The Alliance (5 page)

“Very good.” Anneke smiled at him. “Tell you the truth I feel more
Rawnie
than
Rakli
at the moment, more woman than girl, eh?”

They joined the others at the fire and Anneke drank the black unsweetened tea gratefully, her mind wakening. These were foresters. They’d judge direction from the tree trunks rather than the sun.

“You know south,” she asked, and three right arms pointed unerringly in the right direction. “Good.” She nodded in confirmation. “This is the pattern you must use.” She scratched it on the ground, marking the position of each mound with a cross. “All the distances are equal, so you can adjust it to the space you have, only the orientation is critical. You understand, eh?”

Three vigorous nods answered.

“Good.” She swept the ground, destroying the sketch. “Show me, eh?” She went back to the fire for another mug of tea, opening her mind to scan the area.

The sergeant was on his way, so were the smugglers, the latter group making an unusual daylight march across unpopulated forest to a rendezvous. Current progress suggested the sergeant and his men would come up behind the smugglers. It should distract him, which was just as well. He was very good and his time off-planet made him dangerous. Anneke couldn’t argue with any part of his reasoning. She’d have to watch him carefully.

“Good morning.” Rachael joined her, body moving awkwardly as she limped toward the fire. “I expected to feel worse.”

“We’re going as soon as the mounds are lit. There’s too much movement around here.” Anneke’s mind calculated distances and angles, ready to intervene and give the smuggler boss a nudge in the right direction, but she noted Rachael’s reaction with some admiration. The girl had clamped down on her instinctive wail of despair and hardened her mind to the prospect of further flight. If Anneke could keep her body going, the mind would do the rest.

“What’s the Alliance’s interest here?”

“As far as I know, they’ve none. I’m just visiting friends.” Anneke stopped short of a direct admission, but gave Rachael a mental tick for deduction. “Grab some tea and we’ll see how they’re going with the mounds.” She turned away and started walking.

“Go ahead, I’ll join you.” Rachael was content with the lack of denial for the moment, but Anneke knew she could expect further questions.

They set the central stakes of the mounds to provide the top vents and Anneke was impressed, both the orientation and the spacing were right. Rachael’s signal would be perfect.

“You’ve done well. Right smart fellows, eh?” She patted the bowman on the shoulder. “Tell anyone who asks you always use this pattern, eh? Your lucky charm from a
Pavee
. Given years ago, eh?”

The bowman/leader nodded slowly. “Everyone?” He studied Anneke’s expression. “We’ve been doing it this way for years?”

Anneke’s nod was enough for him.

“I’ll make sure the others understand,” he said. “You’ll be on your way soon?”

Anneke nodded again.

“We’ve got some traveling food stashed. I’ll show you where.” He led the way. “Take what you need. Whoever comes, you were never here.”

Anneke made a secret promise to see this man rewarded. He’d not believed a word of her story and acted purely from gratitude for the life of his sister’s child. “I’ll remember,” she said, speaking normally. “Count on it.”

He shrugged his shoulders and gave a wry grin. “Remembering is good. Here comes your friend.”

Rachael had taken the time to tidy her clothes and braid her hair more tightly, reminding Anneke this was a woman beautiful enough to turn heads in any company.

“I’m ready,” she said and turned deliberately to the charcoal burner. “I am in your debt. Thank you.”

“The ugly duckling no longer.” He was grinning at Rachael. “Don’t go too close to the others or I’ll get no work done this day.”

Anneke helped herself to as much food as they could carry comfortably and she gave half to Rachael. “We’d best be going,” she said and then, to the man, “be very careful near sundown. There are smugglers coming and soldiers following.”

“We will,” the man said, “Be on your way.”

Anneke led out, Rachael falling in behind her. At the edge of the clearing, she glanced back briefly but the charcoal burner had returned to his work.

* * * *

Kamran’s raised hand halted the progress of his men and they already feared him enough to remain silent when his closed fist summoned the company non-coms to his side. He smiled at the purposeful shuffle that aligned each company facing outwards in a defensive ring. They were learning.

The company sergeants, formerly his best corporals, gathered around. “We’ve fallen in behind a group of smugglers, probably half our number.” None argued, his time with the mountain tribes had given him a legendary reputation as a tracker, even if he knew himself to be an amateur compared to the missing scouts. “They’re under an hour ahead of us and must be heading for a rendezvous to be traveling by day. Give me two of your best woodsmen each and follow the trail I mark. Enforce absolute noise discipline; remind your men how tough the smugglers will be if we don’t take them by surprise. They have captives. I’ve seen their tracks. Our quarry may be among them. Do you understand my instructions?”

Nods all round. He’d trained these men personally. Provided he made allowances for the raw material swept up by the levy, he could depend on them.

“Good. Go back, and select the two men I need, and be prepared to move out in sequence, ten yards separation. The lead company will deploy scouts and the last company a rear-guard. Keep the archers in between. I’ll use your men as a tail; keep station on the last one.” He could depend on them not losing the trail in this type of country. He had to keep visual contact through a line of men between him and the lead company.

An hour later, he’d closed up within a hundred yards of the smugglers and caught glimpses of the captives. Hooded, linked by rope in a crude coffle, wrists bound in front of them, there were eight, possibly nine. Two were tall enough to be Red, but the hoods hid their hair and the rear-guard group of smugglers obscured their footprints wherever possible. The whole group bunched up as if they were about to leave the forest trail, probably to some nearby rendezvous, and their scouts were active.

Time to halt his men.

The first link in his chain of men watched from the concealment of a large bush and Kamran used hand signals to halt and laager the companies, ending with two fingers in front of his eyes and the circling of his right index finger. The first linking man signaled his understanding and sank to his haunches, waiting for the next man in the chain to join him and pass the instructions back along the line. He’d wait in concealment while Kamran reconnoitered the situation.

