They had to get home, if only to discover the reality of the situation.
Nick shook Leo awake a couple of hours later. Leo looked at him hopefully and Nick shook his head; there had been no sign of the convoy. Leo sighed. This was an epic waste of time, just sitting around and waiting. However, there was nothing else they could do. It required patience, but patience was in short supply these days.
Leo looked up at the sky. The sun was starting to set. If the convoy was coming today, then they would need to come through soon, otherwise it wouldn’t happen. The supply convoy would stop to make camp. Nobody except the desperate, it seemed, traveled at night in this world. Although, Leo supposed they didn’t have night vision goggles or flashlights.
The US military might not have invented the phrase ‘we own the night,’ but they had certainly adopted it as their own. Enemy forces were usually at their weakest at 3 a.m., and it only made sense to take advantage of that fact. People got cold, tired, and there were fewer guards and patrols around.
Nick settled back against a tree and Leo crouched down on the top of the hill. The light quality was already starting to diminish, with the shadows getting longer as the sun lost its battle for the day. In another hour, they would have to give up until tomorrow. He pulled the binoculars out of his combat vest and scanned the horizon every few minutes.
Finally, twenty minutes later, Leo spotted movement.
“Jackpot,” Leo breathed. He swiftly got to his feet and shook Nick’s arm and then Don’s. “Convoy is on its way.”
“About damn time,” Don hissed.
The three marines returned to the top of the hill, crawling the last part on their stomachs and lying flat against the ground to minimize their profiles. Leo looked through the binoculars again. The convoy was starting to become clearer as it passed through the trees.
It was a collection of wagons, half a dozen horse-drawn carts. Some of the carts were open-top, displaying the supplies contained—for instance, more of what looked like water barrels. Others were covered by dirty white cloth, presumably to protect them from the elements or animal activity. Each horse was being led by a squire pulling on its reins. There were half a dozen knights scattered amongst the convoy, acting as a guard.
All told, there were at least a dozen people, possibly a few more, walking with the convoy. Leo swallowed hard, and avoided looking at their faces through the binoculars. Training meant that they didn’t hesitate when it came time to kill someone. However, that didn’t make it easy; these people hadn’t done anything to them.
Don took the binoculars and looked through. He nodded. “First wagon’s in the zone.”
Leo withdrew the detonator and flipped the switch, arming the claymores. Now, all that was left to do was wait for the convoy to be in position, sandwiched between the planted claymores on either side, and then he just had to press one little red button.
“Second is in,” Don reported. “Good grouping, they are tight together. Should get all six.”
“It would be helpful if there was a witness,” Nick pointed out. “Maybe there’ll be a survivor?”
Don shrugged. “Doubtful, but always possible. They’ll be found soon enough anyway. The village isn’t far, and once they get over the fear of the sound, curiosity will bring them out. Fourth wagon is in the zone.”
Leo licked his lips. He couldn’t really see the details without the binoculars, which was probably a good thing, as the claymores would pulverize everything. Don was right, there would likely be no survivors, just body parts and red mist.
“Now,” Don barked.
Without hesitation, Leo pressed the red button. A second later, there was a boom and the earth shook. Leo stared at the sight, at the small fireball, at the splinters and crashing of wood, as the wagons were blasted from both sides. He blinked. It was too much to take in within reality. If this were a movie, they would have filmed it in slow motion, and showed the same explosion from a number of different angles.
Leo clicked his fingers and Don handed him the binoculars. Leo looked through them, at the smoke spiraling from the remains of the wagons. Whatever supplies had been contained within the convoy, they were unrecognizable now; they had been completely pulverized and were definitely not usable. Parts of the wagons were on fire, but the blast had been more destructive than incendiary and the fire shouldn’t spread.
For a moment, through the wreckage, Leo couldn’t make out any bodies. Then he saw a hand, and what looked like part of a leg. Finally, he saw half of a crushed skull. He almost didn’t realize what it was. He swallowed back bile, and tried to hand the binoculars to Nick, who refused them with a shake of his head.
“Time to go,” Leo ordered quietly, in a subdued tone.
The three marines swiftly got to their feet and went to the horses. Leo looked at the sky; they would maybe be able to ride for an hour before it would be too dark to continue. That should get them away from the area. However, while they might be able to leave the scene of the carnage behind them, he couldn’t leave the memory of it behind so easily.
He shook his head and urged his horse forward. This was war, and war had casualties. It was hardly his first rodeo; he’d done multiple overseas tours and several special operations missions. However, this felt different because those people weren’t his enemy.
They were Gatlan’s enemies, and Gatlan was their ally, and the enemy of their ally was their enemy. Reframing it in those terms made it slightly more palatable, and easier to accept, but it still nagged at his gut. It didn’t feel right, but it was necessary. It was something they were going to have to learn to live with.
*****
Yannick snickered to himself as he strolled around the grounds of the palace in Termont, Kaslea. The shadows seemed to cling to his dark form, even without the subtle application of magic which rendered him invisible to sight. It was time for the games to begin. Eleanor had ordered a bath to be drawn, and was currently surrounded by maids and footmen. It was an alibi they had used before.
