Justified (#2 Divided Destiny)

by Taitrina Falcon

  “Save us, please,” one of the women begged, reaching upwards with both arms. Her eyes wide and pleading.

  “Working on it,” Leo muttered. “But I need you to stay silent.”

  “Please, please,” another woman wailed.

  Leo looked in panic over his shoulder at Nick, who thankfully shook his head. No one was coming—at the moment. However, they would soon attract all the wrong kinds of attention if this lock didn’t open or the women didn’t shut up. It wasn’t that Leo was unsympathetic, but he was trying to help them, and right now they weren’t helping themselves.

  “Please stay quiet,” Leo ordered frantically, for the third time.

  Finally, the lock clicked open and Leo breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He pulled the heavy padlock away and threw it to the ground. He opened the trapdoor and looked for the rope and grimaced. Pulling them up one at a time was going to take way too long, but what else could they do? The wooden bars were secured all around the pit, designed so even if the women had helped each other reach them, they would never be able to push the bars off and free themselves.

  “Please, please!” a woman yelled.

  Leo’s heart skipped a beat and another woman shushed her. He threw the rope down and one of the women grabbed it, and started to pull herself up. Another grabbed for the rope, and then two were fighting.

  “Stop it,” Leo demanded desperately. If they fought, that would slow the process even further. “One at a time, quick as you can.”

  He shot a glance at Nick, who looked grim but shook his head. The first woman clambered out of the pit. She moved to run like a frightened rabbit. Leo grabbed her arm; she instinctively fought and he felt sick.

  “If you’re spotted, then we’re all doomed,” Leo told her. “Just wait until a few more are out.”

  Gingerly, he released her. The woman eyed him warily and rubbed her arm, but thankfully didn’t bolt. Leo had thought that she might, and he really couldn’t blame her. His heart was pounding. He rubbed his sweaty palm against his uniform trousers. His rifle was clipped to his vest, but it would do them no good here.

  Leo pocketed his Swiss army knife and drew the sword that King Oswald had granted them. He glanced over at Nick, and saw that he had his Ka-Bar knife in his hand. That wasn’t as good as a sword, but it would do in a pinch, and Oswald had only given them the one blade. If this commotion did draw attention, then they would have no choice. They would have to take out whoever discovered them; there could be no witnesses.

  Five women were now out of the pit, and he watched the sixth haul herself up. Leo swallowed. This was taking far too long. This kind of rescue mission needed a full unit, not half of a team. He missed his missing or fallen comrades every day, but right now he missed them because he needed them. A marine never stood alone, but there were only two of them here, and that just wasn’t enough to cover all the angles.

  Leo looked down into the pit and did a quick headcount. There were eleven more women to come up. His eyes narrowed. Now that the pit was emptying, he spotted something he hadn’t seen before—a door set into the bottom of the pit. It was obviously covering a tunnel.

  He looked over; there was a pile of branches to the right of the pit. He hadn’t paid any attention to it before, assuming that it was just a pile of wood. However, now he was curious. Leo looked around and swiftly moved over. He nudged the pile with his foot, and it collapsed with a loud rumble. He swore, and then his jaw dropped.

  It was another pit, a smaller one, and there was movement. Leo lifted his rifle and flicked the flashlight. He staggered back. Illuminated by the beam thankfully wasn’t more trapped women. Instead, it was a beast he recognized. It was another one of those horned boars, like the one that he had killed with a sword—though not before it had nearly killed him.

  While Leo stared at it, the boar snorted and pawed at the ground, its hell-red eyes staring at him. Leo shook his head in confusion. What were they keeping such a beast here for? If they were going to eat it, why not just kill it? It would be of no use in battle; it would attack indiscriminately and be as dangerous to Gatlan’s men as it would be to their enemies.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  A tug at his sleeve got Leo’s attention. One of the women was standing there. As he looked at her, she seemed to shrink under his gaze. He saw her swallow, her expression scared but determined. She pointed further to the right.

