Fireteam Delta Page 17
“We could try stealing one,” Cortez observed. She was eyeing a ship on the dock that was being built. It seemed like the city was ramping up production in response to the coming war. The ship was reminiscent of a longship, only much bigger than he would have expected.
“Do you know how to sail? Because I sure as hell don’t. And we still need food.” Nowak looked back to the city.
“What do we do now, then?” Summers asked. “We can’t wait here while there’s an army on the way.”
Nowak just sat in thought a moment.
“One problem at a time. We’ll find some food, or failing that, some way for us to forage. Bait for animals—maybe fishing gear, if it’s not too expensive. I’m not giving up on finding a ship, either. There have to be at least a few traders still in the city.” Nowak gestured to Summers. “You talk to Synel?”
“She’s looking for a way out of the city herself, and said she’d keep an eye out for wherever those guns went.”
“Good. We’ll play this by ear. If it means getting out of here, it might be better to just ignore whoever’s operating nearby. If those guns came from casualties, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were already headed back home. If there is word on any survivors, or any intel we can use, we’ll deal with it then.”
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Back at the wagon, Summers tossed a pair of notched pegs to Nowak and Cortez.
“No luck on the food. Synel did manage to find some rooms, though. So we won’t have to sleep outside.”
“Thank god for that.” Cortez grabbed the first peg. “Sarge, please tell me we’re not doubling up on guards again. The caravan’s people are going to be here for the most part. One of us should be enough.”
Nowak sighed. “Fine. We need some down time, anyway. For as long as that will last.”
Cortez almost smiled before catching herself. “Asle, you ready to turn in for the night?”
Asle looked up at the group in response. “I wanted to visit someone.”
“Who do you—?” Summers started before remembering Beorn’s family was in the city. Right, of course she’d want to check in with them.
“Could you go with her, Summers?” Logan looked down at him. “I’d rather she be with someone who can help explain things, if it comes to that.”
“If that’s okay with her?” Summers glanced at Asle, who only nodded in response.
There was a good chance this was going to be incredibly awkward.
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“How do you know my brother?” The man in the door stared down at Asle. She was more or less fumbling her way through the conversation.
“I . . .” She froze. It wasn’t that she couldn’t think of a lie. A boy had stepped out, his face looking so familiar that her thoughts came to a grinding halt.
Summers must have seen her hesitate, for he stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“We’re merchants. Apologies if they’re not here. We’ll stop by another time.”
His accent was atrocious, but the man in the doorway seemed to accept it all the same. He probably assumed that Summers was being intentionally cryptic, hiding some debt his family owed. In truth, that was probably the most conversation Summers could manage without help.
As he hustled Asle away, she got one last look at the boy behind the door.
They looked nothing alike. She was being stupid. She had to be better.
A few minutes later, Asle was still silent, staring at the ground as they made their way back to the wagon.
“Asle, there’s no way they’d have made it into the city. You know that, right?”
Asle nodded.
Summers’ eyes showed a pained expression. She still said nothing.
“All right, how ’bout this? We’ll write a letter, attach some cash, and let them”—Summers gestured back to the house—“know that their family might be waiting at the gates. After that, they can try to bribe someone to get in or figure something else out. That work?”
She nodded. That was probably as much as they’d be able to do for them. But it was still hope. And it was better than doing nothing.
“Thank you,” she replied.
Summers stopped.
Asle looked up, seeing that Summers had stopped in his tracks.
“What—?” Asle started, but Summers cut her off.
“I smell gunpowder . . .”
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Summers rounded a corner, Asle close behind. They’d followed the trail of the scent for more than a few blocks. Soon, they found themselves at the inner wall of the city.
Then a man’s voice rang out in front of them.
“Fire!”
Summers instinctively flattened himself to the wall, but nothing followed.
The voice, however, was speaking English.
Carefully, Summers moved toward the large open gate of the inner wall. He could only see a glimpse of what was happening inside, but it looked like a training ground of sorts.
A line of elves were knelt on the ground, M4s aimed at the wall in front of them.
Even from this distance, he could see they didn’t have any magazines loaded. Summers recognized it as a dry fire exercise—a basic army drill.
Then Summers saw the scarred man again. He strode past the gate, watching the line of elves carefully. They looked half-starved, much like the “recruits” Summers had seen him collecting.
“Fire!” the man yelled, and the group pulled their triggers once more.
Summers saw the man move to a recruit, correcting their form.
“Let’s go,” Summers whispered to Asle. “We should tell the others about this.”
As they moved off, Summers took one last glance back toward the gate.
Only now, he saw a young woman standing on the wall, staring directly back at him.
That probably wasn’t good.
Chapter 21: Chain of Command
“I’m telling you, he was one of ours,” Summers explained.
Nowak sat atop the wagon, the warehouse beside them still bustling with activity. Most of the caravan merchants had their guards hauling everything from equipment to crates of supplies back and forth. Much like Summers’ group, they didn’t want to stick around for what was coming.
