Firehand # with Pauline M. Griffin Page 15

  Ross counted the seconds until he was certain his people were all in place, then gave the command to advance.

  The sight of the Sapphireholders appearing seemingly out of the very ground with arms drawn and ready to slay was sufficient to cow their outnumbered foes, and the Condor Hall mercenaries surrendered without attempting to draw blade.

  The war captain ordered them to cast their weapons aside and then to dismount. They complied at once. The partisans left their saddles as well, and Murdock turned to question the Sergeant who appeared to be the leader of the captives.

  A curse, sharp and bitter!

  His head snapped about as Allran went for one of the prisoners, sword in hand and poised to strike.

  Ross threw himself forward, slamming into his Lieutenant and bearing him to the ground.

  There was no struggle. Ashe and one of the others separated the two men and disarmed Allran while their comrades closed in around the captives lest they think to take advantage of the confusion of the moment and break for their freedom.

  The Time Agent was on his feet again. His fury was open and unbridled as he faced the Dominionite officer so that even their companions trembled in their hearts to see it. "How dare you?" he whispered slowly, carefully articulating each word. "How dare you draw against a man who's surrendered to us?"

  "That one cut my sire down!"

  Murdock forced a rein on his anger. "Your father was a soldier by profession, the commander of Sapphirehold's garrison, and he met his death in open war."

  Allran's face flushed with rage. "You mercenaries like to imagine you can civilize war! You cannot, nor have you claim to any cloak of righteousness! We domain people may hire you once in the generation or in several generations when war-need shadows our normally peaceful lifeway, but you yourselves are vampires, ghouls, ever feeding on fresh-spurting blood and dead men's flesh…"

  Eveleen struck him hard across the mouth. "Shut up, you fool!"

  The man stiffened but then bowed his head. "Your pardon, Captain. I was grossly insubordinate and accept as merited whatever penalty you lay on me."

  "Your anger was better released in shooting off your mouth than in some manner deadly to our honor or our lives. Cool down and then resume your duties."

  Ross turned on his heel and walked back toward the Sergeant he had been about to interrogate.

  All the captives were staring at him in dazed awe. This man was a legend to them, and they felt in this moment that he was more than any tale or dread could make him. The speed of his response, the strength of his will, his defense of what he held to be justice might momentarily stun them, but all this was only to be expected n the face of what they knew about him. The control he had shown was something different. They had not met with its like before, though these were no recruits having had but little experience with either domain or mercenary officers. They feared him because of it, but they admired him also and held nothing back of their recent history when he put his questions, first to their leader, then to the remainder of them. They had no information that would render such openness a violation of their oaths or a danger to comrades still active in the war.

  Murdock came away from the interview disappointed. The Condor Hall men had no news of real interest to him, nor were they couriers, but only the survivors of a larger unit that had been attacked and overcome by partisans farther north. These six had escaped, and since they had already crossed more than half the distance to the front, they had decided that attempting to reach their lines was their wisest course. They had continued southward, hoping that caution and the small size of their party would shield them from further trouble. A careful search had confirmed that they carried no papers or other material useful to the Confederate leaders.

  He regretted the delay taking them had cost him. Six warriors, none of them bearing any great rank, made a poor prize. However, they could hardly be released at this point, and Gurnion's people would probably want to examine them more closely in case one or more of them should be carrying secret verbal orders, although that was extremely unlikely. He would not have entrusted any of these with such an errand and did not imagine Zanthor I Yoroc was a poorer judge of men than himself.

  Ross was growing uncomfortable about lingering so long and ordered his unit to mount. The prisoners were bound to their springdeer, arms fastened to their sides, and then blindfolded. Soon now, the wild foothills guarding the mountains would be open to them, and they would begin moving south along paths no one not part of Firehand's small army was permitted to see.

  They rode hard for some two hours, then halted.

  Murdock ordered all eight of his warriors to go with the prisoners, keeping only his three leaders beside him. He and those remaining with him would be at a serious disadvantage if they met with any more of their enemies, but they were near their highlands and were well able to keep themselves concealed until they did reach safety.

  The eight soldiers were in less than an excellent situation themselves. They had a goodly distance to go before reaching the Confederate camp, and it would be no delight traveling it in company with prisoners nearly equal in number with themselves.

  The Terran would not keep his party intact despite all his awareness of the difficulties separation would and could bring to both units. Luroc, too, must have report of what they had learned in the Funnel. Besides, Murdock never trusted in only one courier or one party to carry news of any importance to their allies. Once he reached his base, more riders would be sent to the Confederate Ton either to confirm the details of his message or to deliver it if these first emissaries had failed to reach him.

  22

  THE COMMANDER AND his three companions kept moving steadily all that day, trying to regain some of the time they had lost. They were silent for the most part, each busy with his own thoughts, and little was said even when they finally made camp for the night.

  Eveleen held the second watch, that following her husband's. She was in no good humor and was glad none of the others was present to see the frown marring her features.

