Shadow of the Knife

by Jane Fletcher

  The main room was in uproar. Wounded women lay on the floor. More medics were arriving by the minute as the word went out, and every woman gifted in the healer sense came to assist. Dr. Miller directed them like a field marshal while moving from body to body. Groans and the smell of blood filled the room.

  Ellen guided Mel to a spot as much out of the way as was possible amid the frenzy. “What happened?”

  The eyes Mel turned on her were focused on some distant horror. Her face was ashen, as if she was about to be sick. “We were ambushed.”

  “Where are all the rest?”

  “Dead.”

  *

  Valerie Bergstrom was still shaking an hour later. Although uninjured, she was the most traumatized of the Rangers. Ellen sat by her, holding her hand, but not knowing what to say to calm her down.

  “What’s going to happen now?” Valerie had asked the same question a dozen times.

  “Ranger command will sort it out.”

  “What will they do?”

  “I don’t know.” Ellen squeezed Valerie’s hand. “But I know they won’t let them get away with this.”

  The scene of chaos in the infirmary had calmed. Most auxiliary medics had been dismissed. Lieutenant Cohen, Town Mayor Patel, and anyone else of enough importance to demand entry had come and gone. Ellen had been left to ensure that as few others as possible were allowed to intrude. All the injured were being cared for in the sickroom next door, with pallets on the floor being used once the beds were full. Two bodies had been taken away for burial and four Rangers had so far been discharged to return to their barracks. Yet the numbers did not begin to add up.

  A full squadron was made up of thirty-four Rangers—a captain, a lieutenant, and four patrols, each of eight women, headed by a sergeant and a corporal. Nine Rangers had walked into town and a further four had been carried living from the cart. When added to the two who had not survived, that still left nineteen unaccounted for. Surely they could not all be dead.

  “They were waiting for us. They knew we were coming. At the river. They had set it up...blocked the road. They started shooting. Captain Aitkin...she...”

  “And you went to fucking pieces.” A harsh voice cut in.

  Ellen looked up. Mel was standing over them, sneering.

  Valerie looked terrified. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Someone else made you scream and cry like a baby?”

  “I...”

  Ellen glared at Mel. “You’re not helping her.”

  “Help? What she needs is a good kick up the ass, not someone to hold her hand.”

  “You can’t blame her. People react differently.”

  “Thank the Goddess everyone doesn’t react like her. Else we’d all be dead. Jay didn’t. She—” Abruptly, Mel’s face contorted and her eyes filled. “Jay. She...”

  Mel turned and all but ran from the room. Valerie meanwhile was gasping, hyperventilating. Her eyes rolled up, showing white. Ellen stood, about to get help, but it was already on the way. A healer arrived and placed her hand on Valerie’s forehead. Within seconds the rising hysteria had calmed. Valerie’s eyelids closed and her body slumped in her seat. The healer shook herself out of the light trance she had been in and looked at Ellen.

  “Are you a relative of hers?”

  “No, just a friend. But she does have relatives in town. Do you want me to fetch them?”

  “No need today. Though I imagine they’d like to be informed. She needs rest. We’ll keep her here tonight.”

  Ellen clamped her jaw and said nothing, wondering if Valerie’s mother would be able to stop fretting about Fran in the lockup long enough to even think about her other daughter.

  Another pallet was found for Valerie in the sickroom. Ellen helped carry her in and stayed to arrange the blanket. Even in sleep, Valerie looked weak and frightened. Ellen had seen Valerie tackle thugs, fires, and stampeding horses without turning a hair. She had admired her friend’s courage, and tried to emulate it. What had happened?

  Ellen looked around the sickroom. Most patients were unconscious, a state induced by the medics’ use of their psychic healer sense. However, two were awake, talking quietly at the other side of the room, and another patient was sitting up on her bed. The right side of the Ranger’s face was covered by bandages, yet Ellen was able to recognize Gill Adebeyo, Valerie’s patrol corporal.

