“Yes sir.” The words were stiff.
Tamas rubbed his eyes. He usually used this time before a battle to meet with his commanding officers and plan backup strategies, but he’d already given the orders he’d needed to give, and everything was banked on the Kez answer to his fake communiqué. If it worked, they’d have an extra day in which to plan. If it didn’t, battle would commence within the hour.
He knew he should be doing something. But he just couldn’t bring himself to get moving. He tried to tell himself it was just exhaustion from the road – a few moments of quiet and he would be ready to take on the road. But he wasn’t just exhausted. His bones ached; every wound new and old hurt; and his mind longed for sleep. Age had caught up with him over these last few months.
And the fact that he couldn’t focus on the task at hand meant that he was ignoring something more important.
“Sir,” Vlora said quietly, “what of Taniel? We know where Hilanska sent his men. Perhaps…” She trailed off.
That couldn’t be more important than the task at hand. Taniel might be his son, but he was merely one man. This day determined the fate of an entire country. “I know my duties, Captain,” Tamas said.
Vlora looked as if she wanted to say more. Instead, she crossed the room to where Olem stood by the entrance. Olem eyed her, but did not stop her, when she reached inside his jacket for tobacco and rolling paper. She rolled a cigarette slowly, her eyes never leaving Olem’s face, then struck one of his matches and lit the end, inhaling deeply. The smoke rolled out of her nostrils and she offered the cigarette to Olem.
Tamas thought of telling them both not to smoke in the tent, but he wanted to see how this played out. It was a peace offering, something to take the sting off of what she’d said a minute ago.
Olem took the cigarette and clenched it between his lips. Tamas felt himself letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
The tent flap swung open and someone whispered to Olem. “A moment, sir,” Olem said, stepping outside.
Tamas found himself alone with Vlora. He knew she wanted to say something about Taniel. He stared at her, hoping that his expression brooked no argument, but as the silence went on, he almost wished she would say something. He could deal with her accusations and disappointment. He could fight that.
He couldn’t fight his own.
Olem stepped into the tent once more, letting in a breeze tinged with the smell of cigarette smoke. “Sir,” he said, “our man is back. The Kez didn’t send back an answer, but their brigades are already leaving the field. We have until tomorrow.”
Tamas got to his feet, coughing into his hand to hide the grimace of pain. “Then let’s hope the Kez haven’t gotten more cunning since we left. How many of your Riflejacks have you found so far?”
“Hilanska sent them all back to their own companies. I’ve tracked down about two hundred of the picked men.”
“Gather them up, would you? We have work to do.”
Chapter 13
Kresimir – or rather the doll used to control him – couldn’t be moved yet.
Taniel had been fighting a growing panic all night. He hadn’t slept. He’d barely eaten. The arrival of morning had only deepened his anxiety.
“We have to go,” Taniel said.
Ka-poel shook her head adamantly. She crouched over a casket made of sticks and dried grass. It was a box, no bigger than a soldier’s kit, meant to contain a god.
“They’ll be here by midday,” Taniel said.
Ka-poel didn’t respond. She’d finished the casket only a few hours ago. Every moment since had been spent painting thin, perfectly straight lines on the outside using a horsehair brush she’d produced from within her rucksack. She used her blood for ink and it dried as a surprisingly bright crimson, not at all the dark rust of dried blood.
The whole thing made Taniel uneasy – more so than usual.
“Half a company of Adran infantry armed with air rifles are camped less than two miles away,” he said. “They’re climbing from their tents now and breaking camp, ready to continue their search. They’ll find us by midday, if we’re lucky. We can’t possibly fight that many. They’ll kill us both and then free Kresimir. We have to go.”
Ka-poel didn’t seem to agree with him. She kept painting, her hand steady and slow, as if she’d not heard a word.
Taniel touched her shoulder. “Pole…”
She whirled suddenly, throwing the brush across the cave and leaping to her feet. He found himself retreating from her advance. Her face was twisted into a scowl and her fists were clenched at her sides. She backed him up against the very edge of the cave and leaned toward him, managing to loom even though she was so much smaller than he. She tapped her hand against her chest, then the side of her head, and made a negative motion. She repeated the series of gestures two more times and then pointed to the casket.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Taniel noticed for the first time that her hair and shirt were soaked with sweat. Her shoulders shook. Unshed tears shone in the corners of her eyes, and Taniel finally realized how much this was taking out of her. He knew that Bone-eyes could create enchantments. They had made enchanted bullets called redstripes for the colonists in Fatrasta, and Ka-poel had even done it once for him – though he’d never witnessed the process. This must be like that.
He glanced at the casket and remembered the thin line of red that encircled the bullets and gave redstripes their names.
Of course. This was exactly like redstripes. She had to use her own blood in the enchantments.
Was that what she had done the other day when she wiped her blood on his cheeks? Enchanted him? How much energy did this take? He saw her again with new eyes, saw the depth of her exhaustion and how her eyes seemed sunken and her cheeks hollow. Her clothes hung off her as if on a tailor’s mannequin.
She was killing herself to keep Kresimir from breaking free, and yet she still used some of her power on him.
Ka-poel returned to her project, silent as always.
Taniel collected two knives and a bayonet that he’d taken from the Adran soldiers the other day. He regretted not stealing an air rifle. He could have at least used it as a pike with a bayonet on the end, but in his arrogance he’d broken them all in the Adran camp.
He kissed Ka-poel on the cheek, trying not to be put off by the way she turned away from him, and then left the cave behind, heading up and over the ridge and then following it to the east toward the Adran camp.
It didn’t take him longer than an hour to spot the advance elements of the company of Adran infantry. Six of them worked their way up the canyon slowly, cautiously, their rifles clutched in both hands and their eyes on the ridgelines high above them on either side.
He took up a position about three hundred yards above the floor of the canyon and hunkered down to wait.
The vanguard turned out to be fifty paces ahead of the rest of the company. The company was forced to advance in single file and, unlike the vanguard, they weren’t apprising themselves of their surroundings. They were fresh and overconfident. Some of the men joked, their chipper voices bouncing off the canyon walls. Taniel had hoped that his display to the squad the other day would make them more cautious, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
After all, they were only hunting one man and this was broad daylight.
Taniel knew he couldn’t fight all eighty of them. He didn’t stand a chance.
He waited until the entire company was within sight, strung out as they were along the canyon floor, and the center of the company was directly below his position. Then he lashed out with one foot at the log beside him and dashed out of the way as twenty tons of rubble immediately began to thunder down the canyon walls.