The Rogue Retrieval (27 page)

He drew his sword, and signaled for the others to do likewise. The hilt felt good in his hands. He wouldn't mind having the crossbow as well. But it was tough to crank from horseback, making it the wrong weapon now. That was a point he'd have to make to the engineers—­if they got out of this mess alive. At the mouth of the canyon he spurred his horse so that he came out at a good clip. A harsh landscape greeted the end of the canyon: boulders and piles of dead trees that could hide dozens of enemies. He checked back over his shoulder for movement on the cliffs above the canyon's mouth. Nothing there, but that didn't mean they were clear.

And there was still the matter of a man catching on fire with no explanation. It was helpful, surely, but there was no proof it was
meant
to help them.
Wish I knew what that was about.

Kiara rode out, her saber at the ready. Thorisson was right on her six. For once, the infuriating calm was gone from his face. He looked haggard. Going through that with your hands bound would have been no picnic. Logan nearly felt sorry for him . . . but not quite. Mendez and Chaudri seemed hale, though Mendez was favoring one shoulder.

Logan brought his mount to a halt, ten yards from the canyon egress. “It almost looks—­”

A shrill whistle cut him off. Logan spun about, just in time to see five men with hooked spears emerge from the rocks. They wore brown-­and-­gray cloaks over ring mail. The pole weapons had a good reach and were specifically designed so that they could stab or pull a rider from a horse with equal ease.

Son of a bitch.

This was the sharp end of the stick—­literally—­and they'd ridden right into it. Two more swordsmen were climbing down behind them, cutting off any kind of retreat. Not that he'd consider riding back into that death trap.

“Logan, find a weak point,” Kiara ordered.

Logan made a quick circle, careful to keep out of range of the hooked spears. Every smuggler was armed and armored. None of them even blinked when he came near. They had the scarred, dead-­eyed look of veterans. He rode back to the group.

“Not sure I see one, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Suggestions?”

“We could engage them, but I don't like the reach of those spears,” Mendez said.

“Give me a weapon,” Thorisson whispered.

It reminded Logan that they'd stashed the firearms deep in the saddlebags. Kiara's orders. Seemed foolish now.

Kiara looked to Logan. A security question, so it was his call. Another fighter would be useful, he had to admit that. But only if he could be trusted. Which this Swedish bastard could not.

“Never going to happen,” Logan said.

The men with hooked spears approached warily. They were twenty yards out, closing the vise around them. No one spoke. The time for negotiations had ended.

“Let's use the horses,” Logan said. “Stick together, try to break through the line somewhere.” Knowing that they'd probably lose a ­couple of ­people, but what choice did they have?

As he readied himself, though, there came a noise from the cliffs, above and behind them.

“Watch the cliffs!” Logan hissed. Damn. If the archers showed up, that would be that.

Q
uinn drew his hood and stood on the cliffs above the canyon mouth. Rocks and gravel tumbled down the slope, and alerted Logan to his presence. The smugglers had every route covered, and they weren't screwing around. He maxed out the volume on his voice amplifier.

“Leave them be!” he shouted.

The smugglers hesitated, and looked up at him while his voice echoed down the canyon. He had to show them something. But the elemental projector was empty, and the microfan out of juice. He had nothing. The smugglers started to move again, and he knew he'd failed. That Logan and Kiara and Chaudri would die.
And I probably will, too.

The defeat was a weight that pressed on him. Something fought it, though. A part of his core that just wouldn't give in. It pushed away the despair. Welled up inside of him. His skin tingled all over. It felt alive, it felt wonderful.

Most of all, it felt powerful.

L
ogan stared up at the hooded figure. He held a bloody sword in his hand. That wouldn't be enough.

“Last warning,” the man thundered. A tempest of wind buffeted all around him, though he seemed not to feel it. He lifted his sword, blade up. “I have the powerrrrr!”

Blue lightning shot from the tip in four directions, sizzling and crackling in the air. They all flinched away from it: Kiara, the smugglers, everyone.

“A magic user,” Mendez whispered. “God help us!”

“
Gods
help us,” Chaudri muttered. But she couldn't stop staring at the man above.

Logan shook his head. He couldn't believe it. There was just no way.

Apparently the smugglers couldn't believe it, either. The two closest to them shared a look and backed away. The rest took off running. They melted into the rocks and were gone.