  Ellen wandered over, hoping for some answers. “How are you doing? Is your face okay?”

  “I’m not going to be any prettier than I was before. Just as well that I wasn’t vain about my looks. But my leg is the main problem.” Even through the blankets, the bandaging and splint were obvious.

  “Is it badly damaged?”

  “Don’t know if I’ll walk on it again.” For a moment Gill’s expression wavered. “Apart from that, I’m fine.”

  “Oh...I’m sorry.”

  The half of Gill’s face that twisted in a grimace looked like a failed attempt at a smile. “To be honest, I’m lucky to be alive. Too many aren’t.”

  Ellen moved closer to the bed. “What happened? Do you mind talking about it?”

  “We walked into an ambush. Off to the southeast, on the road down to Jensdock. You know the place where the road fords a river? You come out of the forest and there’s a cliff face on the opposite bank. Once you’re across the ford, you have to go about fifty meters downstream, and then the road climbs up through a gully.”

  Ellen nodded, recognizing the description of the spot, about eight kilometers outside Roadsend. “It’s the ford on Red Gorge Creek.”

  “Right. We crossed the river, rode into the gully, and found a cart had been upturned, blocking the path. And then archers on the top of the cliffs started shooting down at us.” Gill looked sickened. “They picked their targets. Aitkin and Green were the first to drop. Sergeant Bertram called to retreat. At the time, it sounded like a good idea, but when we got back to the river, more of the gang were there. They’d used another wagon to block the road behind us on the other bank. More archers were hidden in the trees, and they started shooting as well.”

  “How many do you think there were?”

  Gill pursed her lips, thoughtfully. “Over a dozen easily. Maybe as many as thirty all told. A couple of the sergeants started shouting conflicting orders, and we all milled around on the horses, getting shot, wondering which one to obey. Bertram got a bunch of her girls to charge the wagon, but only two got as far as reaching it. Some of the girls were riding up and down the riverbank, but with cliffs on one side and trees the other, there was nowhere for the horses to get out.” Gill’s expression changed to one of disgust. “I admit. I panicked. It was like a white light burning in my head and apart from that, my mind was empty. And that’s when Mel stepped in.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Started shouting orders, but differently to what had gone before. It was like she knew what was going on. She beat and bullied a group to dismount and take shelter behind some rocks on the riverbank. I was about to join her when an arrow got my horse. It went over and my leg was trapped under it.” Gill indicated the bandage on her face. “Nasty sharp rocks there. One of them sliced my face open when I fell. I guess I’m lucky it didn’t take my eye.” She shrugged. “I managed to get out from under the horse, but my leg was a total mess. I couldn’t walk so Mel picked me up and carried me to cover. She got about half the squadron there, but it was only a short-term solution. We were pinned down. We couldn’t get out on horseback, and we couldn’t hope to outrun them on foot—certainly not me in the state I was in. So Mel said to take to the river.”

  “The river?” Ellen searched her knowledge of area. Red Gorge Creek was fast flowing, but free of rapids and waterfalls. “You’d have been about two kilometers upriver of Kells hamlet.”

  “Yes. Not a tough swim with the current, although me and some of the others needed help. The only problem was, once we were in the water, we’d be sitting targets. If the archers came out of the woods, they
’d be able to stand on the banks and pick us off as we floated by. So Jay said she’d stay behind. She was the best shot in the patrol. We left her with her bow and all the arrows and we dived in the water.” Gill swallowed. “Actually, I didn’t do much diving. Mel carried me again, and then went back for Sue and Raj. They were in an even worse state than me. The current took us to Kells, where we borrowed the cart.”

  “And Jay?”

  “We heard her bowstring going as we swam off. We hoped that once we were away, she’d be able to jump in and follow us. We waited in Kells for her, but...”

  “Shit.” Ellen stared down at her hands.

  “So. As I said, I’m just pleased to be alive. I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Mel and Jay. And Jay is the...” Gill chewed on her lip, as if fighting back tears.

