Tracker

by Cyndi Friberg

  “The elf contingent will be here at dusk,” Xorran told her.

  “They better bring Heather with them or this could be another stall tactic.”

  “We’re aware,” Xorran sighed. “The overlord wants you there. He thinks it will be good for Heather and he wants you to verify what they say.”

  She nodded. “I’ll do it for Heather, but you’ll have to restrain me if they start playing games.”

  They gathered by the barracks at sundown, not wanting the elves too close to the Wheel.

  The overlord was decked out in his barbarian costume, snug black pants, long red cape, heavily tattooed chest bare. Thick munitions belts crossed his torso, and the sides of the cape were thrown back, giving him easy access to his weapons. Sara had only seen him like this once before and she had to admit it made him look incredibly mean.

  A purple haze fell over the scene as the sun sank below the horizon. The overlord paced beside Wenny’s enclosure and the cub followed him, batting playfully at his billowing cape. Suddenly, Wenny stopped and her head cocked, then she let out a mournful cry. Seconds later a louder, deeper call echoed in the distance. Wenny clawed at the fence, then balanced on her back legs as she banged with her front paws.

  Sara hurried over to her. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  Momma come. Momma come. The thought shoved into Sara’s mind with graceless enthusiasm.

  Sara turned around just in time to watch Isolaund emerge from the forest. Her dark green hooded cloak concealed her hair and most of her body, but Sara recognized her sharp features and ice-cold stare. Not to mention the massive battle cat walking at her side. Was that Wenny’s mother? The karron was huge, and heavily armored, striding along with lethal grace. This was a prisoner exchange. Why did Isolaund need a battle cat?

  Well, to be fair, the overlord was armed to the teeth and had his best warriors stashed in the trees surrounding them. Clearly trust was an issue on both sides.

  Momma! Go see Momma!

  Isolaund’s battle cat turned her head sharply and called a throaty greeting to her cub. Wenny ran the length of her enclosure and back, too excited to remain still.

  Reaching down, Isolaund stroked the battle cat’s head, then spoke a word Sara didn’t understand. Immediately the battle cat turned her head back around and stared straight ahead. Clearly she’d been reprimanded for her behavior.

  Not wanting to draw undue attention to Wenny, Sara said, “Deztee.” Then she raised her right hand and made a fist.

  Wenny stilled and her excited vocalizations stopped, but telepathically she persisted, Go home? Momma take home? Please!

  The cub’s blue eyes pleaded right along with her sweet mind voice and Sara fought back tears. This is your home, baby. You need to stay with me.

  Wenny’s only response was a forlorn little cry.

  Sara was so distracted by the upset karron that she barely noticed General Alonov. He wore sculpted armor and a variety of weapons, not unlike the overlord. His golden gaze narrowed as he looked around. “Where is my son?” he asked in Sarronti.

  Isolaund repeated the question in English.

  “He will be released as soon as I see Heather. Where is she?” the overlord responded in a calm, even tone. Despite his outward stillness, his dark gaze took in everything.

  “We felt it essential to set some ground rules before we make the actual exchange,” Isolaund told him.

  “Until I see Heather, know that she is alive and unharmed, we have nothing to talk about.”

  “Fine.” She huffed, flipping back her cape. Her simple gown was heavily embroidered with metallic thread. The colors were undetectable in the dimness, but moonlight made the pattern gleam. She slid her fingers along her forearm, then made a curving gesture with her hand.

  A life-sized image of Heather appeared between Isolaund and the overlord. Heather looked around, confusion clearly written on her face. “Hello,” she called. “Is someone there?”

  “She can hear us, but cannot see us,” Isolaund explained. “Speak to her if you must. The signal can be undependable at this range.”

  Which meant Heather was not nearby.

  “Heather, this is Kage Razel. Are you okay? Have you been abused in anyway?”

  “Oh please, get me out of here! Where are you?”

  “You’ll be released soon, but I need to know that you’re unharmed.”

