Timewars 06 The Khyber Connection

by Simon Hawke

  Learoyd turned on him angrily. “What the hell do you want to do, Stanley? Leave them there? Fine! You can turn tail and tuck it up between your legs while you’re about it! Go back to Peshawar and warn the troops. I suppose someone’s got to do it. But I’m not walkin’ out on Finn and Andre, no sir, not Chris Learoyd! I’m not one to leave friends in a lurch. You with me, Mulvaney?”

  “I never was much for sneakin’ about an’ keeping me ‘ead down,” said Mulvaney. “I say we go back an’ give those sods what for!”

  “Well, if we’re goin’ to kill ourselves, we might as well do it together,” said Ortheris. “You’re right, mate, we can’t just leave ‘em. What’s the plan then?”

  “They’ll never expect us to return, that’s for certain,” Learoyd said.”That should work in our favor. We sneak back in the same way we got out, posin’ as Ghazis. Mulvaney, fix your puggaree. I can see your red hair stickin’ out.”

  Mulvaney adjusted his turban.

  “Right. Let’s go.”

  Walking boldly and purposefully, they headed back toward the temple. They passed the sentries without any trouble and went up the stone stairs into the columned entryway. They were greeted by several tribesmen inside, and Learoyd replied in Pushtu, keeping his answers brief and guttural for fear of betraying an accent. They were almost to the far end of the main chamber when a voice cried out, echoing in the stone hall, “On your knees! On your knees before the Light of Islam!”

  They turned around and saw a man standing in the center of the chamber, flanked by four guards. He was tall and muscular, dressed entirely in black with loose-fitting trousers, a flowing, long-sleeved shirt, high black boots, and a vest intricately embroidered in gold. He wore a black turban fastened with a giant ruby clasp. The tribesmen in the chamber immediately dropped to all fours, pressing their heads to the floor. The three soldiers did likewise.

  “Where the devil did they come from?” whispered Ortheris. “They weren’t behind us, were they?”

  “Did you hear what he said?” Learoyd whispered. “The Light of Islam. That’s none other than Sayyid Akbar himself.”

  “Now that’s what I call a stroke o’ luck,” Mulvaney said. “We can shoot the blighter where ‘e stands an’ end this jehad once an’ for all.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Learoyd hissed.”And keep your damn voice down! You’ll give us away.”

  Drakov ignored the kneeling tribesmen and walked quickly across the chamber, heading for the innermost part of the temple with his guard accompanying him.

  “Let’s follow them,” Learoyd whispered, “but not too close. Watch yourselves.”

  They followed Drakov and his guards down the long corridor which ran to the left of the giant obsidian statue of Kali. Drakov’s guards stopped outside one of the chambers and took up posts by the entrance while Drakov went inside.

  “We can’t pass this up,” Mulvaney whispered as they approached. “There’s only four of ‘em. We can slit their throats with these ‘ere knives an’ then do in that miserable fakir. We might never get another chance, Chris.”

  “I said no,” Learoyd whispered.”We’ve got to find Finn and Andre first. We’re the only chance they’ve got.”

  They had to pass the guards on their way to the cell where they were being kept before. They kept their heads down and grunted as they went by.

  “You three!” Drakov called out behind them.

  They stopped.

  “Bloody ‘El!” whispered Ortheris.

  “Turn and face me when I speak to you!” said Drakov.

  They turned slowly, keeping their heads down, as if with great humility.

  “Where are the warriors of the host of heaven?”

  “What the devil is ‘e talkin’ about?” whispered Mulvaney.

  “How the hell should I know?” Learoyd whispered back. Then, with his head still bowed, he replied in Pushtu, “I do not know, Your Holiness.”

  Drakov stood silent for a moment, thinking. “I am told there are British soldiers being held prisoner here. Take me to them.”

  “Well, what do you know?” whispered Mulvaney. “We’re goin’ to get our chance at Sayyid bloody Akbar, after all.”

  Learoyd elbowed him in the ribs. “This way, Your Holiness,” he said, bowing low and pointing out the way.

  “Lead on,” said Drakov.

  “Steady, lads,” whispered Learoyd. “Steady now.”

