Authors: John Phythyon
“Now this I’m particularly proud of,” he said, leading them over to the carriage. “Proper transportation for an ambassador of Her Majesty’s government. Note the dragons at the corners on the top.”
Wolf looked up and saw intricately carved dragon heads rising from each of the roof’s four corners. Their mouths were open in a snarl.
“Each fires bolts of magical energy,” Quincy explained. “There are five shots per dragon, and they rotate forty-five degrees in either direction, giving you three hundred sixty degrees of protection. Just what you need to discourage highwaymen.
“Inside,” Quincy said as he opened the door, “sumptuous accommodations.”
Wolf peered inside the carriage and found Quincy to be right. The seats were plush and covered in velvet. It was roomy. There were pillows, and the benches were wide. He might even be able to sleep in there.
“Now over here,” Quincy continued, “is your control panel. You access it by tapping the stone here like so.”
He reached over and lightly tapped an emerald set into the wall of the carriage. When he did, part of the front wall opened and extended, revealing a small lever, four knobs, and several more stones.
“Turn the knobs to rotate the dragons,” Quincy explained. “When you have it in firing position, tap the stone over the corresponding knob.
“This stone here—” he pointed to an amethyst “—fires a net from the back. Just the thing for tripping up pursuers.
“Now, in the event they attack the horses, you press this stone here—” he indicated an opal “—which disengages the carriage from the harness. You then can use the lever to power the carriage so you can continue your flight or pursuit as the case may be. Push it forward to drive straight, backward to slow down or move in reverse, and one side or the other to turn. Got it?”
“I think so,” Wolf said. He was feeling overwhelmed. This carriage was beyond his imagining.
“Now, should you wish to remove an unwanted passenger from the cab, you push this button here or this one here.” Quincy pointed out small buttons set in the bench. “That will trigger the ejector seat, throwing your unwanted company out through the roof.”
“You’re joking,” Wolf said. Quincy fixed him with a hard stare.
“I never joke about my work, Shadow Six,” he said. “There’s a button on each side, so you can sit on either side of the carriage without worrying about not being able to use the ejector function. Questions?”
Wolf had about a hundred, but he didn’t have time for any of them. Quincy’s briefing was making his head hurt, and he had a hard time envisioning using any of the fantastic carriage’s abilities other than its luxury.
“No,” he said.
“Good,” Quincy replied. “Now, you’re due in Al-Adan by nightfall. Kenderbrick will receive you at the safe house. Your driver, Charles, knows the location. You better get going. We’ve sent word of the attempt on your life, and the military brain trust there is quite concerned. Best not to keep them waiting.”
Just then, there was a loud explosion and poof of yellow smoke. Wolf turned in its direction, startled by the sudden noise. When the cloud cleared there was a man with cat’s whiskers standing next to a woman with a bird’s beak and covered in feathers. The man looked very surprised.
“Oh, blast,” Quincy cursed. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure, Dr. Quincy,” the man said. “I thought I measured the contents precisely.”
The woman tried to yell at the man, but all she got out were some shrill squawks. When she realized she couldn’t speak, she burst into tears. Her sobs sounded ridiculous. Wolf did his best to suppress a smile.
“
All right,” Quincy said, sounding perturbed, “both of you go to the infirmary. I’ll be along shortly to sort you out.”
The man put his hand on the girl’s shoulder to try to comfort her, but she shook it away from him and stalked off out of the cavern. The man followed glumly.
“I’d say the cat won’t be getting the canary tonight,” Wolf said with a grin.
“Oh, do be quiet,” Quincy said with another glare. “Now be careful, Shadow Six. I know you’ve risked your life many times for Her Majesty’s government, but this is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Al-Adan is much more dangerous than Mensch.”
Wolf nodded. It was the second time today he’d received such a warning. This time, he took it seriously.
“Good luck, Shadow Six,” Shadow Twenty-Seven said.
“Thanks,” he replied.
Wolf didn’t like what he was getting into. He was in over his head on a mission he didn’t fully understand in a place he’d twice been warned was deadlier than any he’d ever been. The situation was working against him. He needed some sort of edge.
Fortunately, he had an idea how to get one. He might be due in Al-Adan tonight, but he wasn’t going to make that appointment. He had another stop in mind first. Silverleaf had invited him to his villa when they had last met. He intended to make good on that invitation. Wolf suspected the heart of this mission could be found there. Kenderbrick and Al-Adan were just going to have to wait.
