At Empire's Edge (18 page)

So rather than sleep, as she knew she should, Alamy had been sneaking out every third or fourth night to surreptitiously visit the library and plunder the treasures available there. The first step was to slip out of bed, push her pillow down under the covers, and grab the clothes that were waiting on top of her footlocker.

Then, with the clothing tucked under one arm, it was time to make her way down the center aisle to the bathroom on the right. That was where she slipped into both her uniform and a pair of sandals so that if one of the guards caught a glimpse of her on a security camera he would assume she was working nights. Unless he checked the duty roster—when he would discover otherwise.

But if everything went as it had on past occasions, Alamy wouldn’t be spotted. The need to be stealthy was very much on Alamy’s mind as she left the bathroom and paused to consider her route before entering the hallway. By taking the back stairs up to the first floor, and walking a short distance down the hall, it was possible to open a small, unobtrusive door and slip inside a service room.

Then, by entering instructions into a touch screen, she could summon a food cart, hop aboard, and ride it up to the fourth-floor library which didn’t get much use. Confident that the route was clear in her mind, and not having heard anything unusual, Alamy slipped out into the hallway. But as Alamy hurried toward the back stairs, she heard a distant shout, followed by the quick
slap
,
slap
,
slap
that bare feet made as they hit the marble flooring. Someone was not only running Alamy’s way but would spot her the moment they turned the corner unless she could find a place to hide!

So the young woman slipped into one of the alcoves that lined the hall. It was tight but there was just enough room for someone small to crouch behind a likeness of a five-foot-tall Esselon Dire Beast. The statue wasn’t large enough to conceal all of her body, but the stylized animal threw a dark shadow against the back wall, and that would have to do.

As Alamy peered out from behind the Dire Beast, she was perfectly positioned to see a half-naked slave dash past, her features contorted with fear, as a couple of guards pounded after her. Then the woman vanished from sight, but Alamy heard a distant
thump
as the fugitive was thrown to the floor, followed by a harsh male voice. “Stupid bitch! Grab an arm, Darius. . . . She won’t get away again.”

“I’ll put some stripes on
your
back if she does,” Hingo said ominously, as he passed through Alamy’s field of vision. “I don’t have all night. . . . Let’s get on with it.”

The woman, whom Alamy had recognized as a slave named Lea, sobbed loudly as the men hauled her away. Shocked by what she’d seen, and no longer interested in visiting the library, Alamy waited to make sure the group was truly gone before returning to the dormitory. Once there, she removed her uniform and slipped into bed.

It took the better part of an hour to get to sleep, and once she did, the slave found herself trapped in a series of vivid nightmares. The worst of which found her staring into Hingo’s soulless face as his eyes raped her, and his bare knuckles caressed her cheek.

Big snowflakes were falling, and had been for hours, as a pair of hooded figures led a string of six shaggy angens around a blind curve, and onto the flawless carpet of white that marked the trail’s end. It was as far as the party could go without venturing out onto the rope bridge beyond. And given the fact that the other end of the span was invisible, thanks to the swirling snow, Cato thought it was safe to pause for a few minutes before tackling what would almost certainly be the most dangerous phase of the trip. For even though visibility was poor, he could see the vague outlines of the jagged peak beyond, and the keep that crowned the top of it. That, according to information extracted from Issit, was where Cato would find the Lir Chieftain he was after.

Belok, who was riding in one of the large saddlebags that the lead angen carried, stood, thereby exposing his head and shoulders to the elements. “Brrr!” the Kelf said cheerfully. “It’s cold out here!”

Even though Cato was wearing a mountain parka, matching pants, and heavy-duty boots with a Lir robe thrown on top of that, he was still cold. So the thickly furred Kelf wasn’t going to get any sympathy from
him
. “It is a bit chilly,” Cato admitted, “and the snow makes it difficult to see. Are you ready?”

Having killed three Lir warriors and appropriated their angens and weapons, Cato and his companions were well armed. Belok wasn’t big enough to handle a Uman-made assault rifle, but the energy pistols that the Lir typically carried as sidearms were small enough to wrap his fingers around, and he had three of them. One for each hand plus a backup that protruded from the back of his leather britches.

Like Cato, Phelonious was at least partially disguised by a robe that hung to his mechanical knee joints, and was carrying an assault rifle plus ten clips of ammo. The problem was that Phelonious had only been able to fire a dozen practice rounds on the way up the trail and, outside of some bar-room brawls, had never been in combat before. Phelonious was determined to help, however, and would be an asset, so long as he didn’t fire on his friends.

Cato knew that the sniper rifle would be of limited use in a close-quarters firefight and had chosen to carry an assault rifle instead. Would the additional firepower combined with the element of surprise be enough to carry the day? There was only one way to find out. “Okay,” Cato said. “Let’s get going. . . . And remember, it’s very important to deal with the sentries quietly, because a single gunshot will bring the entire clan down upon our heads.”

“Don’t worry,” Belok said stoutly, as he sat down. “We know what to do.” Cato closed the pack but left the flap undone so Belok could push the top open when the need arose.

Cato and Phelonious positioned themselves at the front of the column of pack angens, knowing it would probably be necessary to tackle the sentries as a team. The rope-and-wood suspension bridge was a simple affair that consisted of wooden planks supported by two sturdy cables, with two more located at waist level, where they doubled as hand ropes. Woven side lashings served to bind all of the elements together and prevent people or things from spilling out over the sides into the river gorge below.