  “Jay may be okay. Lieutenant Cohen is organizing a party, with carts and healers. We’re going to pick up any wounded that are left there. We’re setting off at twelve o’clock. They can’t all be dead.” Ellen forced a confident expression onto her face. “And for every Ranger who is, I promise, we’ll make them pay.”

  *

  The overturned wagon was still in place, blocking the road. Ellen helped right it and push it aside, into the undergrowth. The volunteers in the rescue party now had an unrestricted view of the carnage.

  For a long time nobody spoke, although Ellen heard the sound of someone behind her throwing up. On either side of the river was a broad expanse of sand and shingle, dotted with green-clad bodies. The nearest was only a couple of meters away. One arrow protruded from the Ranger’s stomach and another from her shoulder. Both injuries looked serious, but neither was guaranteed to be fatal. However, the cut throat was. The wound gaped obscenely, deep enough to half sever her head, lined with raw red flesh.

  Stunned, Ellen tottered down the road and waded the knee-high ford, to the far bank in the shadow of the cliff. This was where the greatest concentration of bodies lay, most bristling with arrows, all with their throats slit open. She went from face to face, matching them to her memories of the Three Barrels Tavern, when they had been laughing and singing. Others in the party spread out across the scene of the massacre with halting footsteps and whispered oaths.

  “No.” The first loud voice.

  Ellen turned. Mel Ellis stood by a pile of boulders, looking down at the water’s edge. Ellen hurried to her side, already knowing what she would see. The sand around the boulders was pockmarked with footprints. Presumably this was where Mel had gotten the Rangers to take cover, downriver of the shallow ford. It was also where Jay had made her stand, stopping the gang from leaving the cover of the woods opposite.

  Jay Takeda lay curled on her side, as if in sleep, but her legs were in the water and the sand under her was pooled with red. Mel slithered down the bank, falling to her knees beside her friend. Gently she rolled Jay onto her back and cradled her head. No arrows were lodged in Jay’s body, but the uniform over her stomach was sliced through and soaked with blood. She too had had her throat cut.

  “We need to collect the bodies. There are nineteen women missing. We don’t leave until we can account for every one.” Lieutenant Cohen shouted the order. She glared around. “Well, don’t just stare at me. Get to it. If someone managed to crawl away and hide we need to find her.”

  Across the riverbank, women began to move with a sense of purpose, taking refuge in the activity as a diversion from the horror around them. Everyone had to know that the chances of finding a survivor were too slim to reckon, but it gave them a reason to be doing rather than thinking. Ellen stared at Cohen in surprise. For the first time in months, the lieutenant had given the right order in the right way.

  Soft sobbing made her look down. Mel was bent low over Jay’s body, her shoulders shaking. Ellen scrambled down to her side and put her hand on Mel’s shoulder. “We need to carry her to the cart.”

  “It should have been me.”

  “You did your bit. Gill told me. The group that got back. It was your lead that saved their lives.”

  “I should have been the one to stay behind.”

  “You couldn’t do everything.”

  Mel lifted her face, tears streaming down it. “Do you know why I didn’t?”

  “Someone had to—”

  “I couldn’t stay because I’m a fucking awful shot. I’m the worst archer in the squadron. The assessment tests—the Goddess must have smiled on me that day, because it was pure luck I got over the minimum score. Never done it before or since.”

  “But you were the one who kept her head.” Ellen shook Mel’s shoulder gently, trying to rally her. “Come on. We need to take Jay back to town.”

  “I’m going to get the fucking shitheads who did this. I’ll hunt them to the ends of the earth and beyond. I’ll use their own guts to wrap around their necks and choke the air out of their fucking lungs.” Mel’s eyes again met Ellen’s. “And the damned bitch who told them we were coming. Some treacherous fucking asshole betrayed us.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a betrayal.”