With Eleanor obviously clear of suspicion, even with her known magical talents, that cleared Yannick to take action. The summit had been called under the guise of peace talks, but war was their objective, not peace. With everyone in place, the easiest way to spark conflict was sabotage and infighting.
The Northern Kingdoms needed to look aggressive, and he had just the opening move in mind. Night had fallen an hour earlier, and Lord Greenford and his party had retired for the night. Both Sintiya and the Northern Kingdoms had been permitted to bring their own security forces, a small unit of knights for their protection. Lord Greenford had also brought a small retinue of personal staff to attend him.
Eleanor had two knights stationed outside the door to the quarters she had been assigned, and two stationed in the palace grounds, beneath the window. She had another set of four knights resting, ready to replace their comrades, so she was always surrounded by her personal guard.
Lord Greenford had a knight outside his door; the rest of his knights were in the barracks. Yannick had observed their drunken, undisciplined behavior. They were wandering at will, as Lord Greenford’s overconfidence meant that they were treating the assignment like a holiday. It was exactly what they had hoped.
Finally, Yannick spotted his target for the evening, as the two knights stationed on the ground beneath Eleanor’s window became visible through the night gloom. The sky was clouded tonight, and the moonlight was weak. He sighed as he waited for the perfect moment to strike. He needed one of the knights to step away. They were too close together, and a pursuit would be dangerous.
Yannick casually lounged back, taking a seat on thin air. It was an intimidating mastery of subtle magic, which was worth practicing in dull moments like this. Waiting was such a boring exercise, but he had the patience. That was why he alone of the Dark Knights had survived—he knew how to pick his moment.
It took nearly two hours before one of the knights decided to heed a call of nature and left his post. Ya
nnick scowled, hoping that Eleanor’s alibi would hold. The remaining knight paced back and forth, not out of vigilance but because it was a boring duty. Yannick’s eyes gleamed; he would never see the attack coming.
He bent down and scooped up a rock. It was child’s play to sneak up behind the knight. Yannick raised the rock, bringing it crashing down on the knight’s head. His helmet absorbed most of the impact, but the knight still fell to his knees. Yannick jumped on his back, pinning him face down and yanking his helmet off before delivering another blow.
Swiftly, Yannick dropped the rock and melted into the night. He would have liked to bash the knight’s brains in, spread his blood and brain matter across the pristine green grass, but that wasn’t the goal for tonight. He would have to be patient, and sate his bloodlust at another time.
Less than a minute later, the knight’s comrade returned. Yannick watched him amble along, pause in confusion at seeing the post empty, before he then obviously saw the shadowy lump on the ground. The knight dashed over and fell to his knees, pulling off a gauntlet to check for a pulse. Yannick cloaked himself in magic and drew closer, close enough to see the blood staining the knight’s hand from where he had touched his fallen comrade’s head.
“Help, attack!” the knight roared, his voice traveling in the still night air. He repeated the phrase, over and over, until a few moments later a couple of Kaslea knights appeared, heeding his cry for aid.
Yannick smirked in satisfaction. This would certainly create quite the stir in the morning. With everyone retired for the night, there would be no delicious drama to witness yet. Prince Edmund might be disturbed and informed; that would be at his knight commander’s discretion. Either way, he was sure Eleanor would have fun playing this for all it was worth tomorrow.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Eleanor rose early. She hadn’t been disturbed the night before, so she still didn’t officially know what had befallen her knight. With practice, she hid her anticipation, acting like nothing was amiss as her lady’s maids made her ready for the day.
Eleanor swept down the corridors towards the dining room for breakfast. Lord Greenford was already seated; he gave her a look of contempt and turned back to his tea. Prince Edmund’s expression was grim, and it deepened when he caught sight of her. He shot to his feet, as was polite when a lady of station entered a room.
“Queen Eleanor, good morning. I hope that your night passed comfortably and that you are well rested. I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Prince Edmund said, his words coming out in a rush.
No matter the diplomatic training he had undergone since he was a boy, this was a new situation for him and his inexperience showed.
“My rest was most satisfactory, thank you,” Eleanor said politely, schooling her reaction to display mild concern. “What has happened?”
“One of your knights was found unconscious last night. It appears he was attacked from behind with a rock,” Prince Edmund told her. Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up in apparent shock and he hastily continued. “Your knight is fine; he will make a full recovery.”
“While I am relieved to hear that,” Eleanor noted first carefully, “I am very concerned by this breach of security. I was not aware of a threat to me personally last night, but it demonstrates a vulnerability, attacking my personal guard and leaving my window unprotected.”
“Queen Eleanor, I can assure you, while you are a guest in my kingdom your safety is my highest priority. I have already stationed knights of my own to augment your guard, and I have ordered one of my most trusted knights to begin an investigation,” Prince Edmund explained desperately.
Eleanor gave him a look of careful consideration. The young prince was practically sweating in his desire to make it right; he was so anxious not to cause offence. It was the perfect opposite to Lord Greenford, who if anything seemed to be relishing Eleanor’s discomfort, which hadn’t been entirely feigned.
