Leo ghosted through the forest. Once he could see light ahead and knew that he was within hearing distance of the tree line, he started to sacrifice speed for stealth. He tested every footstep before he made it, knowing that the sound of a cracking twig could set alarm bells going for a trained knight.
They weren’t looking to get into a fight here; they were looking to ambush them so that the knights never saw it coming. It was safer that way, if not a tactic that this world would support. From talking with Mathis, Leo knew that they still placed emphasis on battling ‘honorably,’ and that they were willing to lose so long as they lost the right way.
That wasn’t how marines were trained. They won, no matter the cost.
Using hand signals, Leo gestured for Nick to get in front of the knights, and for Don to take the other knight. Quietly, Leo pulled his knife. He was more certain about using it for a move like this than the sword strapped to his back. He stepped behind his knight. In one swift move, he grabbed the knight’s head, pulling it forward, exposing the brain stem. He stabbed down and the knight’s legs buckled. Leo lowered him to the ground slowly.
To the left, Don had done the same with his knight. Nick emerged from the trees in front. He had been backup in case the knights had managed to fight back. However, it had gone completely according to plan. That wasn’t always the case, even with their level of training.
“We need another helmet,” Don stated. He hooked his hands under the dead knight’s arms and started dragging him backwards into the forest. Nick kicked at the ground to disguise the drag marks.
Leo grunted and started pulling his own knight back. “You and Nick can stay on overwatch with the rifle.”
“Or, Nick can stay on overwatch and I can watch your back,” Don countered. “You’ll need a lookout far more than he will.”
“How about bandages wrapped around the face?” Nick suggested.
Leo shook his head. “I don’t think they have those.”
From what he had seen through the binoculars, they bound wounds in linen. The sterile gauze they had in their packs would stand out a mile away, far more than an unfamiliar face in armor. Leo pulled his blade out. He tapped the breastplate lightly. Idly, Leo wondered how bulletproof it was. He remembered watching movies where knights were killed through armor by jousting lances.
Surely a horse with a lance would be no more forceful than a bullet? It was something to consider for if they ever did have to slay a knight in armor. The Gatlan knight he had killed for attacking that woman had been dressed in the soft padded jerkin knights wore underneath the armor.
“You can’t go in alone,” Don said warningly.
Leo shrugged and continued pulling the armor off his knight. “Dressed like this, no one will look twice at me. In and out, five minutes tops, no problem.”
Don looked mutinous but said nothing. He moved over and started helping Leo take the armor from his knight. He knew from helping Mathis after he had been hurt by the dragon that the armor was a beast to take on and off.
“This would be so much easier with comms,” Leo griped.
There was a general murmuring of agreement. They had tried to spare their radio batteries as much as possible, but they had died before they had even slain the dragon. They had all kept them, despite them being basically dead weight. It was like a connection to their real world, for all that it didn’t work.
Leo knew that robot probes had been sent over. No doubt they had received the same rough landing they all had, and could be anywhere in this world. All the marines had been split up on arrival, the transport platform having seemingly spat them out randomly. However, if they ever did find one, the probe’s battery might still be intact and it might have juice.
It was a longshot, a sort of pipedream that Leo liked to hold on to in the dead of night. If their radios could be recharged, then when they got back to Earth, if there was nobody waiting for them, it would make the second part of their mission much easier. Range would still be an issue, but communication helped everything.
“Are you sure you are going to be okay walking in this?” Don smirked. He weighed the gauntlet in his hand. “It’s kinda heavy.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, I won’t be long.” Leo sighed, then returned Don’s smile. “My ability to run away is one thing I’m not keen on losing.”
“Best not get caught, then,” Nick joked seriously. He tugged at the boot.
Within a few minutes, the knight’s armor had been completely removed. It might have taken just a matter of minutes for them to take it off, but it took far longer for Leo to put it on, even with both Don and Nick helping him.
