by Guy Antibes
“I’ll mark the wards well,” Sam said. “When the thick pollen layer degrades, the ward beneath might still be active before it degrades on its own.”
Using this technique, Sam walked at a more normal pace. He found his ability to detect wards also increased with practice. Finally, they stood in sight of the camp.
“I will have to go in first,” Sam said, “I have to neutralize all the wards, and since I have Greto’s authorization, I will pass myself off as the assassin to see if they have warders.”
“What if someone recognizes you?” Desmon said.
“Who is going to do that? The only soldiers I know in Kreb’s army were friends at the university,” Sam said.
He continued to walk his horse toward the flickering lights of campfires and the more steady lights of lanterns. A final string of wards blocked his path, but Sam covered them and took care to mark where they were. He hadn’t gone very much farther before a sentry called out to him.
“You there! Stop in the name of the Dictator!”
“Viktar Kreb!” Sam called back. “I am a special agent of the Intelligence Agency and have just returned from a job. I’m hungry, so let me through!”
Sam walked closer as the two sentries who held out pikes and unshuttered their lanterns.
“You have proof?”
Sam produced Greto’s papers. “I’m an assassin for Vaarek. I just finished an assassination.”
One of the sentries moved his lantern closer to read. It seemed he read the paper again and looked out into the darkness. “How did you get past the wards?”
Sam grinned. “I’m an assassin, aren’t I?” He said it as if being an assassin answered every question imaginable.
“You should report to Captain Ballkunk. He’s in the center of the camp.”
Sam gave the men a casual Vaarekian salute and walked past them, his palms wet from the tension he felt. Now that he was in the camp, he had to quickly see how many warders they faced.
The one thing Dickey Nail had always told him was to act confident, something Sam had had a hard time doing three years ago, but it wasn’t so hard now. He listened to the soldiers talking, but he didn’t pick up a thing. He had always thought that spies would hear all sorts of juicy information just by strolling through the camp, but grumbling was all Sam could hear.
He was surprised no one stopped him, He wore civilian clothes, but he had taken Greto’s horse. Sam couldn’t tell the difference between Greto’s mount and the other one he had taken from a Vaarekian soldier when he first entered Zogaz.
Sam reached the taller tents and counted eleven of them, all in a single lane facing each other. They were all empty. Perhaps there was a meeting going on. The ones he saw with flaps open sported one bed. No sharing, and that meant a maximum of eleven warders if none of the tents held officers.
A few soldiers with different uniforms from the soldiers entered the little lane. Two of them were women. Sam suddenly realized that Glory or Tera could have been detached from the unit. He turned to walk away.
“You there,” a familiar female voice called from behind.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said making his voice gruffer, but not turning around.
He heard steps and had to freeze. He couldn’t run in the middle of the camp. Sam kept his face turned away as Glory Wheeler walked up. She walked right around to face him.
“I thought it was you,” she said with a whisper. “Keep going through here to the end of the camp. I will be with you presently, you fool.”
Sam had no choice but to follow Glory’s instructions. He moved back through more disgruntled troops and nearly returned to the spot where he entered the camp.
Minutes seemed like eons, but it couldn’t have been more than a few moments before Sam saw Glory’s diminutive figure stalk through the camp.
“Now what are you doing here? There are teams out trying to kill you!” she said through clenched teeth. Her fists were clenched, and Sam had no doubt why his presence upset her.
“And how do you do, too?” Sam said, shaking his head. “I had to kill one tough assassin to get in here.”
“The one at the roadside inn?”
“You know about him?” Sam asked.
“We all do. He is reportedly Kreb’s best. You killed him, really?”
Sam smiled, but she probably couldn’t see that in the dark. “I have the stitches to prove he was the best swordsman I have ever fought, but I have learned a few tricks since I saw you last.”
“Then you should go back the way you came and get away.”
“I can’t do that,” Sam said. “You don’t know everything. We took out most of the soldiers at the encampment at the village up the road. When word reaches the camp, you will be on the move. You will be the enemy.”
“Am I your enemy?” Glory said.
“Not personally, no,” Sam said. “By the way, where is Tera?”
Glory’s frown looked even worse in the light reflected from the camp. “She died. Kreb’s warders made her decommission a multi-layer ward during field training, but she didn’t pass the test. Too many others didn’t either.”
“You did?” Sam nearly staggered at the news. He had liked the girl, and the shock of imagining her dead hit him hard, but their ward training was dangerous. He remembered Tera saying she wasn’t the best at destroying wards. Such a pity!
“I was always better than she. That was a dark day for me. It still is, truth be told.”
“Come with me,” Sam said. “You don’t have to fight for Kreb.”
After a long pause, Glory said. “You want me to turn traitor?”
“Against who? Kreb wants to rule the world. Can you imagine the kind of world where Kreb owns everyone? He only owns you as long as you let him. Let’s fight against the person who so casually threw Tera away.”
“He did. I know it, but then I’ll be hunted like you are.”
“Or die being ordered to do things that might be beyond your capability like Tera? For whom? For what?”
Glory stood still. “If I leave and join another army, I will be in the same situation, just reversed.”
