Empire's Edge (Path of Light Book 2)

by N. A. Oberheide

  “So, give me the abridged version here. How did this go down?”

  Rahlo shifted uncomfortably. The creaky wooden chair bit into his back, so he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. Big Boss cocked an eyebrow but didn’t admonish his underling like was usual for bad manners at his table.

  “So, the operation was a success…initially. We found evidence of their arms shipments. We don’t know where exactly it was heading. We couldn’t interrogate anyone because…well…we were ambushed.”

  “By who?”

  “I dunno. They were heavily armed and got the drop on us. I ain’t sure, but I think I was the only one of the party that made it out alive.”

  “How do you know he’s still alive?”

  “I’m not positive, but I saw them out of the forest I retreated into. They didn’t shoot him, no sir not at all. In fact one of ‘em hugged the guy!”

  Big Boss grunted, then gave a look for him to continue.

  “That’s really it. I had to beat my horse like it owed me money to get outta there!”

  “I see. This is a most unfortunate turn of events. You do realize that I can’t authorize the necessary manpower needed for this without going up the chain, right?”

  “Up to who?”

  “The president himself…Defyrson Javys.”

  Rahlo had never met the man, and the thought of besetting such a failure at the feet of the most powerful man in the Confederacy made him wince. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple.

  “I don’t see why he would have an issue with this though. We are his eyes and ears on the ground. You aren’t the first to fuck up. Nor will you be the last.”

  Big Boss seldom if ever cursed, and if he did it was a sure sign the usually stoic man was getting emotional. Rahlo took a deep breath and tried not to let it bother him.

  “I will make this up to you.”

  Instead of responding, the Boss clapped his hands twice. Within seconds the old doorman was standing in the threshold, as weathered as he was eager.

  “Send a message to the president. Our bounty has escaped. Request authorization for Operation Red Dawn. Urgent priority. Over and out.”

  With that, they were alone again, hearing nothing but the front door slamming shut a few seconds later. Rahlo couldn’t stand the uncomfortable silence.

  “What if he says no?”

  After he was done tapping out his pipe, Big Boss bore his dark and deeply set eyes into him.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Well, actually…” Rahlo stopped, realized he was about to fall into a trap. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

  An almost imperceptible smirk was visible under the bushy, steel grey mustache. The test had been passed, at least so far.

  “Are you also aware of what happened at Volshuy Castle after you left?”

  “Um…no, what happened?” Rahlo’s heart skipped a beat.

  “The entire garrison was waylaid, stripped clean of damn near everything that wasn’t bolted down!” The rising volume choked out the room even more than the smoke did.

  “By who?” Now Rahlo wasn’t lying.

  “We don’t know exactly. If we had to guess, it would be a local militia of some sort. Only one of our men escaped. Know who that was?”

  “Me?”

  “Mhm.”

  “So…are they okay?”

  “One was killed, at least that we know of. The others were blindfolded, loaded into a cart, and dumped off deep into the wilderness. Only a few managed to make it back to us. I ain’t got time for this shit, yet here we are. Bad luck seems to be following you around, now ain’t it?”

  “Yes…well I do apologize but I will fix this as best I can!”

  “I can only hope, because this is your last chance. We can’t win a war being fractured like this. We are so close, yet now so far. I expect the authorization to come back very soon. Do you know what that will mean?”

  “Find him and bring him back dead or alive.”

  Big Boss cocked his eyebrow. Something was missing from that statement.

  “By any and all means necessary.”

  “Exactly.” The Boss stood up, and loudly cracked his knotty, calloused knuckles. “I expect the authorization shortly. For now, come with me.”

  This was secretly a relief to Rahlo, who was getting very sore from the uncomfortable, straight backed chair that looked older than Gammy. They walked back outside, a very welcome breath of fresh air indeed. The world out here seemed so normal, yet Rahlo could not be a part of that. He made his bed, and now he had to lay in it. The civilian life was a distant dream right now. They walked down the street for several minutes, eventually coming to a boxy wooden building. The freshly painted sign read ‘Telegraph Service Station’ in bold black letters. Big Boss knocked on the door. The elder doorman answered it. Rahlo had never been in here before. The first thing he heard was rapid ticking and tapping.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “It’s about damn time we found a place to stretch our legs and get a drink!”

  It hardly needed to be said yet hearing someone blurt out a shared sentiment was comforting after a long, hard day of riding. Saddle soreness had been an unwelcome companion for quite some time, a sentiment the company shared as they hitched up their horses in front of the watering trough. A warm breeze swung a brightly painted sign above their heads: The Chug. Swinging the double doors open greeted them with the familiar smell of smoke, beer, and sweat. Three seats open at the bar top was a welcome sight, and soon they had settled in, but a single word and three fingers produced three pints of ale.

  “We don’t have to ride tomorrow, do we?”

  “No, I think we are safe here for now. I need to plan our next move.”

  “You couldn’t plan yer way outta wet burlap!”

  “Shut it, Gull! It’s a long ass walk home, better hope I don’t set out without you!”

  “Ye can leave me behind, but I’ll haunt ya to the end o’ time.”