“Good thing you aren’t coming too; they are going to be missed soon, if they haven’t already been,” Leo observed darkly. He stumbled forward and staggered against the nearest tree. “This is surprisingly heavy.”
“Surprisingly?” Don arched an eyebrow.
“I just meant it didn’t seem to hold Mathis back,” Leo muttered. He pulled the helmet on. “Okay, visibility is lower than low. They fight like this?”
“Five minutes in and out,” Nick reminded him.
Leo nodded and winced at the strain on his neck. There was a lot to be said for modern equipment; he didn’t think he would ever complain about his uniform again. Actually, he didn’t think he would even complain about the rubber hazmat suits he’d had to wear on occasion. That might feel like putting a plastic bag over his head, profoundly unnatural, but even when the mask fogged up a little from his breath, he could still see better than he could out of this metal slit.
“Get into position,” Leo ordered.
Don looked grim but gave a tight nod in response, and followed Nick, jogging away, weaving through the trees to curve back around to the hilltop they had used as an observation post earlier. Leo, trying to walk as normally as possible, stepped out onto the path. Back straight, head up, he clanked his way to the Sintiya camp.
Thankfully, the further he walked, the easier it became. He let out a sigh of relief when he was within the sight of the camp and nobody looked twice at him; clearly he was managing well enough not to draw attention.
“Hey, you,” another knight called out.
Leo stopped and tensed. Perhaps his last thought had come a moment too soon. “Yes?”
“Where’s your partner?” the knight asked gruffly.
“I wasn’t patrolling, call of nature,” Leo explained quickly.
The knight sniggered and waved for him to continue. Leo felt the tension drain out of him. That had been close. He didn’t think he would tell Don about that; he would crow ‘told you so’ all the way back to Gatlan’s palace.
Leo marched directly towards the main tent. The best way to conduct yourself undercover was to act with confidence; if you looked like you belonged, then no one would question it. If someone saw hesitance, or saw someone trying to sneak around, then that was when alarm bells would start going off.
He pushed open the tent flap and a slow smile spread across his face. Fortune was smiling on them yet again; there was only one other knight in the tent. It would have been unfortunate to have gatecrashed a planning meeting. The knight grunted in greeting but otherwise paid Leo no attention, which was just perfect.
In the center of the tent was a wooden table. It was roughhewn and looked like it had been made on site. There was an overabundance of trees all over this world; getting lumber wasn’t an issue, and for this clearing to be as large as it was, they had probably cleared around it. They would need wood for the fires that were burning throughout the camp, both for warmth and to cook food.
Leo’s mouth watered at the smell of the roasting fowl. Generally, they had avoided hunting and cooking their food while on the road recently. Gatlan was hostile territory, and fire and smoke drew attention. They had managed to have small fires, dug into the ground to minimize the flickering light, that they built slowly so the fire got hot enough to burn without a lot of smoke by the time it got going. Dry rations weren’t
as appetizing at hot meat.
There was a stack of parchment on the table; some were rolled into scrolls and others were weighed down by rocks on the corners to stop them from curling. Leo’s eyes flickered over the various maps on display, his quick mind memorizing what he was looking at and putting it into the context of the local geography.
It wasn’t easy, but they had become reasonably familiar with the front over the last couple of weeks, enough to pick out the landmarks and land depressions. The battle was again spilling over into Kaslea, the open plains and farming fields too tempting a battleground to ignore.
The direction of the Sintiya approach was clearly marked. On the map, Leo could spot two ridges that would offer them the line of sight needed to snipe the Sintiya commanders. Before they would make the final selection, they would need to check the Gatlan battle plans and scout the area. Maps were all very well and good, but nothing replaced actually being there.
Leo turned and swiftly walked out of the tent. He twisted and took a long way around the camp, weaving in between various squires, infantrymen, and knights. One knight looked like any other while in full armor, but the last thing he wanted was to be stopped by the same knight again. He might believe a call of nature once, but he wouldn’t believe that a second time.