“If he’s training elves, I don’t think he’s still with his unit. No way would the army hand out guns without some massive supervision. And you said he was alone?”
“There was a woman. Don’t know about her.”
“Either way, we need to figure out what this guy’s deal is. I don’t like the idea of running blind.”
Summers considered that. While there was no doubt the guy was clearly from their world, he remembered just how many assholes he’d met in the military.
“You think he’s got an agenda?”
“Everyone’s got an agenda. Look, you never really had to deal with officers, but I guarantee there’s some cutthroat motherfuckers out there. Until we know what homeboy is after, I say we lay low.”
“What about the others?”
“They’re already asleep by now.” Nowak looked to the distance. “We’ll explain things in the morning. If this guy’s everything you said, then I don’t expect it’ll be hard to learn something about him. The locals practically worshipped us once they saw what we could do, and this guy’s handing out weapons.”
Summers let out a breath. Nowak wasn’t wrong, but somehow, he doubted it would be that easy.
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That morning, when Summers got up from his furs, he had no doubt they had a long day ahead of them.
The inn they’d found was only a few blocks away from the wagon, and he glanced out the wood-framed window to see a familiar face. The same young woman who was with the scarred man. She was talking with one of the caravan’s merchants.
“Shit.”
He had no idea what she wanted, but it was definitely something he’d have
to bring up with the others.
Summers threw on his clothes as quickly as he could. He got about three steps down the stairs before he saw Synel at a table in the bar. She looked to be in the middle of an argument with a much larger, much angrier merchant.
“Morning. Just in time for the show,” Cortez called over.
Summers looked to see Cortez and Logan sitting with Asle, watching the man speaking to Synel.
It wasn’t long before the two were shouting. The last time he’d seen two elves fight like this, it had ended with one jamming a spear into the other.
“Asle, any idea what this is about?”
“He’s from the city. She’s cheating him,” Asle said, gesturing to Synel.
“Is that something you think, or something you know?”
“It’s what he’s saying, but it’s probably true.”
Summers had heard Synel mention how much more dangerous getting here had been from what she’d expected or prepared for. It wouldn’t surprise him if that had affected the final price for whatever goods she was selling.
“Okay . . .”
“Should we do something?” Logan looked to Summers.
“She’s a pro. She probably has it handled.” Summers watched as Synel stood, and then slapped the man hard enough for the clap to resound throughout the entire room. “Maybe not.”
Summers walked quickly to the bar as the man recovered. As it turned out, he was a moment too slow. The man’s arm shot out to grab Synel. Summers was there a moment later, his hand on the man’s head. He pushed forward, slamming the elf’s face into the hardwood bar. His unconscious body fell to the ground a few moments later.
Synel backed up, eyes wide as the man’s limp hand fell with him. She said nothing.
It occurred to him that he might have killed the guy.
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“Okay, it was cute and a little hot at first, but seriously . . .”
Summers spoke in English, his head in his hands. He sat across from Synel, who was still staring at him, wide-eyed. Things had happened so fast, he didn’t quite realize what he’d done.
From Cortez’s account, the man—who had a good ten inches on Summers—had been hit so hard, so fast, that it looked like a blur even to her. That, and the distinctly head-shaped imprint in the solid wood bar was a good sign that something was wrong. Summers was strong, but he wasn’t that strong. Or that fast, for that matter. Thankfully, the guy had left the bar still breathing, brain damage notwithstanding.
Given all the other odd side effects he’d encountered, Summers could only assume this had something to do with the fog, which had just fed Synel’s belief that he was—again—some kind of godling.
“Asle, do not translate that.”
“What is cute?” Synel asked, speaking English herself.
She was picking up his language far too quickly for him to be comfortable.
“What is hot?” Asle asked.
“Nothing,” Summers replied. “Let’s just agree that I’m very strong. No more god thing, all right?” Summers put his hands on the table. “How ’bout you? Are things going to be okay after . . . ?” Summers tried to think of a word she’d understand. “After he’s done sleeping?”
Guards had already taken the man Summers laid out long ago. Asle had, thankfully, had the foresight to steal the guy’s coinpurse, which was useful when they needed to pay for the bar Summers had dented.
“I will find another buyer.” Synel cleared her throat in an obvious attempt to hide her amusement. “And thank you.”
Summers didn’t doubt that people would be lining up for blocks for the supplies they’d brought, given how desperate the city seemed to be.
“If you’re done flirting, can we get going? We got shit to do,” Cortez called over to Summers.
“Right . . .” Summers started up. “Sorry, but we need to leave.”
Summers felt the door open behind him, and the chill winter air outside rush in.
Synel nodded just as Summers heard Cortez speak up.
“Scratch that. We have a problem. A big one.”
Summers turned to see a familiar, scarred face staring back at him from across the room. Four elves flanked him as he approached the group. They were all holding M4s.
Summers froze in his seat.
“Well, look at this.” The scarred man smiled at the group. “And what’s your name?” The man looked to Asle.
