Ranger

by William Stacey

  "They shall die, Wolf. Count on it. And make no mistake—this battle was my victory, not yours. I command. You are nothing more than an advisor."

  Valentin kept his expression neutral. Years of service in the queen's court had instilled in him the need to keep his cool. "It is your command and your victory, my highness. I seek only to help, to serve your mother's glory."

  The mention of her mother was a subtle jab, a reminder he served the queen, not her, and her mother would be ill disposed toward her daughter if she overstepped herself with Wolf, her prized manling warlord. When Valentin and his men came through the rift six years, ago, fleeing the volcano, the queen had been losing her war. That changed with Valentin's help—but the losses to Valentin's forces, so many dead, and so little ammo remaining, had been appalling. When we're no longer of any use, what then? That question kept him up most nights.

  "Your highness, the Americans are beaten. Whatever they were trying to accomplish, they can't do it now. We have them trapped in the jungle. Let them stew. In a few weeks, maybe a month or two, they will have to surrender."

  She barked with laughter. "A month or two? I think not. We'll pursue them. We fae seelie have eyes everywhere."

  Valentin acknowledged her with a nod. "As you will, Your Highness."

  Kaladania glanced at the prisoners where Dominika was healing them. "Your little pet mage wastes her time."

  "It is our way, Your Highness. Besides, I thought perhaps—"

  "No. They go to my mother and the torturers' knives."

  Valentin fought down his anger, knowing what was at stake here. He inhaled deeply, noting her eyes gleefully watching him. The bitch was trying to provoke a reaction from him, but she was too stupid and inept to succeed. Besides, as cruel as Queen Tuatha de Talinor could be, she was not wasteful. Despite Kaladania's words, the prisoners were at little risk of torture. Grimworms, however…

  "Whatever you think is best, Your Highness." Valentin bowed once again.

  Disappointment flashed through her eyes. "Ready your manling warriors, Wolf." She spun and stalked off, head held high.

  Dimmi waited until she was out of sight then led the mounts back to Valentin. "Well?"

  "You were right. She is a purple-assed bitch," he whispered.

  His aide chuckled then handed Valentin a metal flask.

  Valentin opened it and sipped from it, choking on the homemade vodka. "God's love, Dimmi, that tastes like ass."

  Dimmi took his flask back, a hurt look on his face. "The things you say to me, they're hurtful." He sipped from his flask and screwed the lid back. "You see what passes for potatoes on this world?"

  "You know, Dimmi, all my life, I trained to fight the Americans. Now… now I wonder who our enemies truly are. At least the Americans are the same species as us."

  "There's always the suitcase," Dimmi whispered.

  A chill ran down Valentin's spine, and he shook his head. "Not yet. With God's love, never."

  34

  When Ylra asked Gevn Ap to take the Strike Force and their wounded back to his village, he did so without a word of complaint. Alex disliked putting his people at risk just as much as Ylra, but Huck had no choice. The mission always came first.

  The return trip carrying the wounded took just over a day. They stopped only when essential, usually for a few hours of sleep. The pace was grueling but necessary. No one knew if the dark elves were preparing to attack again. As Dr. Ireland had warned, three of the wounded died along the way.

  Huck left two sections of infantry behind as a rear guard, and Alex and Leela stayed with them. During the forced march, they saw no sign of pursuit, but at least three large feline creatures trailed them, no doubt smelling the blood of the wounded. None of the jungle cats came close, though, and every time Alex tried to set a trap, the creatures vanished—Gevn Ap's blink-jaguars, most likely.

  Late in the night of the second day, the exhausted soldiers straggled into the outskirts of the redcap village. There, Tang Ap and his people met them. When he saw the wounded, Tang Ap ordered the other redcaps to help. They moved the four remaining injured soldiers into his hut, where a handful of his redcap women helped Dr. Ireland and her medic tend to them. Dr. Ireland took blood from volunteers, the only commodity of which they weren't short.

  In front of the chieftain's hut, Huck stood with Martinez, Ylra, Tang Ap, and the other elders. Once again, Ylra translated for the others. Huck motioned Alex over.

  "How can I help?" he asked.