Satisfied with his arrangements, he moved forward cautiously. He still heard the mutter of voices, their noise discipline was atrocious, and it seemed to peak, suggesting someone was passing orders the rest felt compelled to discuss. A good indication they’d reached their turnoff. A dozen more yards and he could see them.

A handful of men created a false trail beyond the turnoff, suggesting they’d leave watchers, perhaps even an ambush for a small party, while a dozen others concealed all evidence of the main party’s diversion to the north. Kamran sank to the ground, disappearing into a stand of tall grass flourishing in the dappled light from a gap in the canopy high above him. A small gap created by a straggling stand of saplings at its edge gave him a clear view of the area.

He watched the two groups finish their tasks and fade into the forest. The rendezvous had to be a cave because the ground rose steeply a hundred yards back on that side with the tree line visible through gaps in the trees. He’d not heard of it before, but this area was off the beaten track. Now he must wait until the sentries grew tired, or betrayed themselves with movement. He must know where they hid before making his next move.

The sound of a scuffle came clearly before a woman’s voice screamed in rage, making Kamran swear under his breath as the sound ended abruptly. There was no mistaking the tone of a High Born. Whoever she was, she just signed her own death warrant and that of every smuggler. The man behind him could not have missed the sound, nor failed to recognize it. Kamran was now committed to attacking the smugglers. If he didn’t, someone would be bound to talk when they returned and sign his death warrant.

Damn the High Born
.

They were all the same, the males enforced
droit du seigneur
on the peasant brides and the women took strong peasant men to their beds. In this case, one of them had been playing the role of a rustic, probably meeting her chosen peasant in a forest glade when she encountered the smugglers. Taken by surprise, bound and gagged with a thick stick jammed between her teeth before she could speak—smugglers knew how to keep their captives quiet on the move—she’d obviously worked it free and now she’d soon be dead. The smugglers knew the penalty for taking a High Born. They’d kill her quickly and hide the body.

Still, she wouldn’t have died entirely in vain all the sentries came out of hiding and stood on the trail, discussing the matter in hushed tones, aware that every one of them was living on borrowed time. They couldn’t hide the death of a High Born. There were too few of them.

Kamran waited until all the sentries returned to their posts and then slid backwards to his link man. “I’m going in to reconnoiter the camp. Pass the word back. As soon as I return, we’ll attack.”

“That was a High Born,” the man whispered, eyes round in amazement.

“I know,” Kamran said. “Repeat my instructions.”

“You’re going in to reconnoiter the smuggler’s camp and will lead the attack when you return.”

“Good. It’s our only chance to save her,” Kamran lied. “She’s still alive.”

The man nodded emphatically. He couldn’t imagine anyone killing a High Born. Peasant mothers still boasted their eldest sons came from the first night under
jus primae noctis,
the High Born’s right to the brides’ first night. Kamran watched him slide away to pass on the message and nodded grimly. He must keep everyone believing they could save the High Born. The least whisper of the truth and they’d all dance on air for not attacking immediately.

He waited until the man returned and nodded confirmation before slipping away to the right. He’d circle wide to the base of the slope and work his way toward where he thought the camp must be. The more he knew, the safer the attack would be.

His sword was a nuisance, so he shifted the belt until it lay down the middle of his back. If he had to use it, he’d fail.

Rachael woke groggily when Anneke returned. The Alliance agent had stepped off the trail quite abruptly and waved Rachael into the concealment of a thick stand of trees. “Wait here. I heard something. Rest if you can,” she said, and disappeared, leaving Rachael struggling to stay awake. She failed, for the angle of the shadows had changed significantly.

“We can go. They’ve passed.” Anneke seemed amused by something. “We have a little more time now. I’ve found us a good hidey hole and we’ll have an early night.”

Rachael nodded gratefully, her feet leaden as she followed Anneke away from the trail toward a monolith of rock thrust upwards through the forest floor to create an area clear of trees. Dense shrubbery surrounded its base, taking advantage of the light piercing the canopy and Anneke headed toward the thickest clump.

“Careful, it’s full of thorns. Lay down. I’ve cleared a tunnel by tying a branch out of the way with a vine.”

Rachael slid in through the tunnel and found herself beneath a jutting ledge of rock in an area the size of a double bed and high enough she could kneel upright. Thickly carpeted with pine needles, hedged all around with thorns, it was secure and well hidden. Anneke followed, thrusting their provisions before her and turning to lower the thorny branch like an impenetrable portcullis. Their dark clothing blended with the shadows, making them invisible to the outside world.

“This is great,” Rachael said. “I’m so damned tired.” She lay down, felt Anneke’s arms around her, and surrendered to sleep.

It was dark when she woke the first time and found they’d rolled over and she was lying half across Anneke, arms and legs entwined like lovers, her head pillowed on the girl’s shoulder. She felt warm and comfortable and sleep beckoned so she closed her eyes once more.

The dream began some time after this, impressions filtering into her mind so softly she was not aware of the transition until she seemed to open her eyes on a scene lit by flaring pine torches. Thirty men, arms bound, knelt before her on the sandy floor of a large cave open to the forest. Twice that number of men-at-arms guarded them. One man, apparently the leader of the captives, was protesting vehemently.

“There was no High Born, only those eight over there.” He nodded toward eight peasant women with torn clothes and bruised faces huddling together.

“I heard her. So did he.” It was the sergeant, although Rachael couldn’t see him, just an arm pointing at one of the men-at-arms.

“There was no High Born,” the captive repeated stubbornly, but Rachael sensed he was lying.

“Hang them.” The sergeant’s order sounded harsh, his tone remorseless. “We’re wasting time here.”