  They walked ahead of Drakov and his guards, heading toward the cell they had recently escaped from. They paused at the door. Drakov stopped in front of it.

  “This door is unbolted! What is the meaning of this?” He opened it. “There’s no one inside! Where are the prisoners?” He reached out and jerked Mulvaney’s head up. “You’re not—”

  Mulvaney slammed a hard right into his stomach and pushed him into the cell. Learoyd plunged his knife deep into the abdomen of one of the guards while Ortheris kicked another in the groin with all his might and stuck his knife into the other’s chest. Learoyd wrestled briefly with the fourth guard, his hand clamped over his mouth, then slashed his blade across his throat. Ortheris disposed of the one remaining guard, who was on the floor, clutching at his vitals. They quickly dragged the corpses into the cell and shut the door.

  Learoyd had Drakov backed up against the stone wall, the point of his Khyber knife against his throat.

  “Well, well,” said Mulvaney, grinning. “Look what we’ve got ‘ere!”

  He had lost his turban in the scuffle, and Drakov stared at him, then at the others. “Who are you men?”

  “You speak English!” said Ortheris, not so much surprised to hear a Pathan speaking it as he was to hear it spoken so well, without an accent.

  “You’re the soldiers,” Drakov said. “I commend you on your resourcefulness. Where are the others who were being held with you, a man and a woman?”

  “Look at this, will you?” Ortheris said. “A knife at ‘is throat an’ ‘e’s demandin’ answers like a bleedin’ rajah!”

  “That’s just what we’re here to find out, Your Holiness,” Learoyd said.

  “Chris, watch ‘is ‘ands!” cried Mulvaney.

  Learoyd quickly batted Drakov’s right hand away from his left wrist. It looked as if he had been reaching for a dagger hidden up his sleeve. Mulvaney quickly stepped up and checked.

  “What’s this?” he said, examining the warp disc on Drakov’s wrist. He pulled at it, trying to figure out how to take it off, and managed to yank it loose.

  “What is it?” said Learoyd.

  “Looks like some sort o’ bracelet,” said Mulvaney.

  “Be careful with it,” said Learoyd. “These devils can be tricky. It might have some sort of poisoned needle in it or the like.”

  Mulvaney flung it away from him and it landed in the far corner of the room. “Right,” he said. “Let’s finish ‘im off.”

  “Don’t be too hasty,” Drakov said. “I’m your best chance of finding your friends. As long as I’m alive, you remain alive. If you harm me, they’ll cut you to pieces.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” Learoyd said. “Where’d you learn to speak English so well?”

  Drakov smiled. “You would not believe me if I told you.”

  “I say we kill ‘im an’ ‘ave done with it!” Mulvaney said.

  “No, let’s not be rash,” Learoyd said.”He has a point. If we kill him now, we may never get through this alive. He’s our ticket out of here. And he can get us safe passage to Peshawar. Wouldn’t that be something, us ridin’ in with Sayyid Akbar himself? We’d be heroes.”

  “Live heroes are generally preferable over dead ones,” Drakov said.

  “You keep shut,” Learoyd said. “Mulvaney, take him. He’s a big one, but he won’t break away from you. Get on, you.”

  They pushed him out into the corridor. It was filled with heavily armed tribesmen.

  “Blast!”’ Learoyd said.

  “Now aren’t you glad you didn’t kill me?” D
rakov said, smiling.

  “Tell them to back away!”

  “You tell them. You speak the language well enough.”

  “I want it comin’ from you.” Learoyd jabbed him with the knife. “Now.”

  Drakov called out to the tribesmen to back away. They did so, slowly, keeping their weapons ready.

  “Now ask them where they’ve got the prisoners.”

  Drakov called out to the tribesmen again. There was a brief silence, then one of the men answered.

  “There are no prisoners, Your Holiness. There are only those with you. The others have escaped.”

  “Escaped?” said Ortheris.

  “They’re lyin’,” said Mulvaney. “We never saw ‘em come out.”

  “Why don’t you search the other chambers then?” said Drakov. “I’m in no great hurry to go anywhere. I’ll wait.”