  “Scared, filthy, and royally pissed off, but they haven’t really hurt me.” An instant after the words left her mouth, her image blinked off.

  “You have your confirmation.” Isolaund shrugged and her cloak swished forward, concealing her body again. “Now may we speak candidly?”

  Alonov muttered something Sara couldn’t hear.

  Isolaund nodded, then looked at Kage. “We require the same assurance. We need to see Farlo.”

  “Torak,” the overlord called out and the burly warlord walked out of the barracks, his fist tightly grasping the young elf’s upper arm, a pulse pistol pressed to his side.

  “Are you well, son? Have they harmed you?” The concern in the general’s tone contradicted his war-hardened appearance.

  “I’m fine, sir. It takes more than this lot to harm a Sarronti soldier.”

  Alonov smiled and Torak dragged Farlo back into the barracks.

  “We’ve both agreed to the exchange,” Kage said. “I’m not sure what else there is to say.”

  “You are trespassing on land that belongs to the Sarronti,” she said firmly. “We expect you to leave.”

  “It’s my understanding that you are unable to inhabit this land,” the overlord’s tone was just as insistent. “I consider that a vacancy.”

  “We are the guardians of this place and you are defiling it!” Her tone rose nearly an octave as her ire escalated. “You have no right to chop down these trees or kill the animals in our forests. Only savages eat flesh.” She shuddered violently.

  “We’ve been called worse.” When she just glared at him, the overlord said, “If you want to talk boundaries or limitations, I’m willing to negotiate. But leaving is not an option.”

  Alonov asked what Kage was saying, so Isolaund paused to catch him up.

  “Then why do you look so annoyed?” the general asked once she had finished. “The council wants us to negotiate. That’s why we’re here.”

  She made an exasperated sound and turned back to Kage. “The far side of the planet is somewhat dry, but we might be able to tolerate your presence over there.”

  The overlord laughed, a harsh, hallow sound. “The far side of this planet is a wasteland. We’ll stay right where we are.”

  “Then so will Heather,” she sneered.

  “You already agreed to the exchange.” His tone was so tight it sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

  “I changed my mind,” she snapped and whirled around, cloak fanning out around her. With a heartrending glance at her cub, the battle cat followed her mistress into the trees.

  Alonov rushed after Isolaund, demanding to know what had been said.

  “That bitch,” Kage snarled. “She had no intention of making the exchange.”

  “Then why bother coming at all?” Xorran asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe she was sizing us up, maybe getting a better look at our encampment.” He called out to Torak and told him to take Farlo back to the Viper.

  “This is all Isolaund,” Sara told them. “Alonov asked why she was arguing, said the council sent them here to negotiate with us.”

  Kage nodded, looking thoughtful rather than angry. “This is personal with her. We need to access the council directly. Isolaund will sabotage us at every turn.”

  “Then how do we get Heather back?” Sara cried. “Isolaund controls her.”

  Kage looked at Xorran. “I’ve had enough of this shit. I want you, Torrin and Torak to go get her. Torrin should be able to get you in, Torak can fight off any guards, and you will be able to locate her.” He sighed. “I guess that should have been a question. If
Torrin and Torak assist you, will you be able to find Heather?”

  “I’ll sure as hells give it my best shot.”

  “Good. Then figure out what you need to make this happen. I’ll send the others to you as soon as they’re free.”

  “Understood.”

  The overlord strode off toward the Wheel and Sara realized she hadn’t had a part in the escape plan. “I’m just supposed to stay here and pet Wenny?”

  “Yes,” Xorran said firmly. “Isolaund is spoiling for a fight. This could get ugly fast. I don’t want you anywhere near any of it.”

  “But I went last time,” she pointed out.

  “That was recon. We were assessing the situation, nothing more.”

  Wenny made a forlorn sound that tore at Sara’s heart. The cub had been pacing the fence line or digging at the ground ever since Isolaund stormed off with her battle cat at her side.

