Chris Kuzneski - The Hunters

Cobb held tightly onto the rider as they landed, then hazarded a look back. Despite the danger they were still in, it was an incredible sight. One after another, the horses leaped inside the forest, avoiding tree limbs in a dazzling display of skill and strength. Then Cobb saw something move behind them. Many somethings, in fact: all massing to form a solid line of defense.

The horsemen halted so abruptly that the American and Russian passengers were nearly spun off to one side or the other. The riders pivoted to face the enemy as the last villagers revealed themselves near the culvert.

* * *

The people sprang forth like time-lapse flowers with thorns. Anna Rusinko, in the center, followed their lead. There were dozens of them, stretched for about fifty meters along the base of the tree line. In their callused hands, they held a net that was used to trap trout and salmon in the streams that fed the Mures River.

Anna and Cobb happened to grin at about the same time: wolves’ grins of violent certainty. They both felt the growing intensity as the remaining Black Robe ATVs sped forth into the trap.

The villagers heaved as one, Anna among them. Half of them hunkered down on each end of the net, their combined weight anchoring the thick-woven lattice against the trees through which the riders would soon funnel. As the modern ATVs collided with the ancient net, those riders who were not cut down from their seats were ensnared in the mesh. Weapons fell to the ground as the first wave of drivers gasped for air or desperately clawed for freedom. Those that followed steered hard to avoid their comrades, but there was nowhere to go. ATVs collided and careened out of control, toppling riders and upending vehicles. Heads and bodies smashed into the rocks and exposed tree roots amidst the helpless gunning of engines. The sound was followed by the drone of spinning tires and the blood-gurgling groans of the fallen.

In an instant, the villagers pounced upon their defenseless prey. The elder women shielded the young boys and girls from the onslaught perpetrated by their mothers and grandfathers; there was no need to burden them with the gruesome reality of what was about to happen. These were people of hearty stock, and they would defend their families by any means necessary. With axes, shovels, rakes, and even sturdy logs, they set about bludgeoning the stunned Black Robes, ensuring their own survival. Once all of the invaders had been silenced, a murmur of excitement spread throughout the villagers. That murmur quickly grew into a cheer.

Anna was among them. Smiling, she looked up to see a grinning Viktor Borovsky coming toward her. He had dismounted and was offering his hand.

She smiled and clasped his hand with both of hers.

In his eyes was gratitude and pride.

In hers was astonishment for what had happened.

The group remounted and rode up a breathtaking hill. They went through an awe-inspiring forest to a small village that even the most expert explorer might have missed. It wasn’t exactly camouflaged, but the way the structures were set among the boulders and even the barren trees, it would have been mistaken for terrain unless you were right upon it.

Jasmine marveled at the Russian-helmet-shaped thatched huts carefully positioned around a community well and circular stone fireplace. The entire village seemed to be grown within a natural coliseum of protective trees. It was clearly unchanged since the time it was built.

At first, the riders and the triumphant villagers went to their own huts to tether, feed, water, wash, and brush their horses. Then they all began to congregate around the central fireplace — each bringing pots, knives, sacks, and other implements. Together they began to make a communal meal.

Jasmine sidled up to Borovsky. ‘How long have they lived like this?’

‘About a hundred years,’ he said.

Cobb approached. Jasmine told him what the colonel had said.

‘I’m guessing it’s exactly ninety-five years,’ he said.

The colonel nodded in agreement after Jasmine translated.

‘Did you know about the Black Robes?’ Cobb asked.

‘Of their existence? Of course,’ Borovsky said. ‘Of their presence here today? No.’

McNutt nodded and glanced at Cobb. ‘What do we do about the guys we left on the train? They’re gonna come looking for us.’

‘I know,’ Cobb said solemnly. He ended that statement with a meaningful look at Garcia, who had just finished unloading his equipment. Garcia took that as his cue to start setting up a communications link using the gear from his shoulder bag. He sat on the ground near an open space in the trees and set the laptop on a tree stump.

‘Why are you here, Colonel?’ Cobb asked the old cop.

The Russian pressed his lips together hard. His eyes teared up as they took in the village and its people. ‘Sergeant — would you mind?’ he asked Anna.

‘Not at all,’ Anna answered through Jasmine. On their long journey here Borovsky had explained everything to her. ‘You want to know what is here and how it arrived.’

Cobb nodded once.

‘The colonel’s great-grandfather, Dimitry Borovsky, was Prince Felix Yusupov’s most loyal aide. His Excellency entrusted Dimitry to keep the Romanian treasure safe from mercenaries, tomb raiders, corrupt politicians, and treasure hunters until the time is right for the Romanovs’ return.’

‘The Russians hiding the Romanian treasure in Romania,’ McNutt mused. ‘Neat trick.’

‘Speaking of which,’ said Sarah, ‘that was a neat trick you pulled on the back of that horse. You a rider, too?’

‘Rodeo clown,’ McNutt said. ‘And my sister always said it was a useless hobby.’

Cobb half listened while he thought about Anna’s last words. ‘When will you know the time is right?’ He addressed his question to Borovsky.

The colonel considered the question carefully, then finally shrugged philosophically. ‘Who knows?’ He quoted another Russian proverb. ‘“The future belongs to the one who knows how to wait.”’ He motioned for his guests to relax. ‘We can talk about that later. For now, sit, eat, rest. I daresay we all need it.’

He wandered away, Anna at his side, as the area filled with delicious smells. But before he got too far for Jasmine to translate, Garcia turned to him.

‘Colonel, I’m having a little trouble getting a signal. Where precisely are we?’

‘The village of the honor guard,’ he replied.

‘Yes, but that’s not on any of my maps,’ Garcia said.

As Jasmine continued to translate, Anna frowned, worried about revealing their location. But Borovsky just tilted his head.

‘We are on the Transylvanian Plateau,’ he told them. With that, he playfully bared his teeth, curled his fingers into hooked claws, and hissed loudly like a vampire.

‘See, I told you!’ McNutt said. ‘Even he knows Dracula is out there somewhere.’

Borovsky smiled, his spirits buoyed by the levity, if only for a moment.

Cobb did not have to worry about the Black Robes. At least, not yet. Scouts had been sent into the field to watch for them. For the time being, he knew the wisest thing to do was to sit, eat, and collect his thoughts.

The meal was delicious. They started with sarmale , but instead of the usual mincemeat, the vine leaves were filled with minced apricots, plums, and cherries. The appetizer was followed by a hearty vegetable soup, which they sopped up with mamaliga , better known as ‘the bread of the peasants’. The main course was broiled fish in garlic sauce.

‘All from our own gardens, streams, lakes, and ovens,’ Decebal said proudly.

Cobb only left the circle of villagers when Garcia had finally established the connection to Papineau. After Cobb brought him up to speed, he waited silently.