  “I’m sure you would, you fucking lunatic.”

  “I sure didn’t invite myself out ‘ere!”

  “Hold on while I drink so I can forget about your ugly face for just a little while.”

  A laugh and some chugging went around. Trevin slyly scanned the room and over his shoulders every so often, an instinct entrenched over years of deep cover and infiltration work.

  “You look all tired son, been kind of quiet too.”

  “Yeah…just didn’t sleep good last night or something.”

  “Sounded like you were sleeping fine. Hell, you were blabbering in your sleep about nonsense!”

  “Like what?” Naurus hid his discomfort with a long, slow swig.

  “I barely paid attention, but at one point you were babbling on about a ‘run to the sun’ or some such.”

  “Oh…yeah…hah that’s weird.”

  Naurus knew his father wasn’t buying such a nonchalant brush off. He waited until the rotund barkeep waddled off after refilling their pints.

  “Tell me more. I know there’s more to it than that.” Trevin said with the piercing gaze of knowing he was on to something.

  “Well, it’s just weird dreams. Some figure haunts me in my sleep lately. I can’t see the face, can’t approach it either. Just someone wrapped up in a cloak. The voice is so…familiar yet so strange at the same time. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  “Hmm.” Trevin took a sip. “Almost sounds like Recht but knowing him he would just show up personally. He isn’t much for scrying or divinations. He hardly needs to hide himself from us. On the other hand, someone is targeting you. Does this figure seem to know you?”

  “Yes…it knew about you saving me from the Regulators and—”

  “A curse! Yer cursed, I tell ya!”

  “Gully if you were any denser, light would bend around you. Shut your face, dotard. Now go on.”

  Gully’s valuable insight taken into consideration, Naurus took a gulp and continued. “So yeah it knows
me…knows my situation somehow.”

  “Any discernable accent?”

  “No not really.”

  “So what’s this about the sun?”

  Naurus paused, and took a deep breath trying to figure out how to explain in a way that made sense.

  “The figure simply told me to run to the sun, and don’t stop until I hit the sea.”

  “Interesting, sounds like whoever it is wants you to be in a particular place at a particular time.”

  “Yeah well, it’s sketching me out.”

  “Did the figure give any more specific directions or a time even?”

  “Nope.”

  “I have a feeling this isn’t the last you’ll see of the figure. I’ll try to pay more attention to what you are saying next time if I don’t sleep through it.”

  With that, Trevin pulled out a corncob pipe and started loading it up with some sort of thick, brown plant matter.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “From that castle you were stuck at, my boy. They had lots of goodies in there, this stuff sure is nice and sweet.”

  He sparked a match and lit it up, puffing gregariously before passing the pipe over. It certainly was sweeter and smoother than anything else he’d tried. The pipe was then passed to Gully, who gleefully inhaled his lungs full, holding it so long all that was left to exhale was a barely perceptible mist.

  “By all the divines, Gull, you’re still an animal to this day.”

  “They don’t call it ghostin’ for nothin’! Say, what is this shit called anyways?”

  “Tobacco…don’t remember it?”

  “Been so damn long I forgot how good this shit was!”

  Nobody could argue that, as before long the pipe was full of nothing save for silvery ashes and the party was all a few pints deep. It had become noticeably dimmer inside with the setting of the sun yet now even stuffier as the locals and travelers alike streamed in for the night’s libations.

  “Hey barkeep! How much for the night?”

  “Come again?” The fat, bald man leaned over the granite bar.

  “How much for all us to stay for the night?”

  “Oh can’t help you there, friend. We have no rooms, but they do at the inn across the street!”

  The man waddled off, called by a rowdy group of patrons. Trevin dug around in his pocket, pulling out a crumpled-up wad of paper bills and looked at them with confusion.

  “Here dad, let me see that.” Naurus took the money, pulled off a few bills, and laid it down. “That should do it, let’s go!”

  “I hate this place, who doesn’t use coins?!” Trevin lamented when they were outside.

  “A buncha backward savages, that’s who!” Gully responded, forgetting how loud he was.

  Thankfully they made it across the street without incident, and Naurus decided to be the cash handler from here on out. He couldn’t remember the last time something befuddled his father so.

  As Above…

  He didn’t like the tension one bit. It wasn’t the pleasant kind of tension such as anxiously awaiting good news or a gift on one’s cake day. This was the tension that results from over analysis, confusion, and plain fear.

  “So…why don’t we get a map?”

  “Pray tell, where from?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s ask someone?”

  “I’m trying to keep a very, very low profile. Nobody who is native to this land asks for a damn map! People have already commented on our accents…well at least you two. I can hide mine quite well when need be.”

  Gully and Naurus glanced at each other, as if about to argue as to who was more at fault but then they realized all the same that there was no use fighting reality at this point.

  “I hate to tell you this guys, but I don’t really know where we are.”

  Naurus knew his father was rarely one to mince words, but the conviction in his voice was deeply unsettling. The only comfort they had right now was the corner booth they were huddled into, far away from anyone else in the sparsely populated dining room of the inn.

  “I think I know where to go!”

