Warden: A Novel (27 page)

He was amused to see the two camps still maintaining a healthy separation from each another, forming two long columns positioned side-by-side, as if each group were unwilling to cede the lead role to the other.

As long as they fight the Collective military when we get to Le’sant and not each other,
Barent thought.
That’s probably the best I can hope for.

He and Tana hopped off their mounts, and then Barent addressed Renik and S’to jointly, pointing toward the route he’d travelled in the snowcraft when they first discovered the
Olin
.

“Just keep heading in that direction,” he told them. “It’ll probably take you less than two hours to reach the passage we used to exit the crater.”

“We know where the passage is,” Renik said. “But we also know that the canyon is impossible to traverse, on foot or by horseback.”

“As I explained earlier, Renik, we’ll go ahead of you and prepare the ground. I’ll use the plasma rifle to burn away the ice, and that should rough up the rock underneath it as well. With any luck, I’ll be able to gouge out a fairly decent trail right down the middle of the canyon—one that will make the passage much less treacherous. But it still won’t be easy, for the horses or their riders, and reaching the crater floor will be a slow and dangerous journey. But it’s the only way.”

“Understood, Barent,” S’to announced. He jerked the mane on his horse and spun around to leave. “The Exiles will be there.” Then he rode away without saying another word.

Renik looked at Sto’s departing figure and shook his head. “We will also meet you on the crater floor, Sergeant Barent. As long as we don’t have any
incidents
with the Exiles along the way.” Renik frowned in resignation, and then he gave the reins a light tug and rode off as well.

“What are the chances of war breaking out between those two before they even reach the rim of the crater?” Tana asked.

“Hopefully poor,” Barent replied.

He saw an Olin warrior approaching their position with the plasma rifle, holding the gun carelessly in his grip with the barrel pointed in their direction. Barent knew the trigger was broken, and that in its current state the weapon was probably harmless, but the sight still made him nervous. Before he had a chance to caution the man two women dove out from the Exile formation, knocking the Olin to the ground, and kicking the gun away from him. One of them pushed a knife up against the man’s neck, pinning him to the snow, while the other jumped back up with her own blade bared, daring anyone to interfere. Barent observed a third woman—a girl, really—run out from the mass of Exiles to stand at her side, drawing her knife as well.

S’to’s voice rang out loudly, “Hold!”

The Exile Second had ridden toward them as soon as he heard the commotion. “What is this?” he demanded.

“He was attacking the Alpha,” one of the woman answered, pointing down at the Olin soldier. “We are within our rights to protect him.”

“Release him,” Barent said forcefully. “He was only bringing me my weapon.”

“Yes, Alpha,” the Exile on the ground responded. “As you say.”

She dropped the knife from Olin’s throat and pushed the man away. Then she got up to join the other two women, and all three turned to face Barent.

“These are your wives,” S’to informed him. “And they are correct. They do have a duty to protect you, even though their own lives are already forfeit.”

“Forfeit?” Barent repeated.

“They exist only as long as the Alpha they serve. When Astok died, they lost their right to live. And after they’ve finished moving your household, I will kill them myself. But as Alpha, they still belong to you, Barent. I would never do it without your consent first.”

“You do not have it,”
Barent stated coldly, making no effort to hide his disgust.

“But—”

“I said no!” Barent thundered.

His right hand drifted up toward his knife—a movement he didn’t even realize he was making.

But S’to saw it.

“As you say, Barent,” S’to replied. Then he pointed at one of the women and the fear on her face intensified. “Even the old one?”

Old one?
Barent thought.
They’re all just girls.

He looked at the woman S’to had singled out. “How old are you?” Barent asked.

“I have seen thirty winters, Alpha.”

Thirty?

“Yes, S’to,” Barent said. “Even her. I want all of them kept alive. Do you understand?”

“As you say,” the Exile replied.

Barent shook his head—partly in disbelief, but also in confusion. “This doesn’t make any sense, S’to. If Astok took these women from other chieftains, why weren’t they killed when their husbands died?”

The Exile shifted uncomfortably on his horse. “Only
we
enforce this law, Barent. No other tribe recognizes the practice.”

