The Witch's Eye (13 page)

“Maur doesn
’t know what you mean,” the Gol answered.  Ronan laughed.

“So who the hell are you guys?” Ronan a
sked.  “Besides Southern Claw…we gathered that much.”

“
Talon Company,” Crylos said.  “En route to Ath.”

“By way of where?” Maur asked.  “This is the middle of nowhere.”

“The middle of nowhere
squared
,” Ronan corrected.

“You
’re not really in any position to be asking questions,” Stark said.  The dark-haired Lieutenant sized up Ronan and gave him what was probably supposed to be an intimidating look.  “Especially considering the circumstances of your capture.”

“Wait...” Ronan said.  “We
’re prisoners?”

He realized he was unarmed.  It was
a state Ronan wasn’t used to, and certainly not one he appreciated. 

“Jesus, he really can
’t remember anything, can he?” Crylos said to Ankharra.  “And it’s
always
this bad?”

“Only during particularly lengthy periods of violent focus,” Ankharra said.  “The
Order is trained by the Triangle to hone in and block everything else out when forced into deadly situations.  They call it ‘Stepping into the Deadlands’. Sometimes the toll their body takes is to sacrifice parts of their mind.  I’d always understood they lost childhood memories, not recent ones, but I suppose everyone is different.”

“Lady, you
’d best stop referring to me in the third person,” Ronan said quietly.  “I’m not Maur.”

“Maur resents that statement,” the Gol said.

“Where are the others?” Ronan asked.  Maur was clearly surprised by the question, judging by the look he gave Ronan.  “
What
?” Ronan asked him.

“Maur was
under the impression you didn’t care about the people you were protecting,” Maur said.

“I don
’t.  But if I go through the trouble to do something, I make sure it’s done right.”

“The people you
were escorting are safe and sound,” Lieutenant Stark said in his authoritarian voice.  “Those that survived, that is.  You lost six in that ridiculous skirmish you started.”

“
I
started?” Ronan said.  He stood up.  “I don’t start fights, you little prick.  But I
do
finish them.”

“What the hell did you
just call me?” Stark said, and he moved towards Ronan.

“Stark!” Crylos said.  “That
’ll be all.”

Stark hesitated.  His
fists were clenched so tight his bones seemed ready to break. 

“Sir,” he said, and he held Ronan
’s gaze for a moment before he turned away and stomped outside.

“Charming guy,” Ronan said.

“You watch yourself,” Crylos said.  “You’re on thin ice as it is.”

“Like I give a shit,” Ronan laughed.

“You’d best, since you have some things to answer for,” Crylos said.  “You may not be a soldier, but you
do
represent the Southern Claw.  Why were you in the company of a known criminal?  Jade is wanted in both Thornn and Ath for violent crimes.”

“We weren
’t hanging out with her by choice, if that’s what you mean,” Ronan said.  “Her boss – Vago – was helping us get home.  The only way he’d agree to do that was if we helped his goons secure Blacksand’s borders against some Ebon Cities scouts.”

Maur nodded his agreement.  Crylos
watched them both suspiciously. 

“So what happened?”

“Things went to shit,” Ronan said.  “Just like always.  Look, keep her prisoner for all I care.  Vago never held up his end of the deal, anyways.”

Maur gave Ronan a look.  Ronan shrugged
. Maur just grumbled to himself.

“Everyone
’s been wondering what happened to Cross’s team ever since the attack on Thornn,” Crylos said.  “I met Eric and your partners Danica Black and Mike Kane a few years back in Karamanganjii.  They helped me and my men survive an assault by an Ebon Cities Wing.  I know all about your team, and your exploits.”

“Then you know that half of them are dead?” Ronan said.  He was surprised by the crack in his own voice.

“Yes,” Crylos said after a moment.  “Maur already told us.  I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said.  “Me
, too.”  He looked at Maur, and saw sadness in the Gol’s eyes.

Ronan was
tired.  He couldn’t deal with these people anymore.  One of the reasons he’d originally taken the job with Cross’s team was because Eric or Danica always handled the negotiations with the military and black market contacts.  Ronan was no good with people.  He’d been raised to kill, and that was all.

Christ, I may
just be the most useless man on the planet.

“Maur and his friend are
only trying to get home,” Maur explained.  “The mission to rescue Cross failed.  The mission to rescue Black failed.  Friends and team members keep dying.  Maur and Ronan are all that’s left.”

Crylos knocked on the table, thinking.  Ronan wasn
’t terribly good at reading people, but he got the impression that the young Captain was taken by their plight.  Ankharra stood quietly nearby, wrapped in her long cloak.  Ronan felt the dank cold of her spirit there inside the tent. 

Crylos looked at her
.  She nodded, as if affirming something they’d already discussed.

“What will
the two of you do when you return to Thornn?” he asked.

Maur looked ready to answer, but hesitated.  Ronan felt something sink inside him, like he
’d swallowed a piece of lead. 

“Maur hadn
’t thought that far ahead,” the Gol answered.

“We don
’t know,” Ronan said.  “We’ve been so busy chasing down missing teammates…I can barely remember doing anything else.”  He didn’t want to talk anymore, and yet strangely he suddenly found he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.  “Things used to be good.  We were a team.  We went on missions, and we always pulled through.  We went home, we got paid, and then we went and did it again.”  He was shaking, and he hated himself for that.  He’d never felt so vulnerable or exposed.

Not since that day you walked away
, he realized. 

“Ankharra,” Crylos said. 

“The city-state of Fane is on the move,” she said.  The room seemed to glow in the light of her emerald eyes.              “They’ve shifted the bulk of their military strength north, and they’re advancing towards Rimefang Loch.  They’ve razed several settlements in their path.”