  Huck glanced at the chieftain. "Tang Ap sent scouts to watch for signs of dark-elf pursuit but so far nothing."

  "Thank you," Alex said in Empire Common to the elder.

  Tang Ap looked uneasy but inclined his head. "Our magic works in harmony with the land and the beasts of the jungle. We are not mages, manling. If the fae seelie hide themselves, we will never find them. You and your people cannot stay here."

  The other elders murmured in approval, nodding.

  "We'll be on our way as soon as our gateway crystal recharges—a week, no more," Huck said in Empire Common.

  Tang Ap shook his head. "This is not possible, not now. The fae will know you are here. They are accomplished scouts. We can't hide so many of you."

  "We have no choice," insisted Alex. "Our wounded will die if we move. And we have no way across the river."

  The other elders whispered among themselves in their own language. Tang Ap listened to them then argued with one white-haired redcap with skin so wrinkled he must have been on the near side of a hundred years.

  "What are they saying?" Alex asked Ylra.

  "Not sure. Something about a lake under the Spine of the Serpent, an underground river cave system of some type."

  "A cave system?" asked Huck. "If there's another way past the cliffs and into the Char Desert, why does Tang Ap look so unhappy?"

  "I was wondering just that," Ylra said.

  Tang Ap's argument with his elders ended, giving Alex the impression Tang Ap had lost. He turned to Huck, speaking once more in Empire Common. "There is another route, a secret route known only to our people."

  "Go on," Huck said.

  "Near to here, there is a headland where a branch of the Serpent-Tongue River spills into the river, joining it."

  A waterfall, Alex realized.

  "But the spill covers a cave complex, an underground river that winds its way beneath the Spine of the Serpent," continued Tang Ap. "The river leads to a great cavern with a wide black lake. In this lake sits a vast rock, a holy place to my people. The rock is high and reaches near the top of the cavern, where a crack in the stone leads up. There are ropes, a way to climb to the surface. You will come out on the other side of the Spine, within the Char Desert."

  "Why?" asked Alex. "What purpose does this path serve, and why not tell us of it earlier?"

  Tang Ap sighed, his face filled with angst. "This cavern is holy to us. It is the path we take when too old to hunt or fish. Those who do not wish to burden their families undertake this sacred journey into the Char. They do not return."

  "I understand," said Alex. "We will honor your beliefs, but we must use this path to reach the desert. We will leave it exactly as we found it."

  Tang Ap's eyes tightened with sorrow. "There is another reason we did not tell you of this way earlier," he whispered, staring sadly at Alex. "One that shames us. None of my people has traveled this holy path in over two cycles, not since the water dragon discovered the lake and made it into its lair."

  Alex closed his eyes and nodded, sighing. Of course there was a dragon between them and their mission.

  "There is always a chance," said Tang Ap, "that the dragon will be away, hunting Gesh ants." To Alex's ear, it sounded more like wishful thinking.

  Huck sighed. "I'd rather risk another dragon than try to fight our way past both the Russians and a dark-elf army. How do we get there?"

  "We can ferry you in our canoes," said Tang Ap. "But we won't be able to carry more than one of you in each cano
e, and there are only thirty-four canoes in the village."

  "We'll figure something out," said Alex. "You have fishing nets?"

  "We do, but why?"

  "Later," said Ylra. "For now, tell us about this water dragon. I've never heard of such a thing, but I know damned little of dragons. There are few who do."

  "I know someone who does," Alex said.

  "There's no such thing as a water dragon," Veraxia said with a puzzled look, glancing at Alex then Ylra, Tang Ap, Huck, Liv, and Leela.

  "That's what I was thinking, but I'm no expert," said Ylra.

  "The beast is real," insisted Tang Ap. "I've seen it myself."

  "Describe it," said Veraxia, her eyes narrowing with interest.

  "As large as a hut, black and slimy, with seven foul heads, each atop a long, snakelike neck. It is a stinking, angry beast," said Tang Ap gravely. "The heads whip about, snarling and biting. Each sharp fang is a dagger. And its spit melts flesh from bone. But worst of all, the dragon is blessed by the jungle gods who protect it from wounds."

  "What do you mean?" Alex asked.

