The Narrow Path To War

by D L Frizzell

  As soon as they caught their breath, the duster sped into the blaze. Kate squeezed Alex tightly as flames licked through the gaps in the duster’s folds. Alex had never felt such heat before, thinking for certain they were burning already. There was nothing he could do but hold on to Kate and hope for the best as they slid down the burning bridge.

  It was their speed that saved them. They emerged from the lower edge of the flames seconds later with smoke pouring off of them and flames just finding their way onto the edges of the duster. When Alex sensed they were in the clear, he yanked against the seams and tore the zipper loose. The air around them cooled instantly and Alex could see blue sky again. He felt the bridge sliding rapidly underneath, and knew the duster was still coated with sap. Further down the slope, he could hear shouts from the rest of the team. He couldn't make out what they were saying - he could only tell they were approaching quickly.

  Alex felt a tug against his back, and his weight shifted into the duster’s shoulders. Moments later, it happened again. Friction. The tugs became more intense and frequent. It was what he’d hoped for. As he and Kate continued to slide down the bridge, the jarring became more pronounced, and their speed decreased. Alex moved his arms back into the sleeves to prevent slipping out of the duster, then held Kate close.

  One of the approaching voices was very near. Alex could not tell who it was, but the voice said, "I got 'em!"

  With that, Alex and Kate came to a sudden stop when they collided with a pair of boots.

  The next thing Alex saw was the colonel’s soot-covered face looking down at them.

  “I'm glad to see you two are okay,” the colonel smiled.

  Alex unfolded the duster and leaned up on his elbows. He and Kate were still coated with sap, but unburned. The duster had not fared as well. It smoldered, with holes where the fire had burned through the seams. There were deep gouges in the leather, and the zipper was broken apart. He put his hands on Kate’s waist and shook her.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “We made it.”

  Kate rolled off Alex and slipped when she tried to sit up.

  "Hang on, young lady," Seneca said. "We need to get you cleaned up first."

  "How long until the fire goes out?" Alex asked, looking at the blaze.

  "It'll be at the top in another fifteen minutes or so," Seneca said.

  "We'd better move fast, then," Alex said, and took off his boots.

  Alex touched the surface of the bridge and found it to be sticky. "Nice," he said, and stood up. He took a few steps in his socks and had difficulty pulling away from the burned residue. "That's better than the alternative," he said to Brady.

  "You got that right," Brady replied.

  "Those Jugs thought they could give us the slip," Sturm laughed, then felt awkward when he was the only one that thought his joke was funny.

  "You were right about the sap layer being thin," Seneca told Alex. "The fire only lasts about a minute in any one spot."

  “This belongs to you, Sergeant Brady,” Alex said, picking up the smoldering duster. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

  Brady took the duster and looked it over. He frowned at the holes, the burns, and the scarred folds in the back. “Total loss,” he sighed, and threw it over the edge of the bridge. He watched sadly as it fell out of sight. Sturm chuckled.

  “Looks like you had plenty of room to spare,” Seneca told Alex. “I figured you wouldn’t slow down at all.”

  Alex looked at the bridge and saw they were less than five meters away from the drop-off at the end. He shuddered. “It was a gamble,” he admitted. “I remembered Private Strapp telling me that unrefined sap leaves a sticky mess behind when it’s burned. I was hoping it would be sticky enough to give us some traction.”

  “It certainly is,” Seneca said. “And it burns dirty, too.” He looked at the smoke circulating up the mountainside. “I’d say we have a good shot at turning the tables here, Deputy. You feel up to joining us in the fight?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Alex said. “I'd like a drink of water first, though, and a change of clothes.”

  “You’ve got five minutes,” Seneca told him. “We’re moving up the bridge before the fire reaches the top. I’ve got a surprise in mind for our jug friends,” he smiled.

  "I still have Sarah's clothes," Kate said. "I will put them on." She pulled her goggles down to her neck but kept her sap-soaked hood up.

  "This time, Kate," Alex told her, "you are staying here."

  "Yes, Alex Deputy Vonn."