  “I bet you do, son. Let me guess—”

  “Follow the sun!”

  Trevin sighed, playing with a stale biscuit like a cat, batting it around.

  “Fine…fine. I wish we could just go back, but I have a feeling more than a few people are looking for us and coming right this way. We can’t just sit here. How much money do we have left?”

  Naurus flitted through the few bills.

  “Not enough.”

  “Figures. Well did that figure visit you again last night?”

  “Nope. It’s not consistently every night.”

  Trevin rubbed his eyes, thinking deeply yet having trouble focusing all the same.

  “Howdy! Y’all need anythin’ else!”

  The young waitress popped up out of seemingly nowhere, holding a steaming jug of coffee in one hand and a basket full of more stale biscuits in the other.

  “No, we’re fine. Thanks.”

  “Alrighty, just holler if ya need anythin’!”

  Trevin batted around the biscuit some more, waiting for her to get out of earshot.

  “God damnit these people are weird.” Gully blurted out, basically reading the minds of the table.

  “You can say that again. Well I’ve had my fill of this slop, lets go.” Trevin said, scooting out of the heavily graffitied wooden booth.

  They collected their packs from their room and went outside to their horses. Trevin was notably hesitant, scanning all around and staring at the sky as if it were falling.

  “Come on, dad.”

  “To the sun…to the sun…” He mumbled to no one in particular as he mounted up.

  They finally set off, following the direction where the sun would be setting in the evening. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief after they cleared the town limits, finally leaving the strange people of Asherton behind. Trevin, however, seemed to have difficulty dropping his guard and continued glancing around furtively well into the wilderness. This included glancing back at Naurus, who grew increasingly annoyed until he couldn’t bottle it up anymore.

  “Why do you keep looking back here? There’s no one and nothing here besides us!”

  “You just don’t get it son…you just don’t. You’re a dead man walking now, and so are we because we’re with you. I’m not as sharp and fast as I used to be. I’m old and fat now, long past the days where I could sniff out a man a mile away.”

  “Oh bullshit, you couldn’t smell a rat if it sat on yer face and farted up yer nose!”

  “Gully, you are god damn near senile. Your memory is about as sharp as a stick of butter. You don’t remember that one time—”

  “Oh here ya go, blowin’ smoke up yer own ass again!”

  “At least my hair looks better than that greasy mop!”

  Trevin smugly preened his short, fiery red hair, much to the chagrin of the target.

  “Yeah yeah…that’s the only thing you ever had goin’ fer you, Rooster!”

  “Rooster?” Naurus piped up, causing the belligerents to both look back at him.

  “It’s a long story. Gully’s jealous of my hair and calls me that, thinking it’s an offense!”

  Gully didn’t respond as Naurus laughed at the absurdity of it all. The rest of the day was peppered with many such exchanges, dotted with reminiscence about the good times and the bad. It certainly helped pass the time as they wound through dense coniferous forests and foothills, sometimes having no path to follow but the guidance of the sun above as it raced them to the horizon. Naurus was hoping that they would find another inn to stay in, but that hope was dashed as they crested a hill and looked down upon a vast expanse of forest with no civilization in sight.

  “Well so much for day one of that. I don’t see your little buddy here, son.”

  “It didn’t say to stop in the middle of some forest. It said to go all the way until you come to the sea.” />
  “Ah…right. Stupid me. Well this is as good a time as any, let’s get these tents set up before we lose all light.”

  And so they did, working in a harmony that only such a trio of men with a common goal could muster. A fire was set, salt meat and tubers were cooked, wine and spirits were had, and Naurus fought an intense itch from his wound which had progressively become worse as the night wore on. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how close he came to death, and how grateful he should be, yet he felt quite the ingrate. He wanted to blame his father for coming out here and forcing his hand. He wanted to blame his father for even allowing him to come out here in the first place.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “That’s all there is to it.”

  “So, what now?”

  “Now it’s up to you. You already know the rules. Dead or alive, by any means possible.”

  Rahlo took in a deep breath, enjoying the freedom from the stifling humidity and annoying noises from inside the telegraph station. The sun shone brightly, as if mocking the dark turn of events that had suddenly transpired. He certainly needed to be that bright to in the near future to save face and avert a harsh punishment.

  “So how many—”

  “The boys’re already on the way.” Big Boss cut him off, putting his dark leather hat back on. “The word is out, and soon it’ll be all up to you. I can’t help you much more than I have.”

  “I understand, sir. I’ll do my best to make this up. They have a head start but if they haven’t shown up here the only other way they could have gone is Asherton.”

  “Sounds ‘bout right. You got access to our storehouse, but I have a feeling they are even better off after y’all blew that train off the tracks.”

  “They don’t know the land like I do.” Rahlo said with the confidence of a native.

  “Very true. There’s hope yet. Come, lets at least get some of this shit dug out in the storehouse.”

  They walked back to the plain, nondescript building that was ever vigilantly answered by the elderly doorman who seemed to be everywhere he needed to be at exactly the right times. Sifting through barrels and crates of tackle, vittles, guns and ammunition helped enough time fly by to be surprised by another knock at the door.