Logan waited until they were well out of earshot before he started laughing.

Kiara looked at him strangely.

“Logan, what the hell?” Mendez demanded.

Logan caught his breath. “Didn't you ever watch
He-­Man
as a kid?”

“Never heard of it,” Mendez said.

Of course he hadn't. He'd grown up in Cuba. “Chaudri?” Logan asked.

Chaudri just stared at him.

“Lieutenant?”

She shook her head. “
She-­Ra.
What's going on? Do you
know
him?”

“We both do,” Logan said. He cupped his hands and shouted, “Bradley, get your ass down here!”

“Who is this Bradley you speak of?” the voice shouted down. “He certainly sounds handsome.”

“I'll be damned,” Chaudri said. “It's Quinn!”

“Sorry I'm late,” Bradley said. He had that infectious grin on his face. “Did I miss anything?”

 

“I work on my poker face as much as anything. Magicians can't afford to be surprised.”

—­
A
RT OF
I
LLUSION,
M
AY 17

CHAPTER 24

HIDDEN THINGS

Q
uinn was surprised at how happy it made him to see them again. Logan, Chaudri. Even Kiara. Logan introduced their companion—­a Latino guy named Mendez—­who had the look of a soldier. Quinn offered him a friendly nod. Thorisson was there, too, with his horse lashed to Kiara's.

“Who's that?” Quinn asked.
And how did he get here?

“Prisoner of war,” Logan said. “Don't talk to him.”

Quinn might have said more, but Thorisson caught his eye and gave the tiniest shake of the head. It put him off. He felt like he should say something, but how in the hell would he explain it? They'd probably just hog-­tie him, too.

“Get down here, Bradley,” Kiara said. “We need to clear the area.”

He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I have to get my mule. It's stashed on the other side of the canyon.”

“Leave it.”

“Be there in a minute,” Quinn said. He ducked back from the precipice.

“Bradley!” she called.

He ignored her. He wasn't about to leave his mule tied up where it would starve, or be sniffed out by wild dogs. Strange as it was, he cared about it more than a little bit. Spend so much time talking politely to an animal, and you were bound to grow attached.

He found the mule where he'd stashed it, and rode down through the canyon of death they'd created. He tried not to look at the bodies. It was one thing during the heat of battle, but it was quite another thing now that the fighting was over.

I killed
­people
.

The fact that it was him or them didn't matter—­the corpse of the archer he'd burned was still smoldering. He nearly vomited when he ran past it. The rest of the way, he held his breath.

He rejoined Kiara and Chaudri on the other side. The lieutenant told him that Logan and Mendez were scouting farther down the trail, to make sure that there weren't any more smugglers.

“Please stop here,” Quinn told the mule. He patted its flank as he said it; the animal complied.

“Bradley's deigned to rejoin us,” Kiara said over the comm unit. She fixed him with a frown.

Quinn shrugged. It was all he could do not to look at Thorisson.

“We're half a click up,” Logan said. Quinn could hear him again; his comm unit must still have some charge left. “Can you ride to meet us?”

“On our way,” she said. “Bradley, I want a full debrief once we're out of these mountains.”

“Oh, I look forward to it,” he said. He had plenty of news, but hadn't yet decided how much to tell her. He'd figure that out when he got a good night's sleep. The day's exertions had taken a toll on him.

And now I know what Moric goes through, I guess.

She prodded Thorisson with the crossbow. “Let's go.” She glanced back at Quinn's mule. “I hope that thing can keep up.”

“You'd be surprised.”

They set out in front; Quinn fell in behind them, beside Chaudri.

“Sweet Gods, is that a Tioni mule?” she asked.

“It is. You really do know everything about this place, don't you?” Quinn patted its neck, feeling a twinge of fondness. Without the sure-­footed beast, he'd probably not have made it this far.

“I do my best,” Chaudri said. She rushed on. “I've read something about them, and I very much hope that you can confirm it. Is it true about the manners?”

“One hundred percent,” Quinn said.

“Ha, ha! I knew it.” Chaudri's grin wide, joyous. She looked like a kid opening a birthday present.

“So,” Quinn said. “I couldn't help but notice that you don't have Holt. What happened?”

“We met with him in Valteron City,” Chaudri said. “It was . . . well, it was quite an experience.”