He made it to the tree line without incident and started the long, curved march back to where Don and Nick were in position on the hilltop. Leo pulled the helmet off and took a deep breath. It was a relief to feel the cool breeze on his face, after the claustrophobic metal. The first step of the intelligence gathering mission was complete.
*****
The moment the first light of dawn appeared, Mathis ordered a squire to saddle a horse for him. Last night, his sovereign Prince Edmund had given him a vial and a mission of great importance. He was to ride to the sorcerer’s hut in the woods, give him the vial, and have Cyrus ascertain whether it was a true memory or if it had been falsified.
Given the recent mistake he had made, he was grateful for the implied trust. It had rattled him that he had accused Gatlan of serious crimes and exonerated the Northern Kingdoms of blame, when they had been at fault all along. Mathis shuddered to think what might have happened had the truth not been discovered so quickly.
He rode the horse as hard as he dared, only stopping to rest when absolutely necessary. Mathis felt the passage of time keenly. Cyrus hadn’t responded to Prince Edmund’s summons, thus necessitating the two-day trek there and back to the sorcerer’s home in the forest. No matter what he did, he could not make the trip any faster.
It was like attempting to race against time—it could not be done. It was hardly a foreign feeling to him. As an envoy for his kingdom, he had made many trips over the years, willing himself to go faster, but will alone could not magic him there. Only magic made for instant transport, and that was not the province of mere mortal knights such as himself.
It made for a torturous ride, the vial burning a hole through his satchel, with nothing but his thoughts for company. The steady sound of the hooves beating against the dirt path was usually peaceful, but today it just sounded frantic, and Mathis felt his heart speed up in response. He had to force himself to slow down and rest the horse, because it couldn’t gallop for very long. The most important thing was that he made the journey in one piece. Rushing would not help matters.
Eventually, Mathis arrived at Cyrus’s clearing. He dismounted and looped the reins around the nearest tree. Hurriedly, he strode over, entering the small area Cyrus had marked for his own, the white pebbles gleaming in the evening light. There was a fire in the courtyard, the woodsmoke spiraling up towards the sky. Cyrus was around here somewhere.
Mathis banged on the door to Cyrus’s hut with a clenched fist. His metal gauntlet loudly crashed against the sturdy wood. He paused for a moment and then banged again.
“Sorcerer,” Mathis called. “Cyrus!”
Scowling, Mathis stepped back. He swiveled on the spot, his keen eyes scanning the clearing for any movement. It was possible that Cyrus was elsewhere, perhaps hunting for dinner. The fire showed that he had been there recently and was planning on returning. As impatient as Mathis felt, there was nothing he could do but wait.
He sighed heavily and paced up and down, his sword swinging on his hip. Then, the door to the hut creaked open. Mathis’s head snapped up, and he saw Cyrus tottering out unsteadily, muttering indistinct words under his breath.
“Sorcerer, are you well?” Mathis asked in concern.
Prince Edmund hadn’t given a reason for Cyrus’s failure to respond to his summons, either because he didn’t know, or because it was not the sort of detail to share with a mere knight such as Mathis was. He obviously hadn’t asked his prince, but that hadn’t stopped him from wondering.
Perhaps Cyrus had been unwell, and physically incapable of responding. Cyrus straightened and Mathis felt a tingle down his spine at the power the old man could invoke. If Cyrus had been unwell, then he had clearly recovered.
Cyrus folded his arms and looked straight at Mathis. “How may I serve the kingdom of Kaslea today?” he intoned.
“My sovereign, the honorable Prince Edmund, wishes you to examine the memory in this vial.” Swiftly, Mathis withdrew the vial in question from his pouch and carefully handed it to Cyrus. “He wishes to know if the memory is genuine and he can trust what it has shown him.”
Without a word, Cyrus accepted the vial. He casually waved his hand and the vial’s stopper was removed. The memory escaped, and with a twist of his hand, he contained it inside a glowing circle, like a line of fire was around the memory. Cyrus cocked his head to one side, his eyes scanning the ripples of the gaseous memory.
