "I think we have one of them pinned." The surface convulsed, then they shoved it another step and hit something unmoving and unyeilding.

  The Oner had escaped.

  But Never Ash was here. Right here. She must not be allowed to escape. Her capture could fix all of his problems, bring him name recognition, promotion. Florian threw his hands out and headed up the canyon after them. It was like shoving a tight plastic sheet. It tried to deform rather than move. Greeson whistled up his troopers and they all started pushing. It mushed and dragged and enveloped them until Florian was half panicked it would smother them. Then it suddenly turned into jello, then mist, then was gone altogether.

  The Oners were out of sight. A foggy wind was picking up, blowing in their faces. Chilly and moist, stinking of sulfur. Florian's knees felt weak. Had they passed through a gate? This felt like a different world. Or perhaps a nightmare. But the canyon walls and river were still here.

  The four troopers moved out, and Florian hustled to keep up with Greeson as he strode behind them. The fog wasn't thick, he could see the cliff walls as the canyon widened. But he couldn't see ahead more than hundred meters. The troopers zapped a figure . . . no, just a rock, sticking up like a miniature mesa. Florian forced his legs to carry him forward. Must capture Never. Can't fail because I'm a bit tired. A bit? I'm too woozy to move. He forced himself to walk. The rock was mostly smooth. A small stream cascaded down the canyon wall. He was too tired to appreciate the chilly beauty. And he didn't like the looks of the little bridge over the stream. More bridges crossed more runoff streams, carrying glacial melt down to the river. A thick fog formed overhead and the mist at ground level thickened. The light dimmed. The floor of the canyon was getting rougher, like a miniature bad lands, with small plateaus and drop offs down to the river. The moist wind was getting warmer, and the sulfur smell stronger. They were following a more distinct road now, above a four meter tall bank that sloped down to badlands, with the river at the
limits of visibility beyond. Something in front of them moved, two figures diving from the road. A laser shot lit the fog in a line that intersected one figure. It collapsed, firing back, a beam of light that lit the fog in a sheet of continuous fire. Florian dropped behind the nearest rock, as the troopers crouched low and moved toward the drop off to the badlands.

  Sounds echoed oddly in the fog, and he suddenly heard Never's voice.

  "God of War!"

  Was she cussing at them? Praying? He heard a metallic clink, someone scrambling in loose rock . . .

  What came up over the bank was a nightmare. It looked like an ancient knight, a giant riding a huge black horse, floating almost soundlessly. A blade that shone even in the dim light swung and the closest trooper was falling apart, blood fountaining. The other troopers started firing, but the first shot reflected off the figure's breast plate, then the rest were stopping a meter away. Greeson drew a pistol and the sharp cracks echoed off the vertical walls. The horseman tossed a ball of light at him. It skimmed through the air, then exploded. Heat washed over Florian where he crouched. Greeson had been the closest to the fireball. The blast threw him past Florian. He landed in a trickle of runoff and writhed in agony for a moment before collapsing. At least the water put out the flames. There were more screams, two troopers raced past him, fleeing the nightmare.

  Florian cringed at the grit of heavy hooves on rock, approaching. He broke, conquering panic long enough to grab Greeson and pull him out of the water, drag him . . . He cast a panicked look back. The nightmare horse reared, then faded in the fog. He dragged Greeson another hundred meters, then laid him down to check for a pulse. Actually, he could hear the man breathing. His face and hands were burned badly, his clothes had melted, here and there, and stuck to the underlying skin. Florian started up in panic as figures melted out of the fog, then collapsed in relief. The troopers were back.