  “The others,” she whispered quietly.

  Leo blanched. He quickly moved over and saw to his horror that there was another pit, another set of wooden bars. He shined the flashlight down, the dim light from the cloud-filled sky not penetrating into the dark hole. He saw a sea of faces, another set of terrified, abused women. He fell to his knees, and grabbed for his Swiss army knife and the padlock.

  “Hey!” a male voice shouted.

  Leo twisted and saw Nick grab a squire, by the look of his clothing, and swiftly slit his throat. The squire grabbed at his neck, blood pouring from the wound. He gurgled and collapsed to the ground. One of the women screamed.

  “Shit,” Leo swore. He looked desperately at Nick, and then back at the pit of women.

  “Save us,” one of the women in the pit called pitifully.

  “Shit,” Leo repeated in horror.

  They had seen him; they had definitely seen him. If this got back to King Oswald, that it was them that had infiltrated the camp, freed the woman, and killed one of his men, then he might not give them what they needed. They could lose everything, and Leo couldn’t allow that.

  He got to his feet. They didn’t have time to open the second pit; they couldn’t because they couldn’t be seen. The alarm was already going up; the woman’s scream at the sight of the slain squire had seen to that. They had to hurry. They had only seconds to get away. If they didn’t leave now, then they would be spotted, likely captured, and then it would be all over.

  Leo stepped away and he heard the women in the pit start to sob and wail. They were crying, pleading, begging for him to help them, for him to save them. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save them. This had been a mistake from the beginning.

  “Run!” Leo ordered forcefully, gesturing for the women standing by the pit to head towards the forest. “Nick, go!”

  He looked around, and it was like time slowed as he considered his options, but really there was only one option. There could be no witnesses. His eyes caught sight of a rope connected to a pulley system. Leo had seen it during their previous visit yesterday. It was a flagpole, and he had wondered what the attached ropes were for, but he hadn’t really paid it any mind.

  Now having seen the doors at the bottom of the pleasure pits, which connected tunnels to the pit containing the beast boar, its meaning was obvious. The boar had been kept as a threat to keep the women in line. Leo dashed over to the pole. With a surprisingly steady hand, he severed the rope. It whistled as the weight fell and the doors rose.

  He turned and started to sprint away. Ahead of him in the distance were the women and Nick. Leo chanced a glance back behind him, but he couldn’t see anyone. He poured on a burst of speed, arms pumping. He ran as fast as he could for the safety of the tree line. Leo hit the tree line and staggered to a stop.

  “Did they see me?” Leo asked, gasping for breath. He looked at his hand—it was shaking. He bent over and threw up, retching again and again.

  “No,” Nick replied grimly.

  Leo straightened and tried to regain control of his breathing. He hated himself for what he’d just done. The roaring noises of the boar—and the screaming which had followed his flight from the camp—echoed around his mind. Those women had been trapped. They had been torn apart.

  He’d had to do it. There couldn’t be any witnesses. It was Earth, their home planet, that was on the line, as well as the seven billion people that called it home. He couldn’t take the chance. Leo couldn’t risk Earth for a handful of people that they hadn’t had to try and save in the first place.

  Sacrifices h
ad to be made.

  If he hadn’t done it, if he had tried to save them, then nobody would have gotten out. Nobody would have been saved. There had been no other choice, and the women were better off dead, seeing as they couldn’t save them. The voice in the back of his head was insistent that he could have tried harder, that he could have saved them, but Leo knew it was a lie.

  It had been the wrong thing to do, but it had also been the only thing he could’ve done. No matter what, he couldn’t have saved them. All he could have done was grant them the mercy of a quick death. The boar would have ripped through them. It might have been painful, but it wouldn’t have left any survivors.

  This would be something he would just have to learn to live with. Something that they would all have to learn to live with. It had been him that had severed the rope, but it could so easily have been Nick, or Don if he had been there. Neither of them would have done any different. They had all agreed to try and save those women, and they would all bear the responsibility for how it had turned out.