  "When the water dragon first found the underground lake, a mighty basilisk had already claimed the jungle as its own. When the beasts finally clashed, the jungle held its breath. I saw the battle. Three times, the basilisk used its death gaze, turning three of the water dragon's heads to stone, but the water dragon still conquered, spitting death upon the basilisk with its remaining heads. Weeks later, when the dragon emerged again from its lair, the heads had grown back whole and unhurt."

  "Well," said Veraxia, smiling, "that makes more sense. It's not a dragon. It's a hydra."

  "Is that… better?" Alex asked.

  "Define better," Veraxia said. "Hydras are dangerous, but they're not invulnerable. The problem is that the heads grow back. The only way to kill one is to destroy all seven heads at once… or puncture its heart. That would work."

  "But?" asked Alex.

  Veraxia shrugged. "The heart is underwater with the rest of its body, so one usually only sees the heads and necks. You could wait for it to come on land to hunt, but that could be days or weeks, depending on the last time it fed."

  "Wait," said Leela, looking at Liv. "Your strength is telekinesis, right? Can you lift it out of the water?"

  Liv bit her lip and shook her head. "My skill is with pinpoint precision, directing small darts, not lifting creatures bigger than elephants. My personal best is only about five hundred pounds."

  Leela swore, and Alex squeezed her shoulder. "It was a good idea."

  "Grandmother's hairy tits," said Ylra. "A hydra? At least it's not a dragon."

  "Huck's killed a dragon," Alex told Ylra. "Bale-Fire. I'm sure we can handle a hydra."

  Veraxia's gaze snapped to Huck as she brazenly studied the other woman. "How?"

  "With a laser pointer and a very expensive artillery shell, neither of which I have now. We can discuss this later, but I want to move tomorrow night."

  "We're going to do this?" Alex asked.

  "Not much choice," she answered. "We can't stay here without risking the villagers, and it's the only way past the cliffs to Deep Terlingas. If we stay, we'll be in another gunfight, one we can't win."

  "I sorry, but I can't go with you," Dr. Ireland told Huck. She wore bloody surgical gloves and a facemask, with the mask now hanging around her neck.

  "I wasn't asking, Doctor," Huck snapped. "That's not how this works."

  Alex, helping Leela tie water containers to a large fishing net, stopped to listen as the women argued outside the door to the chieftain's hut. First Sergeant Martinez hovered near Huck's side.

  It was noon the day after they had fled back to the village, with most of the soldiers now fed and rested and working on the rafts and fishing nets the canoes would drag behind them.

  The water containers, dozens of small tree-resin-lined bamboo jugs, held the only water the Strike Force would have as they crossed the desert. Alex and the other soldiers had been fixing the water jugs and a series of homemade flotation devices to the redcaps' fishing nets. Nearby, along the shoreline, other soldiers secured rucksacks and other supplies to other nets. If they had enough flotation devices, the nets and rucksacks would float. If not, they'd have to try something else.

  "Doesn't sound like she's too happy with the doc," Leela said.

  "I'll be right back," he said to his wife. When he approached Huck and Dr. Ireland, First Sergeant Martinez frowned at him.

  "Everything all right?" Alex asked.

  Neither woman looked at him.

  Dr. Ireland, looking unhappy but resolute, spoke to Huck. "I'm not trying to be difficult. I understand you have to go, but we can't move the wounded, and I can't leave them."

  "You can't stay here, Doctor. Tang Ap wants us gone."

  "Ylra has spoken to him for me," Dr. Ireland said. "He's willing to hide me and the four wounded but no more."

  "This is a bad idea, Doctor," Huck said, her lips a tight line. "And I don't recall telling Ylra she could ask anyone anything."

  "I made her," the doctor said. "Be angry with me."

  "You're putting me in a hell of a spot, Doctor. I can't leave people behind—leave more people behind. We can drag the wounded on a raft."

  "We can't," said the physician. "They'll die. I promise you that. Go. Find this dwarven city, and when the gateway rig recharges, come back for us."

  "What if the dark elves come first?" Huck asked.

  "She's right," Alex interjected.

  "I'm a doctor, a noncombatant."

  Huck rolled her eyes. "The dark elves aren't a signatory to the Geneva Conventions. They won't care."