  “I don’t like this,” Ortheris said. “This chap’s actin’ too cocksure of ‘imself.”

  “I have nothing to lose,” said Drakov. “You don’t dare risk harming me. And as for getting me to Peshawar, you’re dreaming. If you think about it, you’ll see how hopeless your position is.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Learoyd said. “Come on.”

  They proceeded farther down the hall to check the other chambers. Mulvaney kept a firm grip on Drakov while Learoyd and Ortheris quickly checked the rooms. Each one they came to was empty. There was no sign of Finn and Andre. The tribesmen followed, keeping their distance, alert for any opportunity to attack and rescue their holy man. Among them, his khakis hidden by a long white robe, was Gunga Din.

  Chapter 11

  The British camp was below them, on the plain before the Bedmanai Pass. It was Mohmand territory, the land of the savage tribesmen of the Mamund Valley. After the relief of Chakdarra, Blood had pressed on to put down the revolt of the Mohmands, who though they had been deserted by Sadullah, nevertheless had no shortage of holy men to spur them on in their jehad. The entire frontier situation was unstable, from Chitral to the Khyber Pass. The fever of jehad had spread like a disease, infecting all those tribes except those already pacified by force of arms.

  General Blood knew he could not fail to put down the rebellion. It was not enough to defeat Sadullah at the Malakand Pass, nor was it enough to rescue the garrison at Chakdarra. He needed to put down each and every tribe, thwart each and every holy man who incited the mountain people to revolt. Those tribes that had been defeated by him, those khans who had been forced to make peace along his line of march, would remain subjugated only so long as he did not fail. One defeat, one withdrawal, one serious setback, or one recalcitrant tribe not met on its own ground would be interpreted as a sign of weakness, and those khans who had so humbly and respectfully agreed to terms would immediately rise up again,, like the embers of a campfire not properly doused would soon erupt in flame.

  Finn and Andre stood upon a rise overlooking the British camp. They knew from history that this was one of the most difficult moments in Blood’s campaign. Before him was the Bedmanai Pass, held by the Ghazi followers of Hadda Mullah. Behind him was ground broken by ravines and nullahs, across which retreat would be extremely difficult. He had only one brigade with him. The 2nd Brigade, which had been meant to rendezvous here with him, was still engaged in fighting in the Mamund Valley, twelve miles away. The 1st Brigade was stuck with transport problems on the Panjkora River. A relief division was still miles away, struggling to get through difficult and hostile country. Blood was squarely in the middle at Nawagai.

  Heliograph communications under such conditions were difficult, as was the local khan, who was loyal to the British only while Blood remained encamped upon his doorstep. If he went to reinforce the 2nd Brigade, the khan of Nawagai would turn against him and the Hadda Mullah’s Ghazis would pour down out of the Bedmanai Pass to harass his rear. The entire region would be out of control. Blood’s brigade was the only thing between the Hadda Mullah’s Ghazis and the tribesmen in the Mamund. If they were to unite, his situation, and that of the British in the northern sector of the frontier, would almost certainly be hopeless.

  “He’s down there somewhere,” Finn said, “a young cavalry officer on leave from his regiment and having a high old time. Can you beat that? Most soldiers go on leave so they can see their loved ones or have a party somewhere. This one goes so he can see a war. It’s not enough he’s faced with thousands of berserkers with knives and swords and rifles, now he’s got a hit squad from a parallel future on his tail. ‘How was your leave, soldier?’ ‘Oh, not so bad, sir. Bit of a dustup with several thousand savages; some difficulty crossing rugged terrain while being harassed by snipers night and day; a few assassins from an alternate universe gave us a rough time for a while, but otherwise, routine, sir. Just routine.’ What was that line about mad dogs and Englishmen?”

  “You’re tense,” said Andre. “You always babble incoherently when you get tense.”

  Delaney snorted. “You’re feeling relaxed and mellow, I suppose?”

  “Sure. I’m fine now. When this is over, I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. I hope to hell you’ve read the situation right.”