  Maybe it would have been better if they had left it alone. Just like with the village on the Kaslea border, maybe it would have been better if they had never tried to help.

  “Hey, Leo, we couldn’t have saved them,” Nick said, gripping Leo’s shoulder.

  Leo wiped his mouth and took a swig of water from his canteen. He spat it on the ground, trying to rinse the taste of vomit from his mouth. Nick looked pale, and as sick as Leo felt.

  “It had to be done,” Nick stated forcefully, his eyes wild, obviously trying to convince himself as much as Leo. “It’ll all be worth it when we get the weapon and return home, when we save Earth. We couldn’t risk that. It had to be done, and we couldn’t have saved them anyway. It had to be done.”

  “I know,” Leo agreed hollowly.

  They could never have saved them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Don marched through the trees, leaving Leo and Nick behind. Every step he took felt like lead; splitting from his teammates over such a distance was alien to him. Leo was his best friend. They had fought together for years. Don remembered when he’d first set eyes on Leo in Termont’s marketplace—he had never felt such relief.

  If any marine had walked through the archway, it would have been a very welcome sight, but seeing Leo, his brother in all but blood, had taken it to eleven. They were family, and that was why splitting up, going on separate missions in this alien world of magic, was so damn difficult. Anyway, they had split a group of three; one of them would have been on their own.

  A good part of Don was appreciative of the fact that he was the one taking the risk. He had taken the role of the protector of the group, and it was where he was most comfortable. However, he wasn’t blind, and he knew that Leo and Nick’s mission was a lot more dangerous than his was. If he wasn’t there, then he couldn’t protect them.

  His mission just maybe got them the final step closer to being able to protect Earth. Its importance could not have been overstated, and he knew that—provided, of course, that Gatlan kept their word. Nick was the optimist of the group, and for all that Don wanted to join him in hoping, for he had a family back on Earth too, Don just couldn’t do it.

  It wasn’t that he seriously doubted that Gatlan would follow through. Thus far, they had kept their word, and had been even more supportive than the three marines had in return. Gatlan was desperate, which was why they were willing to give the marines everything they wanted in return for comparatively little.

  No, what he doubted was whether there was any point left to this mission at all. It had been a month, and given how everything had gone to hell in the space of a couple of days, the chances of there being anything left of Earth were slim to none. They were continuing on because they didn’t have anything else, and giving up would be admitting defeat. Something none of them were willing, or able, to face.

  Up ahead, Don heard movement, the sound of footsteps and the crunching of dirt. He immediately crouched down beside the nearest tree. The undergrowth was thick in front of him, a large bush of greenery, hiding his position. He breathed as shallowly as he could.

  The tree branches in front of him swayed, and first one knight appeared, then another. They had their swords in hand and were looking around, likely a scout patrol. Don shrank closer to the tree and hoped that they wouldn’t come his way. They were wearing Sintiya tabards, which made them acceptable targets, but two against one, when he was the one, weren’t odds he liked. Especially because he didn’t know how close their friends were. If he shot them, it would bring every knight in the vicinity running.

  Fortune wasn’t on his side. Right before he would be spotted, Don surged to his feet and lunged forward. He grabbed the first knight’s sword arm and whirled, swinging the sword out in an arc. It missed the second knight’s neck by inches. Don slammed his knee into the knight’s elbow, trying to disarm him, but the armor shielded the nerves and it probably hurt him more than the knight.

  By this point, he had lost the element of surprise. The second knight lunged forward, the tip of his sword aiming for Don’s heart. Don twisted again, still holding the first knight, and got him in the way of the sword strike. The strike glanced off the armor, scratching it but causing no damage.

  “Shit,” Don swore.

  This was as bad as fighting those suited aliens, which gave him an idea. They had defeated those by tearing off their masks and shooting them in the face. These knights weren’t wearing their helmets; it was the obvious easy weak spot. Don let go of the knight and staggered backwards.