  “Oh yes, it does.” Mel swung her hand around wildly. “This road. It sees a fair bit of traffic. They couldn’t have set up the roadblock the day before. Or even a few hours before. The risk of someone running into it and raising the alarm would have been too high. And they knew which route we were taking. Fuck! The bitches must have known as much as I did. The prisoner—before she died she told the captain where the bandits’ hideout is. The captain and the sergeants had a full briefing yesterday afternoon. All they told the rest of us was that we were going to raid the Butcher’s base. We were told when to assemble and what road out of town we were taking and that was it.”

  “Who else would have known?”

  “Just the squadron.”

  “You think someone in the squadron is a traitor? Someone deliberately told your plans to the Butcher?”

  Mel rubbed her hand over her face and looked around the scene blindly. “No. No. Not these girls. I’d trust every last one with my life. But last night in the tavern. You were there. You saw how some were. A bit too free with the drink.” Mel’s voice became more certain. “Somebody said more than she should and some fucking shithead overheard it.”

  Ellen’s guts went cold, remembering Hal, standing by the bar, tankards in hand, eavesdropping on the Rangers. Every doubt Ellen had about the farmer returned in full force. Why had Hal been so anxious to hear? Had she been the one to pass on news about the Ranger’s plans? Was that why she rushed away so abruptly? Ellen looked around the scene—the bodies, the blood. Nineteen lay here with another two dead already back at Roadsend awaiting burial.

  Supposing Hal was involved. Supposing she was partly responsible for the slaughter. Ellen felt her skin prickle. Her stomach contracted so hard that it hurt. Would she be able to bear watching Hal tried, sentenced, and hanged? But surely, if Hal’s guilt were proved, it would kill any emotions Ellen felt for her. She could not still be attracted to Hal, could she?

  Mel had stopped crying. She sat back on her heels, her face set, breathing between clenched teeth. “I swear. I will get every last bitch responsible for this.”

  Ellen was working on controlling her own breath. This was not a string of thefts, or robbery with violence, or thugs in a fight pulling out knives when they looked to be losing. This was the casual, cold-blooded murder of wounded women, on a scale never seen since the day the blessed Himoti had first set foot on the new world. This was serious, like nothing had been before. And she was caught up in it.

  Part Two

  Lines of Inquiry

  Chapter Eight—A New Badge

  Broken Hill Ranch looked the same as the last time Ellen had been there, except for the addition of a new water trough in the yard. She slipped down from the saddle and caught hold of the reins. The horse was borrowed without permission from the Militia stables. She had to see Hal and talk to her, and the distance was too far to cover on foot. Asking Cohen would certainly have elicited a no as an a
nswer, but Ellen knew the patrolwomen unofficially borrowed horses all the time.

  Nobody was in sight, but Ellen heard barking. The noise got louder until a sheepdog appeared around the edge of the farmhouse. Ellen took a step back, certain that the animal would not remember her from before. The dog covered half the distance between them and then, to Ellen’s relief, stopped with a renewed frenzy of barking—raising the alarm rather than attacking. A few seconds later Hal came into view. Despite all her doubts, Ellen felt her insides kick. With a sharp word of command, Hal called the dog back and sent it to sit by the barn.

  The two women stared at each other in silence. For once, Hal seemed off balance. Did she also seem nervous and guilty? Ellen could not be sure. Then Hal’s usual relaxed grin spread across her face and she strolled forward.

  “Hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “About?” Hal was now close enough to touch.

  Ellen took a step back. “Did you hear about what happened to the 12th Squadron yesterday? The massacre?”

  “I heard the Rangers had run into trouble.”

  “Twenty-one dead.”

  This time Ellen was more sure of the uneasy flicker of Hal’s eyes, yet her voice stayed even as she said, “There can’t be many left.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “You mean, apart from wondering who’s going to keep the mountain cats off my property next spring?” Hal shrugged. “Yeah. Okay. It’s awful that so many are dead, and I’m worried more will die before it’s over. In the meantime, I’m just looking out for me and my family.”