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Daigre was furious. In his haste to turn the Plainsmen back, he had instead given them the key to advance on his position unseen. They could now come up anywhere they wished, and Daigre did not like being on the defensive. But his struggle against more than the Plainsmen, wasn’t it? Rannuk, who now acted like more than an overseer, was giving orders without consulting Daigre first. Rannuk did not order retreat. Instead, he ordered the other Jugs to spread out along the whole plateau, passing instructions that they should yell out when the soldiers were spotted. Daigre acknowledged that this was the best response under the circumstances. He would have given the same order after some thought. Rannuk knew to do this instinctively. No, not by instinct. By training. This was the response of an educated mind. A military mind. Even the most accomplished of Jugguards could organize little more than a hunting party, yet, the man with bloodshot eyes had the air of a general. If, in the end, Rannuk ordered the other Jugs to kill Daigre to accomplish whatever scheme he had already planned…and he did seem to have a plan…well, his head would be the first to come off.

  Daigre’s desire for an honorable fight would be granted after all, but he would not participate. He moved up to a ledge at the southern end of the plateau where the air was clearer. From his vantage point, he could see movement in the smoke and knew the Jugs were doing exactly what Rannuk told them to. His walking stick already strapped to the sash around his waist, Daigre adjusted the quiver of arrows on his back. The small travel pack, the one that contained Norio's scroll, sat secure within a reinforced pocket. In the end, that's all he would need to make his mission a success. As for the Plainsmen and the Jugs, their journey could end together as far as Daigre was concerned.

  He looked to the nearby crevice where steps led up to the entrance of the Narrow. No man could keep him from returning to his homeland. Something, though. Something would be left behind. Raising his hood, Daigre smeared himself from head to foot with the ashes from a Jug campfire. Covered with soot, providentially the same color as the cliff face behind him, he waited just a bit longer. It was not necessary, or even advisable, but he would stay to observe the fight.

  On the Sentinel Bridge, the pursuit team followed the trailing edge of the fire, keeping their distance to prevent the explosives in their backpacks from overheating. Seneca was glad to see the wind still obscured the plateau. “The fire is starting to burn out,” he said in a low voice to his team. “Now we make our move.”

  “I have more party favors here,” Gurnig said as he hustled up the bridge to join them. "Everybody grab some."

  After they all loaded their pockets with explosives, they moved single-file toward the northern corner of the plateau.

  "Everybody, holster your pistols and shoulder your rifles," Seneca ordered. "Use swords if they find us in the smoke."

  "Spot and Leeds are ready, sir," Traore said. They looked down and saw the two kneeling behind the outcropping, their Longarms resting on the top of the rock.

  Alex saw an opening in the fire and pointed it out to Seneca.

  Seneca nodded. "Remember, stay close," he whispered. "Otherwise we'll lose each other." He pulled his necker up to cover his nose, as did the rest. He turned to the riflemen below, held up ten fingers, then gave a circular motion with his index finger.

  Alex knew what the hand signal meant. They would have ten seconds to get in unnoticed and escape the line of fire. Colonel Seneca crouched and ran through the gaps in the
flame, followed quickly by Brady, Traore, Gurnig, and Sturm. Alex brought up the rear. They hustled into the smoke, making no sounds as they rushed over the grassy plateau.

  Alex remembered how hard it was to see in the smoke earlier and was surprised that the others ran so quickly into the black cloud. When the first rifle shot rang out from the outcropping and ricocheted off the northern cliff’s face overhead, he understood why. The closer the riflemen fired at their advancing position, the less likely the Jugs would be to think that's where they were. Bullets pinged off the cliff ahead, some buzzing up, and others impacting on the ground with a very uncomfortable closeness.

  Seconds after the first bullets hit, Alex heard voices respond in alarm. Heavy footsteps thumped across the grass in the other direction. He glanced to the right when he saw movement, and saw a shaggy outline headed the other direction with his parlo blade out. If the man looked over his shoulder just once, his head would have to come off. He didn’t look, though, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief.