Chapter 13:
Operation: Hammerfall
(Three Months before Revelation Day)
Boris Davidov was very happy to see Svetlana Markova. She had been gone for weeks on the undercover mission he assigned, and he was anxious to know what she found. The longer she was away, the more he feared there was something alarming between Ravager and this army general.
“Good morning, Comrade Major,” she said, snapping a crisp salute as she always did.
She was so beautiful – the luxurious blonde hair, the large breasts and narrow waist, the gleaming blue eyes. The truth was Boris was glad to see her for reasons that had nothing to do with his interest in her mission. He missed her while she was gone.
He could never tell her that, of course. He could never pretend to be more than her superior. He enjoyed her friendship, her keen insight, and her attention to detail. He longed to spend time getting to know her better. But he could never do so. He was her superior. It would be unthinkable for them to share more than the occasional drink at the officers’ club. It would be unforgiveable to pursue the desires that often kept him awake at night.
“Good morning, Shadowcat,” he said. “Please make your report.”
“I have spent the past few weeks at Army Station 505, where General Tupelov’s units are headquartered. It took me some time to penetrate the security. Once I did, I discovered something called
Operation: Hammerfall
. Are you familiar with this initiative?”
Boris searched his memory. The name wasn’t immediately known to him, but he tried to remember if he had been briefed on it as part of some other project. After a few moments, he concluded he hadn’t.
“No,” he said.
“I did not think so,” she said. “According to what I was able to ascertain, it is a joint Army-PDB program with operations in both Jifan and Alfar.”
“But that’s impossible,” Boris said. “I am the ranking PDB officer in this territory. Any joint operation into Jifan would have to go through me.” He couldn’t decide if he was confused, worried, or angry.
“As I suspected,” Shadowcat said. “Information on this program was spread across multiple files and categories. My impression was this was done to disguise the true nature of what is happening. Individually, the files contain information that does not appear to relate to anything else. If they are put together, though, a pattern emerges.”
“Describe this pattern,” Boris said. Deep in his stomach, an uneasy feeling began to grow.
“It’s difficult,” Shadowcat replied. “After examining the evidence, I am still not sure what I’ve found. However, there are numerous things that point towards an illegal or unapproved operation.
“Fifteen percent of the PDB’s budget in this arena is being funneled to Shendali terrorists operating in Alfar.”
“What?” Boris roared. Besides the fact that State policy expressly forbid funding the terrorists, he hadn’t approved such an expenditure. How had such a thing been accomplished without his approval? “What sort of funding?”
“The reports were not clear, sir. They only showed the diversion.”
“What else?” Boris asked. The feeling in his stomach grew stronger.
“A large number of former soldiers has been deployed to Al-Adan,” she continued. “It is not clear what their purpose is there, and they are not listed as being on active duty. However, they do receive a stipend and are assigned directly to General Tupelov.”
“Sleeper agents?”
“That was my impression,” she answered. “But they are soldiers not spies. They do not seem to be typical sleeper agents. Moreover, since they are human and therefore not welcome in Alfar, it seems strange, since they would be unable to blend in effectively.”
“Go on,” Boris prodded.
“Ravager has been assigned to Al-Adan as a ‘special liaison’ to the Alfari government. There is no information on what exactly he does. However, he reports directly to General Tupelov.”
“Why is General Tupelov in need of a special liaison to the
Alfari
government?”
“Again, I am not certain, Comrade Major,” Shadowcat said. “But there is more. The reports indicate there is an insider in the Alfari government. It is possible that Ravager is his contact.”
Boris chewed on that thought for a moment. That was the most plausible explanation. It seemed Yevgeni Tupelov was running some sort of covert mission in Alfar that involved funding Shendali terrorists and working inside the Alfari coalition government. What was he up to? And how did he get authorization to do this? This should be a PDB initiative.
“Do we have any idea what
Operation: Hammerfall’s
purpose is or when it is expected to launch?” he said.
“I can only speculate on both accounts,” she said.
“Do so.”
“
Hammerfall’s
purpose is not clear, but it appears to be aimed at destabilizing the Alfari government. Whether this is being done to disrupt the relationship with Urland or weaken the Freyalan contingent in the coalition is unknown. It’s also not obvious how Phrygia benefits.