  “I hope to hell I have too,“ said Finn. “If I was going to do what they’re planning, this would be the perfect opportunity. This was a turning point in Blood’s campaign. If he failed here, the whole northern frontier would have gone up, and the Tirah Expeditionary Force would have been nowhere near enough to pacify the region. With Blood putting down the uprisings in the north, all Lockhart had to worry about were the tribes in the southern sector. This scenario would give them the perfect chance to kill two birds with one stone. Assassinate Churchill and sabotage, Blood’s drive against the Bedmanai Pass. Add that to the strike against the Tirah force in the Khyber and you’ve got a massive temporal disruption on several counts, with at least one timestream split, guaranteed.”

  “How do you think they’ll go about it?” Andre said.

  “If I was them, I’d wait for the battle,” Finn said.

  “It would be easier for them to kill Churchill in all the confusion.”

  “You don’t think they’re down there already, do you?”

  “I doubt it. It would be difficult to infiltrate a brigade that’s been together as long as this one has. Most of the men would know each other, and strangers would be spotted pretty quickly. And infiltrating the tribesmen would make it that much harder for them to get close to Churchill. Easier when you’re on the same side. No, they’ll wait for all hell to break loose when the brigade goes up against the Ghazis. My guess is they’re out here somewhere in the dark, just like we are. Waiting.”

  “Or looking for us,” said Andre. “If they can scan for warp discs, then they know we’re here.”

  “I’m betting against it,” Finn said. “They have no reason to carry scanning equipment with them on this trip. They want to travel light. And as far as they know, we’re still back in that cell inside the temple, being interrogated by Bryant and the others in the party.”

  “Unless one of them’s gone back to check in,” she said. “Any way you look at it, we’re taking a big gamble.”

  “True,” said Finn, grinning at her, “but you’re taking it with an Irishman. That’s as near to a sure thing as you can get.”

  “I’d still feel better if we had the entire First Division with us,” Andre said. “I’m also worried about Mulvaney, Ortheris, and Learoyd.”

  “I know,” said Finn. “I hope they weren’t foolish enough to go back when they saw we didn’t come out.”

  “They’re just the type who would,” said Andre.

  Finn nodded. “Much as I hate to say it, we can’t afford to worry about them now. Their lives aren’t as important as Churchill’s. We have to take care of the hit squad first. Then we can go back for them.”

  “Assuming we’re still alive.”

  “We will be. I’m not quite ready to retire yet. We need to get close to Churchill in a hurry when things start happeni
ng,” said Finn. “I don’t like trying to clock into the middle of a battle and looking for him while everybody’s shooting at each other.”

  “You’re right. I think we should go down there,” Andre said.

  “How do we explain our presence? We were sent back to Peshawar from Malakand, remember?”

  “True, but what if we never got there?”

  “Okay, what are you thinking?”

  “Listen to this and tell me if it sounds plausible. We started out towards Peshawar, but ran into enemy tribesmen on the way. We ran, but we couldn’t get through. We became separated from the others when my horse was shot out from under me. You turned back to help me, and we were cut off. We managed to escape and we followed the regiment, keeping to concealment as much as possible. Your horse went lame several miles away from here and we had to chance going the rest of the way on foot. We arrive at the brigade camp looking very tired, and relieved as all hell to get through with our skins intact. What do you think?”

  “Not bad,” said Finn. “I don’t think they’ll have any reason to question the story. We already look pretty bedraggled, but it’ll help if we mess our clothes up a bit more. It’ll get us back into the camp, and we’ll be able to keep close to Churchill. I like it. You’d better carry the disruptor. We can tear up these robes a bit and rig up a way to tie it to your thigh. It might be difficult to conceal on me, and I don’t think anyone will go looking up your dress. These are Englishmen, after all.”

  “Too bad,” she said, smiling. “I was going to suggest one way to keep close to Churchill tonight.”

  Delaney stared at her.

  “Just kidding.”

  “With you, sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

  They made their preparations and then started down toward the camp. “Be careful,” said Finn. “We don’t want to get shot by the pickets.”

  When they were a short distance from the camp, Finn spotted the picket line. At almost the same time an alert soldier spotted him. A shot sent them both sprawling face down in the dirt.

  “Hold your fire!” Finn shouted.