“We saw them,” Ronan nodded.  “They broke up the fight between the Revengers and the Ebon Cities
back at Voth Ra’morg.  I only caught a glimpse of them…”

“Maur saw more,” Maur said.  “They were impressive. 
They had Troj and Raza, and Southern Claw vehicles and equipment.  Human, Vuul and Doj soldiers.  Heavy artillery.  A truly frightening force.”

“Why are they going to Rimefang Loch?” Ronan asked.  He was prepared for them not to tell him, and was surprised when they did. 

“The Witch’s Eye,” Ankharra said. 

Ronan looked at Maur, then back at Ankharra. 

“What’s wrong with your eye?”

Crylos laughed.

“I told you
someone
would say it sooner or later.”

“I was hoping for
later
,” Ankharra said.  “The Witch’s Eye is some sort of magical device.  We don’t have a lot of details about its exact nature, but we do know it’s located somewhere in Rimefang Loch.  Whatever it is,
everyone
seems to want it.”

“Define
‘everyone’,” Maur said.

“
The Ebon Cities, Koth, Fane, and even the Revengers want this Witch’s Eye,” Crylos said.  “But nobody seems to know exactly what or where it is.  Intelligence reports indicate that Ebon Cities scouts are using the fighting in the Loch as cover for their search.”

Ronan looked at Maur.

“Why are you telling
us
?” he asked.

“I
’ve been authorized to recruit assistance wherever and however I can,” Crylos said.  “We’ve been ordered to rendezvous with a division of Bloodhawks out of Ath, find out what’s going on and assist the Grey Watch, who are scouting the area and searching for signs of activity.”

“I don
’t get it…what the hell is so important about this Eye?” Ronan said.  His head hurt.

“We have reason to believe,”
Ankharra answered, “that the Witch’s Eye is a weapon.  Whatever it is, the vampires are afraid of it.”  She smiled.  “The White Council seems to think that warrants an investigation.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

Maur nodded.  Ronan sh
rugged. 

He
’d never thought about what would happen if the team was gone.  It had never really seemed a possibility: Cross knew his shit, and even when they were placed in terrible situations they always found a way to pull through.

Nothing lasts forever
, I guess
.

“Are you offering Ronan and Maur a job, or what?” Maur asked.

“Yeah,” Crylos said.  “We are.  At whatever your going rate is.  We could use men with your experience. I’m very sorry to hear about your teammates.  Like I said, I had the pleasure of working with them.  They saved a lot of lives.”

Ronan looked at Maur, but he already knew what the Gol was going to say.  He was too damned noble for his own good.

What have you got to lose?
he asked himself. 
What the hell else were you going to do when you got back to Thornn?

Kane was dead
, and even if Black and Cross were still alive he had no way of knowing where they were. 

Maur nodded. 
Cross would want this
, that nod said, and Ronan agreed.

He gave Crylos their answer.

SEVEN

CAGE

I keep moving from one prison to the next.

The wagon rolled
across the plains, crushing old rocks beneath its iron-rimmed wheels.  Spine-backed hills stood in the distance, past a grey landscape covered by drifts of gravel and chalk.  Frozen clouds hung beneath a burning blue-white sun.  The air was cold and dead and tasted like burned meat. 

Cross stared out
from behind iron bars he gripped with cracked and calloused hands.  His lips were raw and bloody, and his tongue was swollen from thirst. 

They were a motley crew inside, and a worse one outside.  He was one of a dozen prisoners, ruddy-faced and dirty, scarred and beaten.  Their clothing was so covered with filth and grime the
captives themselves looked like rags.  The inside of the wagon was large but still felt crowded.  When the other prisoners looked at him they had murder in their eyes, so Cross stared out into the cold desert called the Bone March.  He hadn’t been through that region for a very long time.

Someone vomited
out between the bars.  Cross tried to ignore the cloying stench.  He just watched the land, imagining now and again that he saw shapes moving among the cold and distant dunes.

Their jailors were mercenaries
, soldiers for hire who scoured the wastes for refugees from devastated settlements, survivors from lost caravans, stranded soldiers, or lone travelers.  They used superior numbers, weapons and magic to take prisoners and ferry them to armistice towns like Dirge or Lorn to sell as slaves.  They’d been scouting the area near the Carrion Rift when Cross had climbed out.

My luck is so shit
ty it’s not even funny anymore. 

Pain flashed
across his fingers.  One of the gang rode a dark stallion up to the wagon and used a riding crop to smack Cross’s hand where he gripped the bars.  The man was tall and lean, dark-skinned and dressed in dirty leather armor.  He wore a soiled bandana, a bandolier packed with knives, and dark sunglasses that framed his dirty face.

“Wake up, man!” he laughed. 

Cross had counted seven in the gang altogether – there were five riders, all on horseback, plus two more that sat on top of the wagon and steered the team of draft horses.  Most of the gang was human, save for one Vuul and one Gol, and all of them dressed in mismatched armor and carried small arms, blades, hammers and whips.  Their clothing and equipment was soiled with pale dust, lending them a ghost-like appearance.  There was one female among them, a vicious masked woman named Kala who wore a pair of scimitars behind her back.  Joro, the man who’d struck Cross’s hand, was a sniper.  The carriage driver was a Gol called Rask. 

Cross
hadn’t caught the other’s names, except the leader: a lean and scruffy mage named Tain.  He felt the man’s spirit in the air, always – she was never far from the caged wagon, and now and again she slithered across Cross’s skin like an icy caress.  Her touch left him raw and shivering.