Mathis had no idea what he was looking for, or what he could see, but whatever it was, Cyrus seemed to find it. He nodded in satisfaction, and gestured, the memory falling back into the vial and the vial sealing once more. Cyrus returned the vial to Mathis, who accepted it with gentle hands, careful not to break his kingdom’s only proof of the Northern Kingdoms’ treachery.
“It is genuine, there can be no doubt,” Cyrus confirmed. “Most disturbing the implications. Tell Prince Edmund he may call on me again.”
“Yes, of course,” Mathis murmured, giving a half bow to Cyrus, who seemed to shrink before his eyes back into a frail old man. “My prince would wish me to thank you for your service.”
“I live to serve,” Cyrus muttered. He looked over to the other side of the clearing, in the direction of Termont, his eyes vacant and unseeing. “Ride fast, knight. Dark times are approaching.”
Mathis swallowed and nodded. “I will ride as swiftly as I am able,” he promised.
He replaced the vial carefully in his pouch and hurried back to his horse. Cyrus was correct, the implications were disturbing and the future did look increasingly dark. All Mathis really wished to know was why. Why had the Northern Kingdoms bespelled the dragon to slaughter the innocents of Kaslea? First the dragon, then they had attacked Sintiya, and for what purpose?
It was useless to speculate, and it wasn’t for him to reason why. Mathis encouraged his horse to trot and sighed heavily. There was a little time left before darkness covered the land; he could start the return journey and maybe arrive in Termont a little after midday, rather than nearer the evening. It was all the haste he could muster, for he was only a knight, and a knight could only travel so fast.
Chapter Eighteen
It was approaching dusk when the three marines rode up to the Gatlan camp. This was the first time they had seen the Gatlan camp, but it appeared to be arranged much the same way as the Sintiya base camp. There were white tattered tents made of linen or cotton scattered across the clearing. The Gatlan flag was proudly flying everywhere they looked.
It was a stirring sight; that many flags on display was like a call to arms. It wasn’t his flag, but it didn’t take much imagination for it to feel that way. Idly, Leo wondered what a flag of Earth would look like. Perhaps it would be the blue of the Unit
ed Nations flag, with the map of the world surrounded by the branches of an olive tree. After all, they were here to save Earth, not just their country.
However, it was the smell, more than the sights, that assaulted Leo’s senses the most. There was a heady smell of cooking meat, which made his stomach cramp with hunger, but behind that was a bitter smell. It was the scent of a locker room, all sweat and urine, and musty clothes shoved in a bag for too long. There was the smell of sickness, too, the tang of metallic blood in the air, and the sweet cloying smell of infection.
They dismounted at the entrance, showing their gold token. One squire dashed away, presumably to fetch the knight commander, and another couple of squires hurried over to take the reins of their horses. One of those squires coughed, a hoarse and rattling sound.
Leo shook his head, unsurprised but sympathetic. The front was not a healthy place to be stationed. He watched as someone who was presumably the knight commander strode over to their position. His armor was more ornate than a regular knight, but Leo was pleased to note it was scratched and dented in places; he had fought among his men.
“Staff Sergeant Frasier?” the knight commander asked hesitantly, a slight frown on his face, likely from the unfamiliar form of address.
“That’s right,” Leo confirmed.
“Do you require a tent for the night?” the knight commander offered kindly.
Leo thought for a moment before slowly nodding. It would likely take some time for Gatlan to get their forces into position for the battle tomorrow morning. They could leave, and get set up at whatever vantage point they needed, with plenty of time to spare.
“Thank you, that would be good, yeah,” Leo accepted. “However, first to business. We’d like to leave at first light.”
“Of course,” the knight commander boomed jovially. He slapped Leo on the back, making him wince. That was no light tap from an armored gauntlet. “Follow me. The squires will take care of your horses and the packs that they are burdened with.”
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 18