“As for when it launches, I believe the operation is already active. Given that Ravager has been sighted repeatedly in Al-Adan and there is the mention of this insider, it is logical to suppose things are already in process.”
Boris turned that over in his mind. She was right, of course. If this were all theoretical, Ravager would not be deployed, and there would not be these sleeper agents in Al-Adan. Whatever
Operation: Hammerfall
was, it was in motion.
“We need to know what
Operation: Hammerfall
is,” he told her. “We must learn all about it and discover its purpose. I suspect that, by so doing, we will know why it is so secret, but if not, I want to know why the ranking officers in the PDB have been out of the loop.”
“
Da
, Comrade Major,” Shadowcat said, snapping another of her trademark crisp salutes.
“Svetlana,” he said. “Discuss this mission with no one. You are to report directly to me and to no one else. I am afraid
Operation: Hammerfall
is both illegal and unapproved by High Command. If either is the case, those behind it will do anything necessary to protect its secrets. Be very careful.”
“
Da
, Comrade Major,” she said again.
Then she turned and marched out of his office. He watched her go, admiring her behind as she did. She was so faithful, so talented. He regretted putting her in the way of this kind of potential harm. She was also the best agent he had, and the one he trusted more than any other. She was the best choice for this mission. Still, his heart ached to see her go.
The uneasy feeling in his stomach continued to grow. He feared it would soon make him nauseous.
Chapter 14: An Unexpected Pleasure
(Two Days before Revelation Day)
Wolf’s carriage, drawn by four large, black stallions, pulled up to Silverleaf’s villa in mid-afternoon. The sun was hot, and the air was dry. He felt as though the moisture was being sucked from his body, and he was made all the more uncomfortable by the fact he had finally dressed in clothes befitting an ambassador. He wore a cream-colored, stuffed tunic with a high collar, and green leggings. The fabric didn’t breathe, it itched, and the collar was tight. He hated his family for disowning him upon their discovery he was a Shadow, but, at times like these, he thought he might have gotten the better end of the deal, not having to wear ridiculous, uncomfortable clothes to maintain a proper appearance in court.
Outside the carriage, the earth was barren. The ground was hard, cracked, and dry, and what few plants he saw were dying. Not far from the compound was a forest, but it too looked sickly. Like much of the rest of Alfar he had seen so far, the land looked blighted, dying a slow, ignoble death. It saddened him.
The villa itself was composed of several large buildings built of solid wood, reddish in color – oak, Wolf thought. It was surrounded by a tall wooden wall of the same color, but he observed no parapets or guards patrolling it. There was a sentry at the gate, who looked more like a servant than a soldier. He wore a grey tunic and pants, stitched with what Wolf presumed was Silverleaf’s family crest. There was a large leaf in the center and a number of other images surrounding it Wolf didn’t recognize. He thought one might be a stag, but it was hard to tell. Wolf didn’t see a weapon of any sort on his person. The guard ushered the carriage through without complaint when told it contained the Urlish Ambassador to Alfar.
Inside the wall, things changed. Lush plants decorated a large courtyard, servants moved back and forth somewhat cheerfully, and the light seemed a little softer and friendlier than outside the compound. Wolf assumed this was some magical force at work, but he couldn’t really tell. Since arriving in Alfar, his Shadow sight had detected magic everywhere. The whole place seemed to glow, albeit in a sickly sort of fashion. Here, things looked healthier, but Wolf couldn’t tell if it was because a spell had been cast, or if the wall somehow kept out the decay that was afflicting the rest of the country.
The carriage pulled around to the door of the main house, and Wolf stepped out into the heat. To his surprise, a breeze blew, gently cooling him. He had no time to consider it, though, because he was presently met by a tall elf in a long, green robe with a very serious expression on his face. He was thin, balding, and stared at Wolf imperiously.
“I am Lightwater,” the elf said. “Who are you, and what business have you here?”
“Wolf Dasher, Ambassador from Her Majesty’s Government to Alfar,” Wolf said with a smile and a bow. He adopted the affable fool persona he’d played at the Dubonney Club. “I’m here to visit Ambassador Silverleaf.”
“The ambassador is not presently at home,” Lightwater replied, a strong note of disdain in his voice. “Are you expected?”
“Not exactly,” Wolf said.