  Momma, come back. Momma, pleeease!

  “Go on.” He carefully opened the gate and Sara slipped inside the enclosure. “Your baby needs you.”

  He was right. Clearly Wenny was devastated to be separated yet again, but Sara also knew he was using it as a distraction.

  TORRIN AND TORAK ARRIVED about an hour later. They discussed strategy for a few minutes, then headed out. The plan was simple. Get in, find Heather, get out as quickly and quietly as possible. Their hope was to remain undetected, but each was heavily armed just in case. Xorran led them through the forest with new confidence. He knew he could find the location, but he still had no idea how Torrin was going to activate the opening when no one else could.

  It was fully dark by the time they reached the small clearing. They carried handheld torches, but kept them pointed toward the ground. Xorran motioned to the cluster of bushes. “This is the area where Wenny reacted. We searched everywhere but couldn’t find the door.” Challenge crept into his tone, but the assassin just smiled.

  Without a word of explanation, Torrin splayed his fingers and ran them over and around each bush. Did he have some sort of subdermal scanner? What in creation’s name was he doing?

  “Aha, very clever.” He pressed on a section of dirt directly under one of the bushes and Xorran heard a strange hissing pop. Inset slightly beneath the bush, the trigger was obviously meant to be activated with the foot. Suddenly the rock formation directly behind the bushes undulated, then dissolved.

  “I’ll be damned,” Xorran muttered. “How did you find that?”

  Torrin stood and brushed off his knees. “Trade secret. If I told you, I’d have to kill you, and I rather like you.”

  Torak rolled his eyes. “He’s a freaking cyborg.” The warlord shoved Torrin aside, drew his weapon, and headed into the opening.

  “I was born, not manufactured,” Torrin stressed in an angry whisper. “I am not a cyborg.”

  Maybe not, but he was no ordinary hybrid either. “Are all of your powers technology-based or were you born with abilities?”

  “Later,” the warlord urged, motioning them to advance.

  Xorran nodded and followed the bigger male into the stone passageway. It was dark and dank, rounded like a tunnel. All three males had to hunch over because of the limited space. Torrin was directly behind them. Xorran could sense the assassin, but he moved silently. The more Xorran learned about the assassin, the more fascinating he became.

  The passageway angled downward and the temperature dropped steadily as they descended. The coolness felt nice after the heat and humidity on the surface, but this wasn’t a leisure exploration. They had a job to do.

  Xorran drew energy into his center and activated his empathic receptors. Tuning out everything but his objective, he scanned outward in slowly expanding pulses of energy. Heather had been afraid and angry. He searched for that combination and the basic energy pattern shared by humankind. Each race felt different and each individual was a variation on that theme. There was only one human in the Underground, so she wasn’t hard to find. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone either.

  “This way,” he urged as they reached the next corner.

  Torak looked at him uncertainly but followed.

  Xorran hurried his pace. Fear was rapidly eroding her other emotions. He ran, no longer trying to be silent. He turned down one corridor and then another. As he came to an intersection, he heard voices, so he stopped his companions with an upraised hand, and waited until the small group of elves passed in the adjacent corridor.

  Heather was below them he realized as her signal grew stronger. Frantically searching, he found a wooden ladder and climbed down, then headed back in the direction they’d just come.

  “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Torak’s voice was harsh and impatient. “We’re backtracking.”

  Focused entirely on Heather, Xorran didn’t bother answering. Heather’s fear assailed him in sickening waves. He rounded the final corner and a shrill scream confirmed his destination.

  He lunged into a dank chamber very different from the rest of the cave. His boots slid on the slimy stone floor and undulating light reflected off the pool on the far side of the room. Fury detonated inside him, propelled by vivid memories. He took in the all too familiar scene with one assessing glance. Heather huddled against the wall, legs drawn up to her chest, tears streaming down her grimy face. Alonov stood nearby, grabbling with Arrista.