She turned her head from Summers back to the man.
“Ah, manners. Name’s Rhodes. Arnold Rhodes.” He held out a hand to Summers.
Summers just stared back.
“Now, don’t give me that shit. I know you know what I’m saying. Your name is Summers, that’s Cortez, Logan, and the woman there is the caravan master for that shit that just came in.” He gestured to the men at his back. “Keep playing coy, and I might stop being so polite.”
Summers watched as Rhodes’s hand fell gently atop Asle’s head.
Rhodes smiled again. The right side of his face failed to show anything, clean skin giving way to rough scar tissue.
Summers felt for the sidearm in his waistband.
“What do you want?”
“Good.” Rhodes’s smile fell. “Right, so I’ve been talking with a few of your friends in the caravan, and they have told me some interesting things. Well, full disclosure, I didn’t do the talking. I don’t know what the fuck these people speak.”
Rhodes whistled, fingers outstretched, and a man handed him a small pistol. “But I get by.” He worked the action. “Anyway, point is that there’s a lot of talk about you having some interesting weapons. I wouldn’t normally give a crap about rumors like that. Merchants”—he gestured to Synel—“they talk their shit up left and right. Magic spears. Unbreakable armor. You get some gems now and again, but it’s mostly bullshit.”
“What do you want?” Summers repeated.
“Okay, okay. You don’t want to chat. I’ll cut to the chase, then. I’m going to guess that you’ve got something on you that can do me harm, and I want to make sure we have a nice, civil discussion. You understand?”
Summers nodded.
“Fantastic.” Rhodes pulled out a chair, sitting down and angling the barrel of his gun toward Synel. “Hand whatever you have—all of you—to these nice men. Don’t worry. They know what they’re doing. Won’t shoot you in the gut unless they mean to.”
Summers considered for only a moment. Slowly, he reached back, unslinging his M4 and placing it into the outstretched hand at his side. Logan followed suit. Cortez just stood there, watching the man in front of her.
“Go ahead. Take it off me.”
“Fuck’s sake. All right, every time that one gives me lip, I put a bullet in that one’s kneecap.” Rhodes gestured to Cortez and Logan. “Like pulling goddamn teeth.”
Cortez watched Rhodes for a moment before she relented, unslinging the rifle from her back.
Rhodes gestured at the group with his gun. “All of it. Come on, don’t hold out on me.”
Summers handed over his sidearm, two knives, and a grenade.
Rhodes just smiled at the sight of the last one.
“Was that so fucking hard? Christ, act like I’m robbing you.”
Summers placed his hands back on the table, watching the gun.
“Right.” Rhodes tucked the pistol into the back of his waistband. “Anyway, I’m sorry to get off on the wrong foot like this. You gotta understand, I can’t be taking chances.”
“Are you with the army?” Summers looked at Rhodes incredulously.
“Do they look like soldiers to you?” Rhodes gestured to the men beside Summers.
Asle shifted beside him, already reaching for the holster at her thigh. Summers put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“To answer your question, I consider myself to be on leave. Now, there were four of you on that wagon, not counting the half-pint here. Where’s the last one?”
“Look, we don’t want
any trouble.” Logan held his hands above his head. “We’re just here to resupply.”
Rhodes brushed Asle’s hair out of the way, looking at her pointed ears. “Good. She’s not any of yours, right?”
Asle slapped his hand away.
“Shit. All right, fair enough.” Rhodes held up his hand in mock surrender. “So, where’s that last man? Don’t make me ask a third time.”
Summers hesitated.
Rhodes sighed before he stood, grabbed Summers by the collar, and threw him toward the door.
Summers cursed under his breath, recovering before he even hit the ground. When he looked up, he saw Rhodes standing there, holding a gun to Asle’s head.
“Look out the window. And think real hard about the next words out of your mouth.”
Summers stared at the man a moment before looking away, out to the street.
There had to be nearly fifty guards watching the building, some even on the rooftops. Each had gun in their hands.
Summers gritted his teeth.
“He’s guarding the wagon.”
Rhodes gestured to one of his guards. “In. The. Wagon. You got that?”
The guard nodded.
“Goddamn language barrier.” Rhodes watched the guard leave. “I had to teach them nodding, too. Ridiculous. Hell, when your girl here waved back to me, I nearly shit myself. Would have written it off as a coincidence, if every new face wasn’t talking about you.”
“Look,” Summers started. “I don’t know what you think we are, but we’re just trying to get back home.”
“Home?” Rhodes’s smile only widened. “Maybe it’s my ego talking, but I kind of expected you’d be here for me.”
“If we were, do you think we’d bring four men and a girl?” Logan replied.
“Fair enough.” Rhodes looked at Synel. She was staring wide-eyed at him. “More than fair.”
Cortez started to say something, but stopped as Rhodes glanced in her direction.
“I was just fucking with you, sweetie. Go ahead and talk.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Cortez replied.