“Then I’m afraid—”
“But I am invited,” Wolf continued. “When we met in Urland, the ambassador invited me to visit him at his villa the next time I was in Alfar. With my recent appointment by Her Majesty, the Queen, this turned out to be the next time.”
“Be that as it may,” Lightwater said, clearly growing irritated, “I was not informed of your visit in advance, and the ambassador sees no one without an appointment. Furthermore, he is not presently at home, so there is no purpose to your visit.”
“Well, I can wait for him to return,” Wolf said with a broad smile. “When is he expected back?”
“Tomorrow, but—”
“Well that’s perfect!” Wolf said. “I can stay tonight and visit with him when he arrives.”
“No, that won’t be acceptable—”
“For shame, Lightwater,” a familiar voice said behind the elf. “
Monsieur
Dasher eez a foreign noble. ’E should be made comfortable immediately.”
Lightwater turned with obvious irritation. Behind him, Wolf saw Simone de Beausoir. She wore a simple, silk robe that clung to her body delightfully. The neckline was low to offer a tantalizing near-glimpse of her breasts. She smiled at Wolf, looking radiant as a result.
“You have no authority, Human,” Lightwater said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You may be the master’s mistress, but you are not his wife.”
“Eet does not matter,” she said, fixing him with a glare. “I am zee lady of zee ’ouse. I ’ave some privileges, one of wheech eez to entertain guests.
Monsieur
Dasher is a guest of zee ambassador. I ’eard Sagaius invite eem ’ere myself. Let ’eem in, or I will tell Sagaius you refused to admit an invited guest and a state official.”
Wolf thought steam might come from Lightwater’s ears. He clearly thought Simone had no right to speak to him this way, and it appeared he would have liked nothing more than to send her packing. However, it was also clear her threat was real, and she might not be bluffing about Wolf’s importance and his invitation.
“Very well,” Lightwater said through his teeth after a moment. “Please accept our hospitality, Ambassador Dasher.” He stood aside so Wolf could enter.
“Charles,” Wolf called to his driver, “have the staff show you where to quarter yourself and the carriage.”
“Yes, sir,” his driver replied.
Wolf strode in confidently past Lightwater as though this sort of thing happened all the time and was no bother whatsoever. The elf shut the door behind him and fixed Simone with a cruel look.
“This isn’t over,
Mademoiselle
Beausoir,” he said. “You can be sure I will consult the master about the validity of Mr. Dasher’s invitation and his credentials.”
“And you weel find zat I described zem accurately,” she shot back. “Now stop threatening me and see
Monsieur
Dasher to ’eez quarters. And ’ave a formal deenair prepared for seven o’clock.
“Unteel zees evening, Ambassador.”
She winked at Wolf, turned, and strode off. He stood watching her go. Her robe clung deliciously to her behind, and she made certain to swing it for him as she departed.
“Charming girl,” he said, turning to Lightwater with a smile on his face.
“This way,” was the elf’s only response before leading Wolf up a staircase.
***
Wolf found his accommodations sumptuous. The entire house was made of carved wood, and it was smooth and shiny as though it had been lacquered. Upon careful observance, he discovered that the walls, the floor, and even some of the furnishings seemed to throb with a low-level magical pulse. He could not determine the source of this enchantment, but it was clear the entire house was bewitched somehow.
His quarters were large and provided him with a gigantic bed with a feather-stuffed mattress, a handsomely carved wardrobe that depicted images of elves laughing and playing in the sun, and a bath, the water of which was pleasantly warm. In fact, the water temperature did not change in all the time Wolf spent in the quarters. The sheets were satin, the glassware at the small bar crystalline, and the air was refreshing. Silverleaf didn’t suffer when he was at home.
Wolf wasted no time in bathing. He was hot, sweaty, and sore from the ride here, although he had to admit that Quincy’s special carriage was exquisitely comfortable. He stripped off the hateful court clothes and plunged himself into the warm waters, letting his troubles soak away for awhile.
He reflected he had been fortunate Simone interceded on his behalf. He hadn’t had a backup plan if he’d been refused entry. He supposed he would have simply waited until tomorrow for Silverleaf to return. He would have to be careful while he was here. Lightwater didn’t like or trust Simone, and he was sure to be on his guard since she had insisted on letting a stranger into his master’s house. It was clear the ambassador’s servant shared his master’s loathing of the human presence in Alfar.