“How was he?” he asked.

“In a word? Sublime.”

“I guess he didn't want to leave his new gig to come home, eh?”

“He declined the lieutenant's offer.”

God, would I have loved to be a fly on the wall for
that
meeting. Just to hear someone tell Kiara “no.”

Quinn couldn't ignore the underlying tension when Chaudri talked about him. Not just with the scholar, but with the lieutenant as well. She sat stiff-­backed on her mount, shoulders almost hunched. It was apparent the failed mission didn't sit well with her. And Chaudri, well, she was a mix of emotions. Half admiration and maybe half chagrin. Holt sure had a polarizing effect on ­people.

Logan and Mendez trotted into view, signaling the all clear. The mountains were dropping away behind them; only foothills remained. They must have reached the unofficial end of the smuggler's pass. That, or the smugglers had decided not to press them further.

The whole lightning-­sword display might have had something to do with that.

Felara's air temperature had dropped another ten degrees since they'd first come through the gateway. The cold forced them to make camp earlier in the already-­short day. Kiara consulted her map a few times, then directed Logan down a faded trail off the smuggler's road. They found a dilapidated log cabin; it looked to be a hundred years old—­and in Alissia, that meant
rough
.

“We'll camp here,” Kiara announced.

“Doesn't look like it'll offer much shelter,” Quinn said. Even so, he was grateful. He'd been dozing off in the saddle. The sleep was like a gravitational force, pulling his eyes downward. He wouldn't have lasted much longer.

“Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Bradley,” Kiara said. “You above all should know that.”

Logan kicked aside some old planks and pulled away some undergrowth. Beneath lay a pair of cellar doors in near-­perfect condition, and a numeric passcode lock. “This is one of our hidey-­holes,” he said. He ducked inside. Quinn heard a spark, and soon warm lantern light glowed from within.

Quinn tied his mule to a cleverly disguised hitching post. “Stay here, please. Try not to get eaten.”

He hurried down the steps to a room below, and was surprised to find it was quite a bit warmer than the Felaran outdoors. The cellar was also larger than Quinn's apartment back in Vegas. Five oil lanterns hung around the main room, which was twenty by twenty feet. They stashed Thorisson in a lockable storage closet so they wouldn't have to watch him. Quinn was still unsure whether or not he should mention knowing him.
How exactly am I supposed to bring that up?

Storage bins lined one wall, and Chaudri was already raiding these for food. There were medical supplies as well, so Kiara ordered Logan to sit down so that she could examine his back where the arrow had struck him. Chaudri, too. She'd already patched up Mendez's shoulder—­he'd wear the arm in a sling for a day or two.

Logan's armor had stopped the arrowhead, but left him a nasty welt the size of a golf ball. That reminded Quinn of his sword fight. He took a deep breath and unfastened the torso piece of his armor. His side was a mottled tapestry of black and blue. He touched it and gasped at how much it hurt. Next thing he knew, Kiara had him sitting right beside Logan in her makeshift infirmary.

“How many of these hidey-­holes does the company have?” Quinn asked.

“Not as many as we'd like,” Kiara said. “They're nervous about Alissians stumbling across one.”

“On a related note, don't punch the wrong code on that pad outside, unless you want to learn how serious they are about it,” Logan added.

“What's the correct code?”

“You don't have the clearance for it,” Kiara said.

He should have seen that coming. He didn't have the clearance for anything interesting.

“Noticed the blood on your sword,” Logan said softly.

“Yeah,” Quinn said.

“Not yours, is it?”

“Ah, no. I got into a fight. With someone older than twelve.”

Logan examined Quinn's bruise and winced. “Looks like it cost you. Just like I said it would.”

“I've gotten worse from you,” Quinn said. “Heck, I'm fairly certain I've
given
you worse.”

Logan smiled. “You and Mendez are going to get along just fine.” He leaned over to Kiara, whispering loud enough that Quinn could hear. “Check for head trauma.”

Q
uinn woke groggily to the unpleasant sensation of Logan shaking him awake. “What?”

“Jesus. I've been trying to wake you up for five minutes.”

“I'm tired.”

“So it appears. Lieutenant wants us to get a move on. You can sleep when we get back.”

Quinn groaned but forced himself to sit up. His whole body felt like it was made of lead. Kiara had wanted to question him after she patched up his wounds, but apparently he had fallen asleep as she talked.

