Forged in Fire (Delos Series Book 3)

by Lindsay McKenna

  “It’s okay,” Matt said, his voice thick with drowsiness as he laid his hand on her shoulder.

  “You slept half an hour.” Dara gave him a worried look as he rubbed his eyes and crouched down near Hadi’s shoulder.

  “I feel better,” Matt said, his voice rough. “He’s looking good.” He switched to Pashto to speak to Hadi.

  “Hadi, I’m Aslan. I found you out on the mountain a few hours ago. Your goats are fine. They’re here in the cave.” Instantly, Matt saw the boy’s face sag with relief.

  “My goats. They are truly safe?” he squeaked, his voice high and hoarse.

  Matt smiled and nodded. “Forty of them. Is that right?”

  “Yes, forty.” Hadi pulled his hand, a sock still around it, from beneath the sleeping bag, pressing it to his heart. “Thank Allah for that.”

  “Indeed,” Matt agreed. “You’ve got a broken ankle.” He gestured toward it. “You fell in the blizzard?”

  Hadi grimaced and licked his chapped lower lip. “Yes … an icy rock beneath the snow. I-I didn’t see it.”

  “Are you thirsty? Hungry?” Matt knew he had to be.

  “Yes, Sahib Aslan, I am.”

  “Let me help you sit up. We’ll take it slow. Try not to move your right leg.”

  Nodding, Hadi reached out, gripping Matt’s large hand, which swallowed his up. Matt placed his other arm behind the boy’s shoulders and slowly eased him upright.

  “Dara? Can you get Hadi a bottle of water? And dig around in my ruck for a breakfast MRE for him, please.”

  She nodded and slowly stood up.

  Hadi stared up at her. “She is your wife, sahib?”

  “Yes,” Matt lied, keeping his arm around Hadi’s small shoulders. “She is a doctor. Her name is Dara.”

  Giving him a confused look, he asked, “You are Americans? Yes?”

  “Yes. What village are you from?” Matt held his breath, hoping against hope that this kid was from the friendly one.

  “Turani.”

  Nodding, relieved, Matt took the plastic water bottle from Dara and opened it. “Good, that’s where we’re heading. Take the socks off your hands.”

  Hadi smiled a little, pulling them off and tucking them in the lap of the sleeping bag.

  “Here, drink all you want.” Matt slipped the water into the boy’s waiting hands.

  Hadi was shaky, but it was because he was thirsty and hungry. Dara handed Matt the MRE, and once he was sure Hadi could sit up on his own, he sat down beside him and opened it.

  “I need to take his temperature,” Dara said. “Can you tell him what I need to do?”

  Matt nodded and quickly imparted the information. It was obvious Hadi had never seen blond hair, because as Dara moved to his other side, smiling gently down at him, he was mesmerized by her.

  Matt opened the MRE and gave her an amused look. “Hadi’s never seen blond hair before. That’s why he’s staring at you openmouthed.” He smiled when he heard Dara’s light laugh.

  “I see. Thanks for telling me.” She touched her mussed hair after taking his ear temperature. “I wish I had a brush … His temperature is ninety-seven point six. Almost there. It’s a good sign of how strong he is,” she said.

  “Good. We needed some luck.”

  Dara gave him a keen look but said nothing, placing the thermometer back into his ruck.

  “Come and sit on the other side of him. He’ll feel better,” Matt urged.

  Dara returned and slowly sat down, keeping her one knee straight, not wanting to pull at those stitches. “What now?”

  “I want him to eat,” Matt said.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked, holding his dark, exhausted gaze. “Do we leave here or stay here?”

  “No, we can’t stay.” Matt looked at his watch. It was 0300. “In another hour, we need to leave when it’s dark. We can’t afford to have the Taliban find us.”

  “Are we going to that village, Turani?”

  “Yes.” He handed Hadi a pack with heated eggs in it and a fork, explaining what it was. The boy eagerly grabbed the plastic bag and began to spoon the eggs into his mouth. Hadi had never had eggs, Matt guessed, but he gulped them down, gratitude written all over his face.