Barent raised his voice loud enough to be heard by all of the nearby Exiles. “Then I rescind that custom now, and claim these women as my own. They remain under my protection. And if I die, they are not to be harmed.”

Barent expected an argument from S’to, but instead saw that his Second agreed with the proclamation.

“As you say, Barent,” he replied, and then all of the Exiles within earshot echoed the refrain.

From S’to’s expression, Barent could tell this was a policy he’d disagreed with—just not strongly enough to risk his own life confronting Astok about it.

“Stay here,” Barent said to Tana. Then he stepped over to speak with the three women alone. As he approached their gazes shot straight down to the snow, as if they feared to even look at him.

“What are your names?” Barent asked them.

The oldest—the woman who’d tackled the Olin warrior and drawn S’to’s ire—was the first to reply. “I am called Jezza,” she said. And then she pointed an unsteady hand at the other two. “She is Lole…and her name is Nena.”

“Look at me,” Barent said, and all three stared up at his face. “I am not Astok.” Then he lowered his voice so that only the women could hear it. “I am
not
Astok. You need not fear me.”

“As you say, Alpha,” they each replied.

The deference they showed—the broken cadence of their speech—spoke volumes about how the women had been treated, and Barent couldn’t imagine what kind of hell they’d been through. He knew he needed to show strength, especially in front of the other Exiles, but Barent wanted these women to understand that the nightmare was over. He softened his voice further, working to allay their fears.

“I’ve already spoken with the Olin about where to place my things. I want them moved from the tent. Find the one named Silleth and she’ll explain everything to you.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Jezza replied. “But aren’t we going with you?”

“No. I want the three of you to remain behind. But don’t worry; everything will be fine. Just speak with Silleth.”

Despite his best efforts, Barent still saw an enormous amount of terror in Nena’s eyes. But that fear was now gone from the faces of Jezza and Lole, replaced by expressions of curiosity.

“As you say, Alpha,” Jezza replied.

“Barent, please.”

“As you say…”

He nodded to the trio and they shuffled away, glancing back over their shoulders several times as they trudged toward the
Olin’s
entrance. Tana strolled over to Barent’s side with her hands clasped behind her back as S’to rode off to take his position at the head of the Exile column, seemingly satisfied with the resolution.

“Those poor girls,” Tana said.

“I know,” Barent replied.

“Forget about everything I said on the ride back; keep them. Without your protection, I can’t imagine what will happen to those women.” And then Tana grinned. “Just make sure it stays platonic, Barent.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” he replied. “I may have to keep up appearances for now, Tana. But when this is all over, I swear I’m going to find a way to free those girls.”

“You know, for someone who’s about to head off to war,” Tana said, “you sure seem to be making a lot of plans for the future.”

Barent gave her an optimistic grin. “The moment you stop planning for the future is the moment you guarantee you won't have one.”

The Olin soldier pulled the plasma rifle from the snow and handed it over to Barent. Then he spun around and stalked off to join his own people, regarding the Exiles warily as he made his way back through their ranks.

Barent flipped the gun over to inspect the damage, and then he reached inside the broken trigger housing with two fingers—twisting the exposed wiring together in different combinations to see what settings could be restored. When he was satisfied with his work, he flicked the switch on and the plasma rifle began powering up. But then Barent shut it right back down again.

“We’re good,” he told Tana, and then they made the short walk over to where the Olin had dragged their snowcraft.

Barent activated the exterior switch and the top swung open. Then they both hopped inside and settled down into the comfortable seats. He closed the canopy and started up the engines, turning the heat on as well.

“Thank you,” Tana said appreciatively.

“No problem. I’m just glad the Olin didn’t try to tear this thing apart after they took it.”

“Probably because they didn’t get a chance before the Exiles attacked.”

“More than likely.”

Barent powered the motors up to full and slid the snowcraft into motion, picking up speed as they flew down the length of the jumbled travel formation. He catalogued his soldiers and armaments as they went by.

“Bows, arrows, and knives,” he lamented to Tana. “Against weapons that are probably even more advanced than those I knew.”