  "If we move those patients, they will die. I can't leave them."

  "What about what I need, what the rest of us need? You're our only doctor."

  "You'll still have Specialist Flannors. She's a superb field medic, and you have the two mag-sens."

  "We're going to have to leave the war rig behind, anyhow," Alex said.

  "Really?" Huck asked, turning to Martinez for confirmation.

  The large senior noncommissioned officer nodded. "Major Benoit's right, ma'am. The war rig is too heavy to float. Besides, Ylra thinks the gun will still jam when hot. Needs an all-new ejection bolt."

  "Shit," Huck swore. "What about Long Bow's rig?"

  "Ylra's trying to lighten it," Martinez said. "She's removing the armor plating and whatever else she can, but even that might not be feasible."

  "Make it feasible," Huck said. "If we have to, we'll carry it, but we'll need it when we come back for the doctor and her charges in a week."

  Relief flitted across Dr. Ireland's features. "Thank you, Major."

  "Just stay alive, Doc." Huck stalked away, with Martinez at her heels.

  Alex watched the physician. "Best if you stay inside as much as possible."

  She nodded, tightness in her eyes. "Know it."

  Braver than I am, he thought as he returned to help with the nets.

  They left the village late that night, with clouds blocking Faerum's two moons. Over thirty dugout canoes pulled away from the village, the oars wrapped in cloth to muffle their noise. The first dozen canoes each carried a soldier with a Tac rifle and a redcap villager, while the other canoes, each with two redcap paddlers, dragged a half dozen fishing nets from which hung the rest of the Strike Force, seventy men and women. They had removed most of their gear—including their helmets, boots, weapons, and load-bearing vests—and tied it to the floating fishing nets with their rucksacks and the two stinger launchers and half dozen missiles they could carry. The rest, including all the heavy general-purpose machine guns, they had to leave hidden in the village with the war rig for later retrieval. They still wore their MR body armor to protect them from rocks in the river. Besides, the magnetorheological fluid made the suits buoyant, like wetsuits. A single canoe, sitting dangerously low in the water, carried Liv's stripped-down gateway rig.

  Alex, traveling in the first canoe with Gevn
Ap, used his helmet's night-vision mode to scan the jungle on their left-hand side. Gevn Ap guided the canoe along the current, steering only when necessary. Leela, Huck, Lee, Martinez, Ylra, Liv, and five of the best shooters sat in the other canoes. These five soldiers also carried collapsible M72 LAWs—light anti-tank weapons—one-shot 66mm unguided missiles. They wouldn't do much damage underwater, but if they hit anything the hydra exposed, they'd rip it apart.

  And that, such as it was, was the plan. The lead canoes covered those in the water, hanging onto the nets. Between the shooters, the two mag-sens, and the anti-tank weapons, Alex thought they had a reasonable chance to drive away the hydra if it attacked.

  Tang Ap, who paddled Huck's canoe, promised they'd reach the underground river entrance within two hours, and Alex watched the village huts recede behind them. A single figure stood atop the pier, watching them leave.

  "Hang in there, Doc," Alex whispered. "We'll be back."

  Terlissandia, cloaked in magic and standing along the riverbank, watched as the flotilla of canoes drifted past. After six cycles of civil war, little surprised the mage-scout, but even she hadn't expected to see so many manlings hauled down the river by the redcaps, hanging onto fishing nets. She smiled and shook her head in wonder. They've become desperate if they think to sneak past us. She slipped away from the riverbank.

  35

  Alex scanned the jungle as the current carried them downriver. The air was moist with a light fog, its tendrils stretching across the water. The steep rock face of the Spine towered over them on their right, so high it blocked out the stars. Only the occasional roar of a blink-jaguar broke the silence of the night. Despite not having any night-vision devices, Gevn Ap and the other redcaps kept the flotilla in the deep center of the river, using slow strokes to keep them on course.

  In places, the river narrowed, and when that happened, the current sped up, pushing them dangerously fast. Each time, Alex's pulse raced for fear someone's canoe would be smashed against the Spine or those hanging from the nets would be dashed against rocks, but the redcaps navigated their way with remarkable skill.