Aaron Rosenberg - Hunt and run

“If that’s the case, it could be a while before they return,” Frayne offered from behind them. “So that’s good, anyway.” The fact that he was trying to be hopeful only underscored the gravity of the situation.

“The Wraith won’t be as patient,” Ronon pointed out. “She’s been up there almost an hour, maybe more. No way they haven’t picked up on her signal by now.”

“If Turen can’t cut Setien down right away, she’ll get close enough to fog the signal again,” Nekai assured him. “We’ll hide and ambush any Wraith who show up. Then we can get her down at our leisure.”

Ronon nodded. But he still paced impatiently for the next half hour, waiting for word.

Finally, Turen called down, “I’m as close as I can get, I think.”

“How close is that?” Nekai shouted up.

“Ten, maybe twelve meters,” she answered. “No sign of the rest of the snare — whoever set this is really good. They’ve got the vine supported by upper limbs from three different trees, which is why it can handle her weight.”

“Hey!” Setien screeched at that, but she didn’t add anything further.

“If it’s ten meters, she might be okay,” Banje pointed out quietly. “If it’s twelve, though, they’re both exposed.” He looked at Nekai, who shook his head.

“We can’t risk both of them,” the V’rdai leader decided, his voice rough. “We need to get ready. Turen!” he called up. “Come back down!”

“I might be able to get a little higher — ” she offered, but Nekai cut her off.

“Come down right now!”

“Go,” Setien agreed. “They’ll be on their way. You don’t want to be up here when they arrive.”

“I can’t just leave you hanging here!” Turen argued.

“You can, and you must,” Setien told her. “Go down now. You can come back up after the Wraith are dead.” But even from down below Ronon could hear the dull cast to her voice, so unlike her. Setien was already preparing herself for the fact that she might not survive this situation.

“We’ve got to do something!” Ronon told Nekai angrily. “We can fashion a net, string it across the trees below her, and then cut the vine!”

“We will,” Nekai agreed. “As soon as we can. But we don’t have a net. And the Wraith will be coming. We need to deal with them first. Take cover.” Ronon didn’t move. “Now, Ronon!”

“He’s right, Ronon,” Setien shouted down to him. “I’m already bait — no sense in offering them more.”

Ronon growled but finally took shelter behind a tree. He had his pistol in hand already, fingers tight around the butt, and he drew his sword as well, keeping the blade low so it wouldn’t flash in the filtered sunlight. It had taken him and Turen weeks to fashion the jagged Dart fragment into a proper blade, and longer for him to find something he felt was suitable for the rest of the weapon. He had finally settled on using only Wraith trophies. A Wraith jawbone formed the hilt and handle. A braid of Wraith hair wrapped around that for the grip, and the leather coat he’d taken from the first commander he’d killed formed the scabbard. The sword served not only as a weapon but as a symbol of his hatred for the Wraith, and now he focused on that, trying to push his fear for Setien aside. He’d kill anyone who came for her. Then they would get her loose and all head back to their base together.

It seemed far too soon before they began hearing sounds in the forest, coming from the direction of the ancestral ring. “Wraith,” Banje whispered, alerting the rest of them, and Ronon strained to pick up what the Desedan’s sharp ears had noticed. But he didn’t hear anything.

At least, not at first. After another minute he picked up a faint rustling. It could have been the wind, but then he heard it again. And again. It was too regular to be a breeze. They were footsteps.

But soft ones, not the heavy warrior’s tread he was used to. He glanced at Banje, who caught his eye and then shrugged. He was puzzled as well.

Ronon peeked out from behind his tree — and froze, knowing that to move again might draw attention. He had seen a flash of white among the browns and greens and golds up ahead. Then another. And another. Even with so quick a glimpse, he recognized the shading. Wraith hair and flesh. Three of them.

But not warriors. The warriors wore those helmets to protect their heads, and those covered their hair and faces completely. These Wraith were bareheaded.

Which meant they were commanders. That explained why they were so quiet — the commanders were more graceful, more stealthy then the warriors they used for brute force.

But three commanders at once? Hunting together? The Wraith had never done that before!

The others had noticed now as well, and Ronon saw each of them tense in turn as they realized the same thing he had. The Wraith had changed their hunting tactics. And going up against three commanders was very different from taking out one commander and two warriors.

Especially without Setien.

Ronon started to raise his pistol, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. Nekai. The V’rdai leader had closed the distance between them so quietly Ronon hadn’t even noticed.

“Not yet,” Nekai whispered. “Wait until they stop beneath her. Then we’ll take them.”

Ronon hesitated, then nodded. It was the smart thing to do. They’d be more exposed that way, and they’d be stationary. He just didn’t like letting them get that close to Setien.

But he knew if she was down here she’d have agreed. They had to take out all three Wraith at once, to prevent them from summoning help, and this was the best way to do it.

He relaxed his arm slightly, and Nekai removed his hand. Then the Retemite slid away again, stopping a few feet to the side where he could take refuge behind another tree.

And they waited.

Within minutes the Wraith had reached the site of the snare. They moved silently, eyes wary, weapons drawn. These three would not be taken by surprise. When they stopped, they put their backs to each other, so that they had all sides covered. Only then did one of them glance up, and then only quickly.

“What have we here?” it called out, its words hissing from between its pointed teeth. “Setien D’onbach of the Mahoir? Quite the prize!”

“An odd place to find yourself,” one of the others commented, clearly speaking out loud for her benefit. “So high and so defenseless. Almost like a gift!”

“But who would make us such an offering?” the third pondered. “Not that we can refuse, of course.” Even from here Ronon could see its sharp grin.

“The question becomes, how to retrieve our present?” the first one asked. “We dislike climbing, especially when other dangers could lurk nearby.”

“Cut me loose and I’ll come down to you,” Setien offered, which made all three Wraith laugh.

“That is a good plan,” one agreed after their chuckling had ceased. “Yes, perhaps we should cut you down.”

Then they all raised their pistols as one, and began firing — straight up.

“No!” Ronon gave up all pretense of hiding and burst from his cover, charging the Wraith. He was already shooting at them as he ran, sword raised high to cut them down as soon as he was close enough. Behind him he heard commotion as the others followed, and more gunfire whizzed past him, targeting the three commanders.

But the Wraith had clearly been ready for any threat. They split up at once, diving behind nearby trees, and returned fire, continuing to shoot up into the branches every few seconds. And apparently their pistols had multiple settings like Ronon’s because he could hear the crackle of leaves and wood burning up above. Those were no stun-bolts!