Her security was of paramount importance to her, so it wasn’t difficult to dredge up the necessary fear at ‘what could have been.’ Eleanor shot daggers at Lord Greenford, both because she felt like it and to draw Prince Edmund’s attention to his attitude. She mentally smirked; Lord Greenford hadn’t realized yet that he was digging his own grave.
The more pleased he was over Sintiya’s misfortune, the guiltier he looked in the eyes of Prince Edmund. It no doubt hadn’t crossed Lord Greenford’s mind that they might be blamed, because he knew that they weren’t responsible.
“Thank you, Prince Edmund,” Eleanor accepted graciously. “Accustomed as I am to dealing with matters personally, this is your kingdom, and I will trust you to take care of the situation.”
Prince Edmund looked gratified at her unexpected declaration of trust. A footman pulled out Eleanor’s seat for her, and at her direction poured a cup of tea. Prince Edmund retook his seat, only to shoot back to his feet a moment later when his mother arrived.
Eleanor watched with interest at the warm look that crossed his face, and felt a pang that she ruthlessly denied at their affectionate morning greeting. Her mother had died when she was only six years old, and had been sick and ailing the entire time she had known her. It was clear just from observing their interaction that Prince Edmund loved his mother very much.
Knowing what someone loved was always useful, because what they loved could always be used against them. However, Eleanor shied away from exploring that possibility for the moment. That wasn’t something she wished to do, if at all possible.
“Princess Maria is not joining us this morning?” Lord Greenford asked mildly. He smirked in Eleanor’s direction, before turning back to Prince Edmund. “How is your lovely betrothed? I forgot to mention yesterday how we missed her at the recent gala. Such a charming girl.”
Prince Edmund cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Princess Maria is well, thank you. I know there has not been much time for social matters thus far, but I’m sure she would be happy to receive you when a convenient moment does arise.”
“Ah, yes, her father is such a dear friend,” Lord Greenford noted.
Eleanor refrained from rolling her eyes. Lord Greenford failed at subtlety, and his comments were counterproductive, working very much in her favor. She noted with satisfaction that Prince Edmund was visibly uncomfortable. He clearly didn’t appreciate the implication that Lord Greenford was not so subtly making.
It was a power play; Lord Greenford was trying to intimidate her and let her know that she would not win. He was a typical example of a man in power, completely oblivious to his impact on others. He hadn’t noticed, and likely would not notice, that his actions were having a detrimental effect on Prince Edmund. That worked well for her; Lord Greenford was doing her work for her, and making the plan easier to complete.
By the end of this summit, any alliance between the Northern Kingdoms and Kaslea would lay in tatters and both kingdoms would be weakened by the exchange. It would then be much easier for Sintiya to move in, and they would never see it coming. Eleanor didn’t want to fight a war on multiple fronts, and the beauty of this plan was that she wouldn’t have to—they would destroy themselves without any of her forces adding fuel to the fire.
Paranoia was such a useful emotion to exploit. Eleanor eyed Prince Edmund. Soon he wouldn’t be sure who to trust, and she would make sure to position herself as the one reasonable person in the room. She was a fellow leader, one he could turn to in his hour of need—the queen of Sintiya.
*****
“We should head back,” Leo muttered as they broke camp.
“Should?” Don raised an eyebrow at the stressed word.
It was the morning after they had ambushed the Sintiya supply convoy. They had not managed to travel far, and Leo kept finding his gaze being drawn to the Kaslea border, and the frontline. When they had traveled from Kaslea into Gatlan, in the interests of avoiding the frontline and therefore any confrontations, they had taken a wide detour. That meant they had missed visiting the border vill
age that they had ‘saved’ from the clashing forces of Gatlan and Sintiya.
They hadn’t really saved the village; they had stopped the destruction that time, but with how close the village was to the frontline, it was only a matter of time before the battle spilled over once again. The villagers had refused to leave, believing that the forces of Gatlan or Sintiya would not dare return. Leo didn’t share their confidence, and their situation had been preying on his mind.
“We’re very close to the frontline, the border with Kaslea…” Leo started casually.
“You’re thinking of the border village,” Nick interrupted. “I’ve been thinking about it too. All those people, that mother and child…”
Nick’s voice broke and Leo’s heart lurched. They had been on leave when Earth had gone to hell. He hadn’t had time to go home, and his parents had died without him ever seeing them again. Nick had had just a few precious days with his wife and newborn baby daughter before he had been forced to leave them. Leo couldn’t imagine how hard that must be, how agonizing to be so far away from them, so powerless to protect them, and to not even know their fate.
“We could take a small detour,” Don suggested neutrally. “We’ll still be back at the palace by the end of tomorrow, it makes no difference.”
“Admit it, you want to make sure they are alright too,” Leo teased halfheartedly.
Don punched him lightly in the shoulder. “More like I want a hot meal. That tavern served some semi-decent stuff.”
Leo smiled softly and pulled himself back into the saddle of his horse. He grimaced. You’d think that he would have gotten used to it by now, but he hadn’t. He still ached badly; riding a horse everyday wasn’t for the weak of spirit. He actually looked forward to the times when they rested the horses and had to walk for a spell. It stretched different muscles, but no matter what, he still ached badly by the end of the day.
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 13