At first Cato was hesitant to put his full weight on the structure. But Phelonious seemed oblivious to the potential danger, and the angens were not only familiar with the span, but eager to reach the food that waited beyond it. So, with the animals pushing from behind, Cato had no choice but to accompany Phelonious onto the span.

The rope bridge began to sag once they were out on it, the cables creaked in response to the additional strain, and when the wind hit the pack train from the side, the entire assemblage began to sway. That, plus the fact that the wooden planks under Cato’s feet were covered with a thick layer of ice, made it difficult to remain upright. Cato discovered it was all he could do to move himself ahead, never mind looking out for Belok, or the heavily burdened angens.

But the span held, and as they passed the halfway point Cato saw the far end of the bridge and the stone hut positioned next to it. Judging from the wisp of smoke that issued from the chimney, it was heated by a dung-fed fire. Did that mean the sentries were lounging inside? Drinking whatever cold warriors drink? Or were they waiting at the bridgehead with weapons at the ready? Squint as he might, Cato’s eyes couldn’t penetrate the murk, but by swiveling the assault weapon around so that it hung across his chest, he was ready for anything. Cato knew the shit would truly hit the fan if he was forced to fire the weapon, because at that point he and his companions would be forced to retreat across the bridge while the Lir attacked from above. Not a pleasant prospect.

The question of how many sentries were posted at the bridgehead soon became clear. As Cato and Phelonious neared the north side of the span, a robe-clad warrior became visible. But only
one.
That suggested others were inside the hut taking a break. The sentry came forward as if to greet his returning clan brothers, and opened his beak to speak. Then he saw the Uman face, took a full step backward, and was about to fire his weapon when Cato threw the knife.

It wasn’t a skill that Cato had mastered, partly because there had been no need to, and partly because of the considerable practice required. As a knife blade flies through the air it turns end over end making it necessary to be just the right distance from the target in order to score a clean strike. And that takes a good eye plus lots of experience.

That was why Cato’s knife failed to hit the sentry point first in the middle of his scrawny chest, but
hilt first
between the eyes instead. Though not what Cato intended, it had the desired results. The blow knocked the Lir off his feet and onto his back. Phelonious was there to pounce, and a bone-crushing
thunk
was heard as the android’s assault rifle came down on top of the Lir’s crested skull.

Meanwhile, having opened the pack and jumped to the ground, Belok waddled over to the hut. The Lir were shorter than the average Uman, but taller than the average Kelf, so Belok had to tuck a pistol into his left armpit in order to reach up and pull the door lever. Then, with a fully charged weapon in each fist, Belok kicked the barrier open. As the door swung out of the way and the incoming air caused the fire to flicker, three Lir turned to complain. One of the warriors was standing, having just removed a kettle of hot water from the swing hook over the fire, so he took the first energy bolt. Because the Kelf was so short, it hit him in the crotch.

The warrior dropped the kettle as both of his clawlike hands went to cradle his badly damaged sex organs. He then uttered a birdlike scream as boiling-hot water splashed onto his right foot, and fell silent when Belok shot him in the head. Fortunately, energy weapons produce very little noise, the stone walls were enough to contain the scream, and no alarm was given.

The other two Lir were in motion by that time and going for their weapons, as Belok fired both pistols at once. The shots weren’t aimed, but they didn’t have to be, not in such a confined area. The stench of ozone filled the air as blue bolts flashed across the room. They hit one warrior, quickly followed by the other, who went down in a flurry of feathers as a pulse of coherent energy tunneled through his chest and scorched the rocks beyond. So, as Cato entered, assault rifle at the ready, there was nothing for him to do but stare. “Damn,” Cato said in amazement. “Where did you learn to do
that
?”

“What?” Belok inquired dully, as his eyes panned the room. Then, as the reality of the carnage hit him, the Kelf ran outside to throw up.

Cato took note of the handheld com set that was sitting at the center of a crudely made wooden table, gave thanks for the fact that none of the Lir had been given a chance to use it, and took a quick inventory of the room. There were more assault weapons, of course, but the
real
find was a box containing eight fragmentation grenades. Just the thing for defending a bridge against a determined enemy or evening the odds as the threesome pushed up to the fortress above.

Conscious of the fact that the dead warriors were no doubt expected to report in from time to time, Cato hurried to explain the way the miniature bombs worked to Phelonious and Belok before providing each of them with two grenades. Then, having appropriated the remaining bombs for himself, Cato went outside. The first part of the assault on High Hold Meor was a success. But the main part of the fortress loomed above, and there was no way to know how many warriors awaited him there, or how the invasion would go. But a promise had been made to those who had been slaughtered at Station 3, and having failed them before, Cato was determined to honor it.

Having witnessed a violent abduction the night before, Alamy rose, expecting to hear other slaves talking about it, except that, in marked contrast to what Alamy had seen with her own eyes, the word on the palace grapevine was that Lea had run away and was hiding deep inside The Warrens.

Alamy wanted to correct that version of things, but couldn’t do so without admitting where she’d been, and why. A story one of her peers would no doubt sell to Hingo in return for a favor and thereby set Alamy up to receive twenty-five lashes.

So once the morning dishes were done, Alamy took advantage of a fifteen-minute biobreak to stop by the hallway table that she and Persus used as a message drop. But, as Alamy opened the drawer, she saw that a scrap of paper was already waiting inside. Persus had marked it with an “X,” which meant that the need for a meeting was urgent. And that was curious indeed. Did Persus have information pertaining to Lea? And her disappearance? Or did the other slave have something else in mind? There was no way to know.