Still, being here without Silverleaf being home was a real stroke of luck. He resolved to have a covert look around after dinner. Perhaps Simone could prove useful in that regard.
After his bath, he slipped into his bed and let exhaustion take him. He would need energy for what he had to do later tonight.
***
Wolf had just finished dressing when there was a knock on his door. He wore clothes of a rich red – a deliberate attempt to impress Simone.
“Come,” he called.
The door opened, and Lightwater stood in front of it looking thoroughly perturbed.
“Dinner is ready, Ambassador,” he said as though the words were odious to him.
Wolf smiled a thanks and left the room to accompany him. Lightwater led him to the dining room in silence. He made no remarks whatsoever on the intricate carvings on the walls, the immaculate shine of the wood, or of the beauty of the manse. He simply led Wolf down the stairs, through a lengthy hall and into a large room with a long table. It was set with two places, one on each of its long ends. Several candelabra occupied the space in between, all with their candles lit.
Lightwater gestured Wolf to take one of the chairs, looking as though he had just offered it to a very dirty dog. Wolf was about to sit when Simone entered from the other side of the room. She had used the intervening hours to make herself exquisitely beautiful. Like Wolf, she wore red. Her gown had long, tight sleeves that were trimmed in pink lace, and the neckline, also laced in pink, plunged nearly to her waist. Her breasts stretched the fabric apart, but they appeared secure in her garment, a fact Wolf couldn’t help but find disappointing. The skirt hung deftly off her hips and trailed to her ankles ending in another ring of pink lace. She wore her hair up and decorated it with numerous ivory combs. She looked even lovelier than when he saw her at the Dubonney Club.
She smiled at him when she arrived, but when her eyes fell on the table, her expression changed to one of anger.
“Lightwater,” she said, speaking his name like a curse, “what eez zees?
Monsieur
Dasher and I will not be able to converse seeting at opposite ends of ze table. We would ’ave to shout to ’ear each ozzer.”
“You requested a formal dinner,
Mademoiselle
,” he replied, unable to hide a nasty grin. “As is customary, I have set the lady of the house at one end of the table, and, in the absence of the host, the honored guest at the head.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “You know very well eet would be imposseebla for us to talk. Move my setting to
Monsieur
Dasher’s left immediately.”
“But of course,
Mademoiselle
,” he said, flashing her another cruel smile. Then he clapped his hands and two servants in grey robes entered. “Please move
Mademoiselle
Beausoir’s place settings to Ambassador Dasher’s left,” he instructed.
Simone and Lightwater fixed each other with imperious gazes as the dishes were moved. Neither spoke or even moved until the last piece of silverware was set. Wolf wasn’t sure whether to be worried or amused.
Simone stalked down the length of the table, still without taking her eyes off Lightwater. When she arrived at her chair, the servants pulled it back for her. She sat, at last breaking off her stare from the churlish steward. When she was pushed in and comfortable, Wolf seated himself.
“Zank you, Lightwater,” she said without looking at him. “You are deesmeesed. We won’t be needing your services any furzzer tonight.”
Lightwater didn’t move right away. He stared at her, perhaps trying to determine her intent.
“As you wish,” he said. He looked at the servants and said in Elfin, “Watch them.” Then he strode out. Wolf was grateful for the translating power of Quincy’s medallion.
He turned his attention to Simone and smiled. But she was giving him a concerned look.
“
Parlez vous, Galliçais?
” she asked.
“
Oui
,” he replied. He didn’t need the medallion for this conversation. He spoke Gallican.
“That’s good,” she said, switching to her native language. “Lightwater will no doubt spy on us, but he doesn’t speak Gallican. We can converse freely.”
“We’ll still need to be careful,” Wolf said. “He instructed his servants to watch us.”
“You speak Elfin?” she said, raising her eyebrows. It was extremely sexy.
“Well, I wouldn’t be a very good ambassador to Alfar if I didn’t,” he quipped, flashing her a winning smile.
She looked him up and down, assessing him. He gave her the affable fool look. A cagey smile crept across her lips.
“So,
Monsieur
Dasher,” she began, “your appearance here is an unexpected pleasure. To what do I owe the honor?”
“As I said,” he replied, “Ambassador Silverleaf invited me to his home, and this was the next time I was available.”
She studied him further. Wolf kept smiling as though he had nothing to hide.
“This can’t be coincidence,” she said at last.