  When Alex looked forward again, Sturm was nowhere to be seen. He cursed under his breath and slowed down. Disoriented, with nothing to measure distance by, he groped through the darkness in front of him with no idea how far away the cliff face was. When a stray bullet impacted above and to the left, he got his bearings again. He veered left and slowed to a walk, keeping his hands in front of him, and soon found the cliff wall.

  Alex squinted to reduce the smoke getting into his eyes and felt his way along the wall. Ten long seconds later, he bumped into an arm next to him. Seeing the wide-brimmed hat on the figure, he whispered, "Hey."

  "What took you so long?" the voice whispered back. It was Gurnig.

  "Almost ran into a Jug back there."

  "We all saw him. Now watch where you're going," Gurnig admonished under his breath. "The rest are already climbing." he pointed up the cliff. Alex could see boots disappearing into the smoke overhead.

  "Got it," Alex said. He examined the rock face and moved back a few paces to the left. "See you at the top," he whispered.

  Alex felt like he was back in his element for the first time since leaving Celestial City. He found some easy handholds on the rock face that gave a quick path upward. As he scaled the cliff, he found the air getting clearer. Handholds became easier to find and he reached fresh air in a few moments. He looked down behind him and saw the Jugs flailing about in the smoke. On the outcropping below the plateau, he could just make out the figures of Wyler and Leeds, not hitting much but keeping their attention. A few Jugs tried climbing down the boulders to attack them but died far short of their goal. Alex couldn't see any evidence of the Jovian on the plateau, though he suspected the garden keeper was smart enough to stay out of the fray.

  Alex climbed onto the ridge above the cliff and ran up to meet Seneca, who was just getting up onto the ledge. "What took you so long?" Alex asked.

  "Help me up," Seneca said, out of breath but not so badly to disguise his annoyance. Alex pulled him up, and then helped the others. When Gurnig appeared, he looked at Alex and shook his head.

  "I thought I heard a smart-ass remark up here," he said.

  Alex smiled and offered him a hand. Once they were all on the ridge, Seneca led them around the cliff above the plateau. A group of three-meter spherical boulders sat on a downward slope, held in place by a handful of notches in the bedrock.

  "Looks like about twenty boulders, sir," Brady said.

  "That'll do," Seneca said. He paced around the boulders to check them. Moss grew along moist areas between them, but the bedrock was firm. None of the granite monstrosities would have any difficulty rolling. "Place two charges each around these edges," he ordered, pointing at the jutting rocks holding the boulders in place. "Set the timers for a twenty second delay. Put another two behind the last few, just to give them a little extra kick. Those timers need to go off three seconds after the first ones."

  "Yes, sir," Brady said, and directed Sturm and Gurnig where to place their explosives.

  Seneca took the rest of the team behind a wide crag where they could take cover. “We'll toss a few on top of the pile after the first charges go off, but only if we need to. Remember, we still need to collapse the canyon."

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Daigre was frustrated with the battle. The only visible Plainsmen were the two riflemen firing from the safety of their outcropping. They were only marginally effective, hitting only the Jugs who left the safety of the plateau. All the other shots impacted against the cliff wall at the back of the plateau, far too high to be of any concern. What bothered Daigre was that he could not see the other plainsman soldiers. The smoke was still too heavy to reveal the details of the fight, but there was the distinct sound of swords clashing nearby.

  Daigre spotted a pair of men fighting and leaned in closer to see who would win. It turned out to be two Jugs fighting each other. What was the ancient saying? He asked himself. With friends like these, who needs enemies?

  Several loud explosions sounded in quick succession, their shockwaves knocking everybody to their knees. Looking around to find the source, Daigre recalled that the Plainsmen had used explosives on the bridge. He hadn't expected them to use them in the smoke. That exceeded the stupidity of even the Jugs. It was when he noticed movement above the cliff that he recoiled in horror. A wave of boulders emerged from an expanding cloud of dust on the ridge above the plateau. They moved slowly at first, and then quickly picked up speed until they bounced over the edge into the smoke below.