  She was furious with Allran. Her fellow Lieutenant was a professional soldier and had honestly acknowledged his fault in addressing his superior as he had, but none of the anger against Murdock which had fired his outburst had faded. He reined it tightly now, but she knew him well enough after their months of service together to be aware of it, and she was certain Ross sensed it as well.

  Her expression darkened still further. This was not the first time she had observed discontent or anger on him, either. What was the matter with the man? Ross did not need this with everything else he had to bear besides.

  When she was finally relieved, the woman went to where Murdock was lying. Each of the partisans slept apart from his companions, visually separated from them so that some, at least, might escape if their camp were discovered and overrun. She was glad of that now, for it would give them the opportunity for private conversation if her chief were still awake.

  Eveleen found Ross lying on his back, his arms pillowing his head. He appeared to be staring into the branches forming the dark roof above him but sat up as soon as she approached.

  The Lieutenant gave the signal that all was well and seated herself beside him. "My watch is over," she chided gently. "You should've been asleep ages ago."

  "I wanted to do some thinking." He smiled. "You wouldn't have come to me if you didn't expect to find me awake."

  "I was afraid you would be," the weapons expert admitted.

  "You've got to be played out, too. What's your excuse for staying up?"

  Her head lowered and raised again. "The same as yours. I was thinking about what happened today, what Allran said to you."

  "He was mad, and he knew I was right."

  "Angry words can still wound. He used some pretty strong terms." Her eyes caught his. "Ross, no one, including Allran A Aldar, thinks of you like that."

  "Not these people, no. Not now," he said dully, "but all Dominion will soon. You said they shif
ted into pacifism pretty early. People in our supposed profession wouldn't stay popular in that atmosphere." His eyes fixed on his hands. "I was a misfit in our own time until the Project found me, and I was a misfit in Hawaika's past. Now it's happening again…"

  "Hardly," she informed him. "The conversion did not happen overnight. Besides, the locals didn't become idiots because they turned away from warfare on a yearly basis. They fought the Baldies, remember, and they did a proper job on them. Their history didn't condemn that stand, or try to drop it into the back of some file and forget it."

  A slow smile just touched his lips before fading again. "I suppose I am getting myself worked up over nothing."

  His expression darkened again. "I'd have to be stone blind not to see that Allran resents me, though. If he weren't such a professional, there would be serious friction between us even now."

  His companion nodded. "It's gotten worse recently. I can't understand what's the matter with him."

  "I imagine it's a problem mercenary commanders must occasionally encounter on long-term commissions," Ross said thoughtfully. "Most of these domain leaders are sound warriors and good officers, but their skills are usually confined to training and parading their troops, relieved, perhaps, by bandit control now and then in wilder areas or, in extremely rare instances, by a show of force against some troublesome neighbor.

  "When real danger develops, mercenary companies are almost inevitably hired, always with the stipulation that their own officers will have precedence in all war-related activities, save only with respect to the Ton himself."

  He sighed. "It's only natural, I suppose, that some of the local men should resent being thus superseded, particularly where rank and birth are interconnected. Such officers simply don't want to yield place to hired swords. I can't say that I blame them."

  Ross looked into the distance. "Allran's fathers have commanded Sapphirehold's garrison for five generations. How pleased can I expect him to be to see a mercenary raised over him? Luroc's naming me his son can't have helped, either. It's got to have raised the nasty suspicion that I might stay here and make the current situation permanent. That would be a disaster as far as he was concerned."

  The Terran man fell silent a moment, then recalled himself again. "I'll have to do what I can to make peace between us."

  "You're not the one at fault!"

  "All the same, it's my business to banish this tension before it grows still worse, which it's bound to do if I try to ignore it. We can't afford quarreling in our ranks. That would serve Zanthor so well that it might significantly delay his defeat."

  "What more can you do?" Eveleen asked him. "Another man would've decked Allran or worse for what he said to you today."

  "I wasn't far from it," her husband confessed.

  He shrugged. "All I can do is talk to him. I don't want the place he desires. I should be able to convince him that mercenaries don't stick around once their work's done and life goes back to normal again."

  "Will he believe that?"

  "He should if I don't hold off so long before speaking to him that his feelings grow permanently irrational. That would be an enormous disservice to an extremely fine officer, and I've delayed nearly too long already."

  Ross smiled at her. "That must wait until we're back in base. For now, Lieutenant, I suggest that we both get some sleep. As it is, we won't be happy when it's time to hit the saddle again."

  23

  THE FOLLOWING DAY dawned pleasantly enough, but the weather turned early in the morning, and soon a sharp, damp wind snapped at them.

  Rain joined with it just before noon, a nasty, steady drizzle that kept all four morosely hunched in their cloaks. They were tired in spirit and body after their long mission, they were cold, and even the fact that they were well into the mountains and should reach their base the next day did little to cheer them. None of them felt inclined for speech, although the need for caution was long since past.