  Dara’s heart melted as she watched the boy gobble everything in that MRE in less than five minutes, no matter how hot it was. When Matt handed him the next food pouch, he grabbed it, dipped his head, and shoveled the food into his mouth in gulps. He wasn’t even chewing it!

  She glanced at Matt and saw the emotions banked in his eyes as he watched the boy eat. “I’ve never been to a third-world country aside from coming over here once a year,” she admitted, pained. “We were always in Kabul. I thought the kids there were in bad shape, but Hadi … He’s starving. You saw his rib cage.”

  He reached across Hadi, placing his hand on her slumped shoulder. “The world is full of children like him, Dara. The village we’re going to is always on the brink of starvation. The place sits at five thousand feet and the only way it survives is because of these goats. That’s why Hadi was so concerned about his herd. If he lost even one goat, that would be terrible. Each goat can literally mean a family living or dying in a given year.” He squeezed her shoulder. “These are hardy people, and they’re survivors.”

  “How far is it to Turani?”

  “About two miles down the slope. I’m hoping Hadi can guide us. Even though three feet of snow has fallen, the goats can smell their path, and goats are damned smart. They know every path on this mountain. That’s how that lead nanny got this herd of hers into this cave. She knows her territory.”

  “That’s simply amazing,” Dara admitted, shaking her head.

  Matt took the empty pouches from Hadi’s lap and handed him a second bottle of water. The child gulped it down and emptied it.

  “Look,” Hadi said, pushing back the sleeping bag, pointing to his belly. “Now I look like a squash.”

  Matt grinned. The child’s belly stuck out. Probably for the first time in his young life. “Did you like the food?”

  “Very much, sahib. Thank you. Allah bless you both.”

  “Thank you. How is your ankle feeling? Are you in pain?”

  He frowned and stared down at his leg beneath the cover. “It aches, sahib, but that is all.”

  “Good.” Matt put the MRE packages and empty bottles into his opened ruck, which sat near him. “Now we need your help, Hadi.”

  Instantly, the boy brightened. “Yes. Anything, Sahib Aslan. How may I be of help to you and your wife?”

  “How far is your village from this cave?” He knew the boy wouldn’t know miles or kilometers.

  “If it was not snowing, it would take me an hour to reach it, sahib,” he said, suddenly serious.

  “Would your lead goat know how to find the path, even with snow hiding it?”

  He laughed, flashing them a smile. “Of course. Mama Goat is old, and she is very smart. She will lead the herd back to the village.”

  Matt nodded. He looked over at Dara. “I’ve got a plan, and I’m going to tell it to him and see what he says.”

  “What’s the plan?” Dara asked, giving him a wry look. “I’d like to know, too.”

  “You’re the first to know,” he said. “I’m going to have to carry Hadi on my back. I can’t carry my ruck, too. It’s just too much weight. And I can’t leave it here.”

  “I can carry it,” Dara volunteered.

  “I worry about your knee. If you slip or fall with that sixty-five-pound pack on your back, Dara, you could really injure yourself.”

  Shrugging, she said, “Then I’ll be careful. Besides, I’m a belly dancer. I have better torso and muscle control than anyone. I’ll watch my step and be careful. I promise.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding. “This isn’t something I want to do, but you can’t carry Hadi, either.”

  “No, you do that. You know Pashto and you can talk to him.”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his beard. “We’ll put M
ama Goat, the lead nanny, in the front. Then I want you right behind her. The rest of the herd will just naturally follow her back to the village. I’d estimate, roughly, that Turani is about two miles down the mountain at five thousand feet.”

  “Where will you and Hadi be?”

  “In the rear. Goats will wander if we don’t have someone driving them from the rear, keeping them tight and close together.”

  “But …” Dara’s voice faltered, thick with sudden worry. “Isn’t that putting a target on both your backs? If the Taliban see us, they’ll see you two first.”

  “I’m hoping not,” Matt hedged. “That’s why we’re leaving in an hour. It’s dark and we can probably make a mile or close to it under cover of darkness. By that time, we’ll be below the curve of this slope. If the Taliban are searching for us and they make the pass, they won’t spot us. We’ll have disappeared into the tree line, which is at six thousand feet, where it’s pretty thick with pines. It will give us even more cover so we can safely make it to that village. Besides, if they see me and Hadi, it won’t look unusual. Sometimes a father will carry his son when herding goats. They’ll see Hadi’s back and his Afghan clothes. I’ll have my rifle in a harness in front of me where they can’t see it.”