  “The council forbade this!” Arrista yelled, stubbornly hanging off one of Alonov’s arms.

  “Keep it up and you’re next!” the general shot back, but she still wouldn’t let go. He swung his other arm, punching her squarely in the face.

  Fucking bastard! Xorran threw himself across the room, vision hazed red. Arrista moaned, hands slipping as she sank to the floor. Xorran shoved Alonov away from the women, then punched him as hard as he could. The general grunted, head snapping to one side. But he shook off the blow and attacked with a flurry of punishing jabs. Xorran absorbed the pain with practiced ease. Physical abuse was nothing new. This bastard needed to die! He pulled back his arm, ready to continue the fight, when a pulse of energy streamed past his cheek. The shot hit Alonov in the chest. He shrieked, shuddered, then collapsed in a graceless heap.

  Xorran left him where he fell and turned around. The warlord returned his pulse pistol to the bracket on his thigh and swung Heather up into his arms. Torrin was already holding Arrista, who hung limply in his embrace. Heather clung to Torak’s neck, weeping like a terrified child. She was rather young. Her hysteria was to be expected. Arrista was clearly unconscious, apparently knocked out by the general’s punch.

  “Head out,” Xorran urged. “I’ll cover you.” He glanced once at the fallen general. Would killing him make matters worse?

  “Are you coming?” The warlord called.

  Xorran nodded and they jogged back the way they’d come. Xorran ran behind the others, his weapon now in his hand. Heather eagerly climbed up the ladder, but Arrista made the trip draped over Torrin’s shoulder. They were nearly to the entrance when a pair of guards spotted them.

  “Run!” Xorran fired first, drawing the elves’ attention while the others sprinted for the exit. Xorran ducked behind a jutting rock formation and fired at each guard in turn. One fell with the first volley, but the other was far more skilled. He mirrored Xorran’s movements and matched him shot for shot.

  Opening his empathic receptors wide, Xorran locked onto the elf, waiting for the surge of emotion that would indicate his next offensive. This was a tactic Xorran had perfected over seemingly endless battles. He was thankful for the skill right now. The elf dove to the side, abandoning his cover just long enough to shoot. But Xorran was ready for him. He fired half a second before the elf, then barely rolled out of the way of the elf’s energy stream. The elf fell to the stone floor with a muffled cry and Xorran didn’t look back. He ran as fast as his legs could move and burst from the opening into the forest.

  The rest of his team was nowhere in sight. Good. The females were their top priority.

  Fl
ipping on his torch, he ran through the forest, the path somewhat familiar now. He found the river and was able to run faster along the grassy bank. The Wheel had just come into sight by the time he caught up to the others.

  “Are they on your tail?” Torak asked, his voice gruff and commanding.

  “No. There were only two and I incapacitated both.”

  “Good job,” Torak muttered, high praise for the stoic warlord.

  Arrista was awake now, but seemed content in Torrin’s arms.

  “We’re headed to main medical,” Torak told Xorran. “Go update Kage.”

  “Will do.” He asked the computer the location of the overlord and was directed to the war room, aka Kage’s office, on deck five. The door slid open as he approached and Xorran’s steps faltered when he found Sara sitting across the planning table from the overlord. “Is everything all right?”

  She smiled at him and patted the seat next to hers.

  “Your stubborn mate refused to leave the cub, so I took her into protective custody.” Kage told him with an unapologetic smile. “You really do need to get control of your female.”

  “I’m trying, sir. I assure you.”

  “The best ones are always hard to break,” the overlord said.

  “The best ones refuse to be broken,” Sara countered.

  “I’ll take your word for it. The last thing I need is a female to complicate my life.”

  “You don’t intend to claim a mate?” she sounded horribly offended. “How can you expect something of your men that you refuse to do yourself? That’s hypocritical.”

  “She has a point.” Xorran slipped onto the raised chair and grabbed the back of hers, a possessive motion he couldn’t stop.