  All knew camp would be a most unpleasant affair that night, and Murdock weighed continuing on until they reached home.

  In the end he decided to break their journey. There was still a goodly distance to go, and he disliked pressing a needless forced march on his companions. He tried never to overtax any of his soldiers without strong cause. They endured quite enough hardship in the normal course of their lives without his adding to their burdens.

  The partisans stopped where they were when darkness began to fall despite the fact that the site offered little in the way of comfort. They knew the region in which they traveled and realized they would find nothing better anywhere close by.

  At least, they were shielded in great part from the wind. They were in the lee of a high, very sheer cliff that broke the worst of its force. So effective was its screening, in fact, that a considerable amount of soil and softer matter clung to it, bound by the roots of the small, tough plants that had somehow found purchase there despite its almost perpendicular grade.

  None of this vegetation was high or very dense, and the rocks and great boulders marbling the cliffside were clearly visible, as were the scars left to show where some of them had torn free.

  Ross set their camp a fair distance from the cliff. Falls might not occur frequently, but the stones, some of them large, littering the ground near its base were proof enough that heavy material did occasionally break loose and come down. He was particularly inclined to show caution now. After a day's constant rain, that soil up there was likely to be wet through and maybe somewhat less stable, less able to bear weight against the draw of gravity, than would normally be the case.

  A Aldar scowled when he saw where they were to settle. "We would have better shelter closer to the cliff," he protested, "and those two hollows there would let the ones not on watch sleep dry and out of the wind. The bigger of them would hold two of us."

  "Some of that rock could too easily fall."

  "The ground might tremble and open beneath us, too! If fate wants to take us that way, she will do so, Firehand's precautions be damned!"

  The gray eyes turned cold. "Sleep where you will! I've issued no commands on the subject," he snapped, then pointedly turned his attention away from the other.

  The Dominionite went to the larger of the two indentations to which he had referred as soon as the usual work of the camp had been completed. His watch did not come until Eveleen's was done, and he could hope for several hours of solid sleep before he was summoned, a considerably better sleep than any of his comrades would enjoy, however weariness might blunt the discomforts of their beds.

  Ross could scarcely grip his temper even after he had left the others to take up his turn at guard, and he gave thanks that none of their foes strayed here. With this dark, violent passion so strongly in possession of him, he would have been hard pressed to detect any sort of even minimally subtle approach.

  He strove to quell the emotion sending the blood surging through his veins, knowing it to be sharp beyond the affront calling it forth.

  The Terran understood well enough why he was reacting like this. The day had been a miserable, tiring one, and he was beginning to feel the backlash of the strain that always accompanied service in the Funnel. A night's proper sleep was what he actually needed to set him right, but until he was free to seek that, he would have to keep himself under very tight check. To his great discredit, he had given way once this night and had no wish to repeat that failing a second time, maybe with even less cause.

  A dull rumble tore through the night, followed almost in the same instant by a heart-deadening crash.

  The blood drained from the Time Agent's face. He raced for the camp, the certainty of disaster crushing him like a sentence from the judgment chamber of Dominion's Goddess.

  It was too well founded. A great stone, a boulder larger than any of the others that had come down before it, had fallen from the cliff to settle against the place where the rebellious Lieutenant had chosen to pass the night. Whether it had broken him beneath its mass or mere
ly trapped him inside could not as yet be determined.

  Ross's mouth was a hard line. It could well be that the former was the kinder alternative.

  He found no comfort in Gordon's expression when the archeologist turned to give him report. "It's wedged solid. We can't tell whether he's alive, and no air's getting to him if he is. Either we pull him out fast, or we might as well not bother."

  His partner nodded grimly. That hole was very small. It would not hold any great supply of oxygen even for one lying prone and inactive, as the prisoner must.

  He thought suddenly that it made an excellent tomb.

  Murdock gave no voice to that. Allran needed better from him than despair.

  He bent to study the boulder and the ground around it.

  Bad. Very bad. The land sloped inward toward the cliff, very slightly, perhaps, but still perceptibly, and it was ridged besides so that the great plug was fairly effectively locked in place. It had holed the ground in its striking, too. Fortunately, the latter was itself very hard, and the indentation was slight, but coupled with all the rest and with the weight of the missile, it could too well be enough to defeat them.

  He straightened. There was only one real chance that he could see. "Get a couple of the deer. Fasten them to it." He wished they could have used all of the animals, but there was no room for more than a pair of them to maneuver and not enough line to fashion a harness for them even if there were.

  His comrades ran to obey.

  "You think they'll be able to pull it out?" Eveleen asked doubtfully as she returned with two of their mounts.

  "Out, no. They may be able to haul it lengthways along the wall, far enough for us to drag him free."

  "A team can't work that way," Ashe told him, "not with the kind of rope harness we'll have to improvise. The path along which they'll have to draw is too narrow. They'd only be pulling against each other."

  "We have enough rope to harness them in line, one before the other."

  The older man nodded slowly. "Yes," he said softly. "That might just do it."