  “But if they saw me?”

  “Then that wouldn’t be good. But look, we’ll be off their radar in an hour’s time when we trek down that mountain. They don’t have infrared scopes on their rifles like we do, so they aren’t going to spot us when we leave in the dark.”

  Dara felt a little better, but her stomach was tight with worry. “Who’s to say there aren’t Taliban where we’re heading?”

  Matt shook his head. “No guarantees, Dara. I don’t know. I can’t raise Bagram to ask them for a drone to fly over us so it can see if there are other human beings around or near us.” Everything was so tentative and he knew Dara was highly uncomfortable. Anyone in their right mind would be.

  He tried to see things from her perspective because for him, this was business as usual, nothing to get upset about. You always had to expect that the enemy was nearby. But Dara wasn’t trained for this, and Matt had to pull his punches and give her just enough information so she wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

  “Could you ask Hadi if he’s seen Taliban lately where he herds his goats?” she suddenly suggested.

  He smiled. “Brilliant thought. Hold on one second while I ask.” Matt felt proud of her. She might have been scared, but she was thinking, and that’s what he needed right now. He asked Hadi.

  “No, no Taliban. Sorosh, our chief, has an agreement with them. They are not allowed onto our tribal land. I saw no one yesterday before the snow fell.”

  “Good.” Matt nodded. He told Dara and saw instant relief come to her eyes.

  “And once we make it to the village, what then?” she asked.

  “I’m going to try my radio and my sat phone. I doubt I can raise Bagram with the radio because we’re on the wrong side of the mountain. But I’m going to try my sat phone and see if I can get a link now that the storm has passed.”

  “I never realized how bad communications were out here.”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. What do you expect?”

  He heard laughter catch in her throat. “But satellites are always passing overhead, aren’t they?” she said.

  “Yes, and Turani sits in a bowl with the mountains surrounding it.” Matt didn’t want to dash her hopes. “Let’s get there and I’ll give it a try.”

  “What if you can’t raise Bagram?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Matt said, trying to keep his voice light and unworried. “One step at a time, Dara.”

  *

  Dara followed Mama Goat down through the snow, which in some places came up to her knees. The heavy ruck was balanced on her back and she wore Matt’s infrared goggles so she could see where she was placing her booted feet. The goats bleated now and then, and two of them crowded up past her to reach the lead nanny. The path seemed fairly smooth beneath the snow and there were far fewer rocks from what Dara could tell.

  The tinkling of Mama Goat’s bell calmed her for some reason. Everything was black, except for the stars sparkling like glittering diamonds strewn across the sky above her head. The moon was in the west now, and below the summit above them. Still, it shed some light, and Dara was grateful.

  She held her gloved hand out slightly from her body, balancing herself with every step. Her breath came and went in white mists. The pack weighed heavily on her, and she could feel the throb in her knee beneath its stitches. Her boots often hit small rocks hidden under the snow, pitching her slightly right or left. Instantly, Dara’s arms would come out to rebalance her. Above all, she did not want to fall, which would be disastrous.

  For once, she was glad the night surrounded them. It scared her that the Taliban could find them. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and she hurried along because Mama Goat was a fast walker. The animal knew exactly where she was going, even if Dara didn’t have X-ray vision to find the path beneath the snow.

  Matt had told her not to look back to check on them. She had to keep moving forward as fast as the lead goat would go. The faster they made this first mile downward, the safer they became from prying enemy eyes.

  The boy seemed absolutely delighted to ride piggyback on Matt. Dara had tucked him in with the small wool blanket, ensuring he would be kept warm. His clothes had not fully dried yet, but he had Matt’s body heat, so he would be fine for this short transit.

  The trail dipped down, making a long curve into some evergreens. Dara breathed easier, wanting badly to leave nine thousand feet in altitude. Her body, lungs, and heart were simply not able to handle it. As she rounded the long, sloping curve, she listened to the wind singing through the pines. It felt soothing to her.