  Don drew his Ka-Bar knife, dodged the whistling sword that would have decapitated him, feinted left, and jabbed his knife in the first knight’s neck. Blood sprayed in an arc, and the knight clutched at his ruined throat, gurgling and gasping.

  “Attack! Attack!” the second knight yelled.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Don muttered.

  He stepped around the dying knight and was forced to dive to the ground to avoid another sword swipe. Don rolled to the side to avoid a downward strike, the tip of the sword striking the dirt. He twisted to his knees, now behind the knight, and lunged, grabbing the knight’s head and slicing his throat. The knight collapsed to the ground. He would be joining his comrade in death within minutes.

  From behind him, Don heard the sound of running knights. He swore again. He had hoped to avoid a confrontation. That was why he hadn’t used his rifle, which would have made the encounter much easier and far more one-sided. He started running, careful over the uneven ground. Hopefully they would soon forget all about this once the battle started, and they wouldn’t cut him off from the ridge.

  They had passed through this area before, and while a lot of this land looked the same, they had been able to recall this patch of ground. It was a large grass clearing, unusual because it didn’t seem to be cleared for agriculture. Perhaps it had been in the past, but now it was just a large field.

  The ridge on the right was the best overlook position, over the clearing where the battle would take place. Thankfully there were no villages in the vicinity of today’s battle, just farmland. Losing crops would hurt the harvest, but it hopefully wouldn’t kill any innocent civilians outright.

  Don kept running and the sounds of pursuit faded behind him. He slowed up the moment he couldn’t hear pounding footsteps anymore, and took a few deep breaths, dropping to a fast regulation march. Speed and maneuverability had won the day over armor and numbers.

  Hopefully now advanced weaponry would win the battle for Gatlan, exactly how King Oswald hoped it would. There was nothing like the sniper rifle in this world; it should turn the battle into a rout and Gatlan would emerge victorious. What that would do for the greater war was beyond their remit.

  King Oswald better not argue about how much they’d done for this quest, like he had with the quest to sabotage Sintiya’s supplies. He had agreed to their tactics this time, and Don really wasn’t in the mood to take any more crap. He was done with doin
g favors for these kingdoms and them jerking them around. They had a planet to save.

  Don circled around and began marching back towards the ridge. He looked at the sun in the sky. He’d better hurry; he needed to get into position and identify his targets early on. There was no point in extending the battle longer than necessary. He needed to wait until they were fully engaged, but that was all. No more of Gatlan’s forces needed to die than was necessary, however despicable some of them might be.

  He wondered how Leo and Nick were faring at Gatlan’s base camp. Don looked at his watch and corrected himself—they probably weren’t there yet. He picked up his pace and kept marching. A few minutes later, the trees started to thin out and he corrected his course; he was too far north of the ridge. Soon he was opposite, with only open space between him and his chosen position.

  There was nobody in sight, but with damn trees everywhere on this world, that was something of a relative assessment. He was concealed within the wood, which meant a whole army could be concealed. All they would need is one archer and he would be toast, he would never even hear the arrow fly.

  There were two reasons why a sniper rifle beat an archer, why he needed to do this mission and not any of King Oswald’s own men. First, arrows might be silent, but they were slow. If soldiers were vigilant, they could raise shields and the arrows would never hit their target. Arrows also had a much shorter range than the rifle. Don could take a shot from half a mile away; the maximum accurate distance of a bow and arrow was fifty yards, around eighteen times less than the rifle.

  That was why he could take a position on this ridge, a long way from the battle further down in the valley, and take the shot over Gatlan’s position, and hit Sintiya’s commanders way on the other side. They would never see that coming.

  Cautiously, Don started to jog over to the ridge. He tensed, but nothing happened, and he dropped gratefully to the ground, crawling up to the ridge edge on his stomach. There was quite the swell of humanity down in the clearing below. The two sides were gathering but hadn’t clashed yet. He shook his head at the medieval nature of it all; it truly felt like he’d fallen into a movie.