“Not if you stick with me. At the right time, I’m heading back to Holding. I’ll find a place there.”
“What is the right time?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, but it isn’t right now, not yet, that is all I can say. I have more than enough money,” Sam said. “I can share some with you so you can get established somewhere.”
“Why would you do that for me?” Glory asked.
“For old times’ sake and for Tera’s sake. I feel terrible about her death,” Sam said. “Plus, I have a few secrets that I will share.”
“Like how you got through the troops at the village and the main gate on the road?”
“I didn’t come that way. I came from there.” Sam pointed to the side exit.
Glory looked at the darkness from where Sam arrived at the camp. “You couldn’t. It is warded as thoroughly as any camp in Vaarek.”
Sam smiled. “I said I have secrets. You have to make up your mind quickly.” Sam wanted to tell her the camp was about to be invaded, but he couldn’t do that. He didn’t know if Glory was just playing around before she would betray him.
“I don’t believe it.” She pursed her lips. “Give me a few minutes. If I return with a squad of soldiers, you can run. If I return with a bag in my hand, I will join you.” She paused for a moment, looking off into the darkness. “I still haven’t gotten over losing Tera.”
Sam let her go, but he took the precaution of armoring himself and his horse while he waited. He held two warded blocks of wood in each hand and kept his eyes on the camp. A group of soldiers came from where Glory had gone. He gripped the warded blocks tightly.
Sam was about ready to throw the wards and flee when the column turned to the north, exposing Glory walking behind them with a large bag over her shoulder, letting a lantern’s light lead her on. It was evident she struggled with the weight.
“Let’s go, quickly,” she said.
Sam nodded. “What will be our excuse?”
“We will be checking the wards, and you are protecting me on my maintenance mission.”
“Do your wards degrade that quickly?”
Glory sighed. “Some do. The more complex and thinner the layers, the quicker they go. I still don’t quite believe you, so watch your step.” She exhaled. “What am I doing?” She shook her head, “We will be blown to bits leaving this way.”
“Trust me,” Sam said. He lifted her on the horse and led her out.
The same two sentries stopped them from leaving the camp.
“Maintenance work. Captain Ballkunk decided to put this man to work protecting me out there.” Glory pointed into the darkness with her chin.
“He came this way, so I suppose you will be safe,” one of the soldiers said. They shuttered their lanterns and stepped aside.
“You really did come this way.” Sam detected the wonder in her voice.
Sam nodded. “And I deactivated all the wards. We are currently walking through a triple row of triple-layer wards,” Sam said. “A deadly triple triple.” Sam thought that might be something a Zogazin might say.
“But your horse is walking on the wards.”
“Of course,” Sam said. “Don’t you believe me?”
“But how?”
“It is still a secret, but now that we are out of sight, we are going to detonate a ward to cover our departure. If one goes off, will the others immediately come to investigate?”
“Not at night, not in this ward field. It will be too dangerous.”
“Good. That will be enough time.”
“This is a ward I made,” Sam said. “It will be an excuse for your demise. Do you have a uniform shirt to spare?”
“A ward you made? That is something else I find very hard to believe.” Glory sighed and gave him one of her uniform blouses from her bag. “Is that what you wanted?”
Sam nodded and took his own shirt off and put it by her uniform. “Stand way back and take the horse with you.”
She did as Sam instructed. He didn’t know if his ruse would work, but Sam had no other ideas. He tossed the two wards that he had made on her uniform. The explosion knocked Sam off his feet and made his ears ring. He stood up at the edge of a shallow bowl about fifteen feet across.
“You triggered the wards that were there,” Glory said. “We could have been obliterated.”
Sam shook his head at his foolishness. He was being too creative, and that led to an instance of dangerously bad judgement, but what was done was done. “That was the idea,” he said. “Get back on. Our friends are probably near.”
After a quarter of an hour picking their way along the track that Sam had originally ridden, Desmon’s men stopped them.
“I thought you had destroyed yourself.”
Sam smiled. “As always, that was truer than it should have been. You’ve met Glory Wheeler. She has decided to desert.”
Desmon looked at Glory with suspicion. “You are sure she can be trusted?”
Sam said, “No. But we will give her the chance to prove she has indeed left the evil grasp of Viktar Kreb. She said that Tera Barako was killed in a training accident.”
Desmon nodded. “Glory spoke the truth. Mito was very upset when he heard about it.”
“If you have trouble trusting me, why did you bring me out of the camp?” Glory said to Sam.
Sam could see the anger on her face. “How much do you trust me?”
She softened her glare. “I’ve always trusted you, Sam Smith.”
“Oho!” Desmon said. “Let’s just go by what she just said, Sam. We have to get going, or their defenses will stiffen, and the news might beat us to the camp.”
“News? What news?”
“There isn’t much of a camp in the village, and reinforcements are at our backs. The force is on our side.”
“You really don’t trust me,” Glory said to Sam.
“I didn’t want you in the camp when we attacked. What might have happened to you if you were caught in the conflict? I would do the same for Tera. It isn’t a matter of trust, but of friendship.”
“You care about me?”