  If she hadn’t felt so fearful, she would have thought this area ruggedly beautiful. The moonlight had created deep, dark shadows and above her were sharp, craggy peaks that embraced them on three sides.

  As the curve straightened, Dara slowed, finding herself suddenly on a thousand-foot cliff. She froze for a moment and then pushed herself to move. There were no guardrails. The path narrowed to about two feet wide. On her right was a steep cliff rising above her, and on her left, the thousand-foot drop. The wind gusted through here and she tensed, not wanting to be thrown off the cliff by the wind. Why hadn’t she joined the Girl Scouts? She knew Callie would easily have sniffed at this challenge as if it were nothing.

  Dara had always been a bit nervous about heights, so she purposely refused to look at the cliff side. Her stomach in knots now, she saw that the snow was lessening. That was good. Mama Goat dipped down out of sight, so Dara knew there had to be a fairly steep drop-off on the path in front of her.

  She eased up to it, wary and watchful. Sure enough, it was steep. Carefully, Dara placed her boots sideways to help stop her from sliding down out of control. Arms out, she balanced the ruck and her body, using all those belly-dancing muscles in her core to remain strong and steady.

  In a minute, she was past the worst of it. The goats behind her were nimble and jumped or leaped the distance as if it were nothing. So much for the advantages of two legs.

  By the time Dara saw gray light on the eastern horizon, the snow was only a foot deep. It was warmer now, too. They were in another grove of evergreens and she liked the wall because it felt protective. All the goats were following close on her heels, and she forced herself not to look back.

  Dara’s breathing was harsh as she worked to keep up with Mama, who was disappearing around another curve. The fact that the goat knew where this path was stunned Dara. She couldn’t tell where it was at all. Shoulders aching from the weight of the pack, she wondered how Matt managed to carry it and still perform his other duties on a patrol.

  Suddenly, the slope widened out and Dara halted, squinting. There, no more than a quarter mile away, farther down on a rocky
hill peppered with evergreens, sat a small village. She could see whiffs of smoke coming from the low, single-story mud buildings. There had to be at least fifty of them. They were built along the curve of what appeared to be a small meadow. In the center was a stream, looking black against the white snow surrounding it.

  The goats rushed past her, galloping merrily as if they didn’t have a care in the world, catching up with their intrepid leader. Dara turned and saw Matt carrying Hadi. She pushed the infrared goggles up on her head and flicked them off. Matt had a pair of NVGs and he, too, pushed them up. She could see the sweat gleaming against his skin.

  Hadi looked happy, craning his neck around Matt’s head, pointing excitedly at his village. His high, hoarse voice broke the silence of the night.

  As Matt came up and halted beside Dara, he shifted Hadi, who held his long, thin arms around Matt’s neck. “How are you doing?” he asked her.

  “Okay,” Dara lied. “Is that Turani?” She pointed toward the village.

  “Yes. What a sight for sore eyes,” Matt said, giving her a slight grin. “Can you make it the rest of the way?”

  “Sure. How are you holding up?”

  “Well, I’m tired of being a packhorse,” he grunted, giving her a wink. “Just follow the goat tracks.”

  Dara turned and saw the forty goats running into the village. She saw no one outside. There were a few windows in some of the mud homes, and one had some pale light shining out of it. Was it a candle? There was no electricity out here that she could see.

  She continued her careful steps down the muddy, snowy path. As they got to the edge of the village, she saw a short man in dark brown robes step out of his house. He wore a rolled hat on his head, his salt-and-pepper beard long down his narrow chest. He was older, his face deeply shadowed and wrinkled. Dara saw a woman peek out the opened door, staring at them.

  Matt called to Dara to stop.

  He came up. “That’s the chieftain of the village, Sorosh,” he told her. “Let me talk with him. I’ll take the lead now.”

  Nodding, she allowed Matt past her. Hadi gave her a happy grin and said something in Pashto, his little voice vibrating with happiness. Dara smiled up at him. Soon, his worried parents would have him back. The thought brought tears to her eyes. Despite Hadi’s harrowing brush with death, the child had bounced back and was now smiling, his dark eyes shining with joy, patting Matt’s shoulder.