  Daigre cried out when he heard the impact of boulders against bedrock, followed immediately by screams. The Jugs did not see the boulders coming, and many were crushed immediately. One of the boulders shattered when it hit the plateau, knocking several jugs to the ground. As one survivor tried to stand, a boulder landed directly on him. More boulders fell in unison. They deflected off each other and rolled different directions, causing panic on the plateau. The two Jugs that Daigre had seen fighting moments earlier gave up on their duel and turned to run. One of them escaped, while the other was crushed. The remainder of the Jugs charged off the plateau onto the boulders below and kept running. The two riflemen could not shoot fast enough to take them all down, but the Jugs were no longer interested in the Plainsmen. Instead of attacking the riflemen on the outcropping, they continued to flee down the boulders until they were out of sight.

  Daigre stared in shock. The last of the boulders fell and finally rolled to a stop on the plateau. As the wails of dying Jugs carried through the smoke, Daigre stood up. This is not what victory felt like.

  The breeze picked up, brushing away the smoke and the last whimpers of the dying. Daigre waited, had to see for himself, but already knew how high the cost had been. Instead of green grass, now there was nothing but redness. On the plateau, on the boulders, pooling beneath the crushed cherry tree. Yet, other than the Jugguards’ fur outfits, which seemed strangely empty and wet, Daigre was alone. He could not look away. “In my arrogance, I brought this on myself,” he muttered.

  The pursuit team had watched the gruesome scene play out from their vantage point overhead. Affected as deeply by the carnage as Daigre was below, the team sat on the moss and looked at the ground before them. Only Seneca kept his eyes forward, and only then until he confirmed that Leeds and Wyler were okay. Seneca returned a grim wave to them as they made their way to the bridge, and then to the plateau.

  "Is this what war is like?" Alex asked.

  Seneca sat down next to him. "This day was always coming," he replied "It was just a question of how widespread the destruction would be. Today, we confined to this little plateau."

  Alex took little comfort in the thought.

  “Movement below!” Brady hissed, and pointed toward the cliff face at the south end of the plateau.

  “I don’t see anything,” Seneca said, crouching down to lower his profile against the sky.

  “I do.” Alex immediately recognized the black, hooded figure moving toward a crevice in th
e corner of the cliff wall. A wooden stick riding on his hip, he could only be one person. “Colonel," he said. "We have one more person to deal with."

  Seneca looked where Alex pointed. Below, the Jovian paused to look up at them, and then disappeared into the crevice.

  “Move, people!” Seneca shouted. “Head across the top of the cliff and look for a way down into the Narrow,” Seneca ordered. “He's making a run for home. We cannot allow that.”

  "Got it, sir," Brady said, and ran the team towards the towering Plutonic Ridge. Seneca made some hand signals to the riflemen below and got a quick acknowledgment. They would go to the crevice to make sure the Jovian didn't double-back on them.

  Alex and Seneca ran to catch up with the rest of the squad.

  It was several minutes before they found a way down from the ridge into the Narrow.

  "Looks like he's already gone," Brady said as Wyler and Leeds came in from the plateau.

  Alex examined the Narrow as it wound through the massive crack in the Plutonic Ridge. Some parts of the mountainside leaned perilously over the canyon, threatening to collapse at any moment. Other walls went straight up, reaching up to dizzying heights overhead. For a geologic formation that had been around for thousands of years, he was surprised it hadn’t fallen in on itself long ago. With all the rock leaning precariously about, though, the ground was surprisingly flat.

  “It’s paved all the way through to the other side,” Seneca reminded them. “He'll be moving pretty fast."

  “Compliments of the Founders," Traore added.

  “I’ll take care of the Jovian,” Alex volunteered. He pulled his pistol out to make sure it was loaded. He checked that his falcata rested securely in its sheath. When he saw Seneca’s doubt, he added, “I’m a runner, remember?”

  Seneca agonized for several seconds before finally nodding his head. “Catch him or not,” he said, “we’re bringing this canyon down. We'll setting charges at the halfway point. I'll give you an hour before we set them off."