“That’s true,” she said. “But your troops are far more accustomed to combat, Barent. Real combat. The Collective soldiers may have better weapons, but they’ve only fought against civilians—disorganized crowds armed with only a handful of guns, at best, and certainly no military training. This fight won’t be so easy for them because your people are tested, Barent…
brutally
tested.”

“Agreed. So we play to that strength by pushing the fighting in close, hand-to-hand, if we can manage it, negating some of the Collective’s technological advantages.”

“Sounds like the best approach to me,” Tana agreed. “We certainly can’t just hang back and lob arrows at them. Well, not if we expect to live.”

The
Olin
quickly fell behind them as the snowcraft followed the faint trail at the base of the mountain range—the imposing and unbroken wall of stone completely concealing the deep crater just beyond it. Barent knew it wouldn’t be long before they arrived at the canyon and started making their way down to the crater floor, taking the first and most perilous step on their journey back to Le’sant. He also knew there was something he needed to do before they got there.

“Lean up here a little,” he directed Tana, “and watch how I use the controls. I’ll need you to fly this thing down the slope while I stand in the back and melt away the ice.”

Tana scooted forward in the seat and rested her chin on Barent’s shoulder, watching as he demonstrated how to steer the snowcraft and adjust its speed.

“It looks easy enough, Barent. Don’t worry.” Then Tana’s gaze drifted over to the plasma rifle. “How is that thing?” she asked.

“The trigger mechanism is completely shot, but I managed to bypass it. Unfortunately, that means the rifle only has two modes now: on and off. No burst firing, no feathering the power levels, nothing else.”

“That sounds kinda dangerous,” Tana said.

“It is. But I’m more concerned about the resulting power drain. The rifle will have to remain on for the entire trip down to the crater floor, and I’m just hoping the damn thing lasts long enough to carve out a traversable path for the others.”

“Well, I guess we’ll know soon enough,” Tana replied.

She watched Barent drive for a little while longer—until Tana felt confident enough to operate the snowcraft without any difficulty—and then she leaned back in her seat again to enjoy the view. Though still impressive, the mountain range had dwindled in size as they approached the canyon. And without the tall barrier to hold it back, the wind was growing stronger now, pushing up from crater floor to spill out onto the snowy plain.

“Here we go again,” Tana said.

Barent laughed. “When we first arrived on Torvus, we had a long and very boring briefing about the climate, including the harsh conditions here at the crater’s edge. I still remember the videos and multicolored diagrams they used to explain it all, but none of it prepared me for the reality. I don’t know that anything really could. Unfortunately, there’s no way for us to avoid it. We need to go through the canyon to get to Le’sant, and we have to get our troops down through it as well.”

“It won’t be fun on horses,” Tana replied. “That’s for damn sure. At least
we’ll
be in here.”

“With the canopy open, remember?”

“I do now.”

They arrived at the pass and Barent angled the snowcraft off sharply, gliding it into the mouth of the canyon and reducing speed. He brought the vehicle to a full stop and popped the canopy. Cold wind whipped inside the craft as Barent stood up and grabbed the plasma rifle, and then he and Tana clambered past each other to exchange places. Barent took up a solid standing position in the back as Tana dropped down into the driver’s seat, and then she brought the vehicle smoothly into motion, surprising both of them.

“That’s perfect,” Barent called out over the wind.

He repositioned one foot on the rearmost seat and aimed the rifle out past the tail end of the snowcraft—pointing it down at the ground, and lining the barrel up with the center of the rocky pass. Then Barent flipped the switch and the gun sprang to life. He began waving the plasma beam side-to-side as Tana drove forward.

He could tell she was struggling to keep the snowcraft level as the intensity of the wind increased, but their combined efforts were paying off. The plasma beam was vaporizing the ice on contact—somewhat explosively, Barent noticed—and digging shallow grooves into the underlying rock, exactly as they’d hoped. With the slippery ice blasted away and the surface beneath it roughed up, Barent hoped the horses would be able to find decent footing for the trip down. The angle of descent and strong winds still posed major hazards, but at least now a successful passage was at least plausible.