Someone had thrown a blanket over him. Chaudri, probably. It didn't seem like Logan's style.

They left the hidey-­hole at dawn, all of them in heavier cloaks thanks to the cellar's wardrobe. Even Thorisson got an upgrade; it wouldn't do to transport the man this far only to have him freeze to death in the Felaran snows. These ran even deeper as they rode northwest; sometimes the horses were nearly up to their haunches in it. Having lived only in Tion and the Enclave's island—­so far as he knew, at least—­Quinn's mule had never really seen snow. It balked at the white stuff initially. A long conversation with lots of polite words followed. Nothing doing. Finally, he scooped up a handful and put it in his mouth while the mule watched. The mule tried it after that, and eventually was willing to walk in it.

If the others thought Quinn's dialogue with his mule was odd, they at least kept quiet about it.

It was a cold, quiet ride to the foothills. Kiara was grim, Logan and Mendez serious, and Chaudri just distant. Quiet.

The wyvern didn't seem to be around, thank the gods. But the Alissian wild dogs took to howling as it grew dark. The sound of it ran a shiver down his spine. Quinn reclaimed his bow and quiver. Having them tied to the saddle, right by his hand, offered at least a little comfort.

They also crossed a few deer-­like tracks in the snow, some of them fresh, but he felt no burning desire to hunt them. There would be other, less pressing opportunities to hunt someday, and they didn't need the food. Besides, he had enough blood on his hands to last a while. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.
I think I'm going to throw up again.

The lieutenant didn't let that bother her when she gave him full license to shoot Thorisson if he tried to escape.

Talk about an awkward situation.

Soon enough they were climbing the slope to the mouth of the gateway cave. Here Logan conferred briefly with Kiara, then went ahead with Mendez to secure the area.

“There's probably a bear hibernating right in front of the gateway,” Quinn said. “That's been our luck so far.”

“Personally I'd be more concerned about snow tigers,” Chaudri said. “They like caves, and they're incredibly territorial.”

“Wonderful,” Quinn said.

Logan came in over the comm units. “All clear, Lieutenant. Want us to try the gateway?”

“Not until we're all there,” she said.

Right, the gateway had been closed from the other side under some security protocol. Christ, what if it still was? Quinn didn't want to cool his heels in another hidey-­hole until Kiara figured things out. If it was blocked, then he was leaving and going back to the Enclave. He didn't care what they said. He pressed a palm against his armor's chest plate, felt the teardrop-­shaped amulet Moric had given him against his skin.

Even then, though, he hesitated at the thought. Going to the Enclave might finally put it on the company's map, and that was a risk he wasn't prepared to take. Not yet, at least. The longer he'd been in Alissia, the more it had become apparent that the company had a substantial presence here. The communications relays, the hidey-­holes, the carefully built false identities. He suspected that the company's presence wasn't quite as benevolent as they claimed.

They were just as much a threat to the Enclave as the magicians were to them.

He mulled this over while they made the last climb to the gateway cave.

“Bradley, take your saddlebags off the mule,” Kiara said.

“What for?”

“He's not allowed through the gateway. Or in the cave, technically speaking.”

“You're joking, right?” Quinn asked. They were well past company policy enforcement here.

“No fauna. Unless you want him going to the lab for study?”

“No, thanks,” Quinn said quickly. They'd probably do a brain autopsy or something.

He dismounted and started undoing the leather straps. He piled the saddlebags by the mouth of the cave while the others rode in. Then he unstrapped the saddle as well.

“Listen,” he said. “You can't come with me, where I'm going. But you saved my life, and I won't forget it.” He offered a few handfuls of grain, not the high-­performance stuff, but stout Alissian feed that the hidey-­hole had in dry storage. He patted the mule's flank. “Farewell, my friend.”

He picked up his saddlebags and marched into the cave. There it was. The gateway flickered between silver and gray, like a television without a signal. No way to tell if it was open or not. If it was, he had a long-­ass debrief waiting for him on the other side. He wasn't looking forward to that one. But there was coffee and maybe a hot shower, too. Those, he wouldn't mind so much.

“Got it all?” Kiara asked.

Quinn patted the saddlebags. “Right here,” he said.

“Good.” She turned to Mendez and jerked her head toward the cave's opening.