“You were a friend, Glory. My only one for a while. Even though you turned your back on me then, I didn’t count it against you. People have betrayed me all the time,” Sam said. “I don’t like deserting friends, but I don’t think I’d mind deserting enemies who have bought me for a few silvers.”
Glory nodded. “So we understand each other and can count each other as friends?”
“For now,” Sam said. He turned to Desmon. “Could you find someone to escort Glory back to the main unit?”
“You don’t want me to fight with you?” Glory said.
“Not if you want to stay dead. We didn’t explode your clothing for nothing, Glory.”
She ground her teeth. “You speak wisdom, Sam Smith. I will hold you to your promise to tell me your secrets.”
Sam smiled. “When I return, if I return.”
“What about you and your death?”
“If the sentries survive the night, they will say that Greto was killed in the minefield along with Glory Wheeler.”
“I’d just as soon not have them survive to tell their tale to a Vaarekian. Let us be off,” Desmon said.
~
Sam halted the column at the explosion site. He inspected his ward covers and found a few dangerously thin as a result of the explosion. He repaired them, and they continued on. Sam had no way of telling if anyone had found evidence of Glory’s demise. The ruse might have cost them each a change of clothes, but Sam remembered that Glory hadn’t hesitated to help him. Any evidence might tell him if she really had come over to his side, whatever that was.
He had promised her a return to Holding. Sam had made the commitment, and he felt that was where his future was, not Polistia, no matter what happened.
The camp didn’t seem much different from afar, but Sam could feel a tension in the air that wasn’t apparent when he rode through the first time.
“Be prepared to fight. Armor on,” Desmon said.
Sam created a fresh set and reached the sentry positions.
“You are alive!”
“Too bad the girl was killed,” Sam said, as he drew his sword. “There are enemy soldiers behind me. Run while I try to hold them off!”
He watched the pair leave their posts as Desmon’s troops flowed around him. Sam hoped the sentries would relay the message confirming that Glory had died before Desmon’s men reached them.
He joined the troops as they attacked the soldiers in the camp. He fought his way to the warder area and began to deflect wards and throw blocks of pollen on the warders. Manacles took too long in the heat of battle, he thought, and he liked to see the men and women struggle, burdened with something they couldn’t see.
Sam was about to turn around but was blown off his horse by an exploding ward. He struggled to stand, but his equilibrium was damaged by the blast. He leaned against a bare tent pole, not able to reliably swing his blade, and watched as the fighting became brutal in the night.
As his steadiness returned, the battle had moved past him, and he walked through the warder tents, shattered, charred, and the bodies of the warders littered the tent lane. They still had blocks of pollen on their bodies. Sam hadn’t given them the option of fighting back, so they were slaughtered.
He didn’t know if the warder who had nearly killed him had gotten away, but Sam fought more honestly, with bare steel, against the remnant of the camp. He came upon a cluster of officers, huddled around each other, their swords pointing outward at Desmon’s attackers.
“Do you surrender?” Desmon said.
“I’m the one to offer terms,” Desmon’s commander said.
“Then offer them, man. This is a dangerous situation!” Desmon put fists on his hips.
“Surrender or die!” The officer said. “Vaar
ekian scum.”
“You didn’t have to say that,” Desmon said as the Vaarekian officers attacked.
They focused on Desmon’s peer as Sam and Desmon fought off the attack of desperate men. Sam saw the offending officer go down.
“Stop!” Sam said. “No need to die!” He yelled even louder.
The Vaarekians did stop. They leaned on their weapons, chests heaving. Sam looked down to see what was probably Captain Ballkunk and Desmon’s commanding officer dead at his feet.
Sam looked at the Vaarekians. “Put down your swords and sit,” he said. “You are all Polistians. Let us talk for a bit.”
The officers looked at one another but kept silent. One of the men nodded curtly to Sam.
“You are the one who led Glory Wheeler to her death?” one of the officers said. “The sentries said a young man with Greto Hunkal’s papers took Glory through the western gate and into a ward field.” He looked up at Sam. “You killed Glory?”
Sam nodded. “She is lost to Viktar Kreb,” Sam said, “along with most of the other warders. One nearly killed me.”
“They should have. You deserved it,” the same officer said.
Sam got down on his haunches and looked at the officer. “And what do you deserve? You have invaded a sovereign neighbor. You have brought Kreb’s ambitions to enslave people who don’t want to be enslaved along with you. What gives you the right to be here on Zogazin soil?”
Tera Barako was enslaved, but unfortunately she was willing, Sam thought as he looked into the officer’s unrepentant eyes.
“The world belongs to the Dictator,” the officer said evenly.
“The world doesn’t belong to any one man or country,” Sam said. He wanted to say more, but his thoughts were a bit jumbled and unformed by his anger at the man. He just knew that Kreb was wrong, very wrong.
“You are wrong, boy. Take this!” the officer said. He lunged at Sam with a boot knife in his hand, barely piercing the body armor that Sam still wore.
Sam fell on his backside, the knife sticking out of his chest. “Not another one of these,” he said, as Desmon’s soldiers put an end to the officer’s life, while Sam removed the officer’s weapon stuck in his armor.
