Django Wexler - The Thousand Names

“But there’s nowhere to go!” Bobby said. “It’s just rocks and sand.”

“God only knows what she’s thinking, but we’d better find her. The guards will probably shoot her if she tries to get back in.”

With more confidence than she felt, Winter walked through the ring of empty ground that separated the camp from the ring of guards. No doubt it would have been possible to slip between the sentries, as Feor apparently had, but she preferred not to risk it. Creeping around outside the sentry ring was a good way to draw a shot in the back. Instead she picked out the closest guard and headed in his direction, calling out when she judged he was in easy earshot.

“Coming out!” she told him. The man, a soldier from Captain Roston’s Fourth Battalion, turned around with a belligerent glare. This faded when he got a good look at Winter. After the incident in the barracks at Ashe-Katarion, she’d made a point of having the lieutenant’s stripe sewn onto her uniform. The sentry saluted stiffly.

“Sir!” he said. “I’m sorry, sir, but my instructions are that no one is to leave the camp.”

“Good man,” Winter said, trying to bluster. “That’s the problem, in fact. One of mine has gone wandering off this way. Have you seen him?”

“Seen him? No, sir. No one has gone through.”

“We’ll just be going out to have a look for him,” Winter said.

The guard hesitated. By the slump of his shoulders, he was nearing the end of a long shift, and wanted nothing more than to seek a few hours’ sleep in his bedroll before morning. Still, orders were orders.

“You must be mistaken, sir. Respectfully. If he’d come this way, I would have seen, and-”

“He might not have come past your patch,” Winter said, trying to let the man off the hook.

“But my orders-”

Bobby spoke up. “So you let the lieutenant through, and make sure to note it in your report.”

The sentry sagged, apparently satisfied with this compromise. “Yessir. Be careful, sir. Plenty of Desoltai crawling around out there.”

“Thank you. We won’t be going far.” I hope.

When they’d passed beyond the ring of sentries, Winter risked a smile at Bobby. “Thanks. Has anyone ever told you that you’d make a good sergeant?”

Bobby patted her stomach. “Haven’t got the gut for it, sir. As I understand it, a sergeant’s got to be able to drink any man in the company under the table.”

Winter laughed. As they hiked on, though, her smile faded. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, and the brilliant march of stars overhead provided at least a modicum of light, but the landscape was still a mass of looming rocks and deep shadow.

“We’ll never find her in this,” she said. “If she’s gone to ground somewhere. .”

Bobby pointed to a rock outcropping a few hundred feet ahead. “Up there. We should be able to get a good view.”

“Right.” They started walking again. “Do you think there really are Desoltai out here?”

“Could be, sir. We know they watch us pretty closely.”

“Are you armed?”

Bobby was silent for a moment, as though she hadn’t considered that point until now. “No, sir.”

Winter grimaced. She hadn’t even thought to snatch up her belt knife. For a moment she wished she’d been a little slower to follow, or had paused to round up Graff and a few reliable men. There was no helping it now, though.

“Best to stay quiet, then,” she whispered. Bobby nodded.

By the time they reached the crest of the little mound of rocks, Winter was surprised to find that she could see quite a distance. Away from the torches and low-burning fires of the camp, the cold brilliance of the stars seemed to fill the world, and they drew gleams from the rocks and painted the sand blue-white. She hoisted herself up onto a low boulder and scanned slowly in a circle, looking for movement.

“Anything?” Bobby hissed.

“I’m not sure.” Winter blinked as something caught her eye. She scrambled down again and pointed. “Look over there.”

Bobby followed her finger. Another hill, a good half mile off, was a looming black shape against the skyline. The corporal started to ask something, but Winter waved her into silence, waiting. Then light blossomed again, very briefly. A flash of orange-yellow, campfire light, looking like a firefly at this distance. It flickered once, twice, then again after a short pause, and then went dark.

“That looked almost like musket fire,” Bobby said.

“No,” Winter said. “We’d have heard the shots by now. Besides, musket fire is a bit pinker.”

“Think it’s the Desoltai?”

“It has to be. They’ve probably got their campfires screened off somehow.” It sounded like a desert nomad trick. “They’re a long way off, thank God.”

“Not that far,” Bobby said. She peered into the darkness. “There’s a little hill over that way. I bet they’re on top of it.”

Winter squinted, but she couldn’t make anything out through the shadows. “You’ve got good eyes.”

“Not really,” Bobby said. “I’ve always-” She paused, and stiffened. “There’s someone out there. Heading for the Desoltai.”

“So they really are spying on us at night?”

“I don’t think so,” Bobby said. “A Desoltai would be mounted, wouldn’t he?”

“Probably.” Winter glanced at Bobby in alarm. “You don’t think-Beast’s Balls, of course it’s her. Come on.”

Bobby fell behind briefly as Winter scrambled down the rocky slope, moving dangerously fast in the dim light, but quickly caught up when she reached the bottom and started running across the sandy ground.

“What the hell does she think she’s doing?” the corporal managed, as she drew alongside.

Winter grimaced. “I think I’m getting the idea.”

• • •

She’d started running on pure instinct, without any kind of a plan other than a vague hope that she might intercept Feor before the girl reached the hill. It quickly became apparent that this was not going to happen. By the time she and Bobby had crossed the flat ground between the two promontories, Feor-even Winter could see her now, a moving shape against the larger darkness-had started clambering up the slope toward the spot where they’d seen the light. Winter cupped her hands to call out, then thought better of it and kept running.

They were only twenty yards away when a patch of shadow unfolded from the lee of a boulder and took hold of Feor by her still-splinted arm, hauling her off her feet. The Khandarai girl’s scream was piercingly loud in the nighttime stillness, and even the Desoltai was momentarily surprised, letting her go and dropping his hands to his weapons.

Winter covered the last few yards at a dead sprint and threw herself at the nomad in a shoulder-first tackle, bowling him off his feet. She’d hoped he’d crack his head on a rock, but no such luck. He grabbed her arms and started to roll her over before they’d stopped moving. Winter slammed her elbows into his ribs, twisting to try to get the leverage to bring her knee up into his crotch. Anything to keep him off balance, so he wouldn’t realize he was fighting a girl half his weight. The Desoltai was good, though, squirming out from underneath her and wrenching her into a half crouch with her arms pinioned at her sides. She got a glimpse of a fierce, bearded face, eyes wild in the starlight, before his forehead met hers with a sound like billiard balls colliding at speed. Stars of brilliant pain exploded behind her eyes, and her stomach filled with bile. For a moment her vision narrowed to thin tunnels.

Bobby, coming up behind the nomad, was short on technique but long on momentum. She swung her heavy army-issue boot into the side of his head as though she were punting a handball, and Winter felt his hands spasm and let go of her arms. She collapsed to the side helplessly, her head still throbbing with violent pain. It took all her strength not to vomit. From behind her there was a brief further sound of a scuffle, and then silence.