“That’s more of a— Wait, stop. Over there.” I reached over and double tapped on a suspiciously bright section of the video and the camera zoomed in. “Keep an eye on them, I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Tomas asked as I hotfooted it back down to our packs below.
“Did they do anything?” I asked when I returned, rifle in hand.
“They’ve just looked around a bit.”
I pushed the bipod legs out as I went prone. “Battery?”
Whether it was mimicry or chance, Tomas sank down the rock next to me as he quietly replied, “It’s still yellow. You know I can’t read anything on this right? Like, Jenna was teaching me a little bit of your language, but I barely know anything.”
Squinting, I focused on the group the drone had spotted. The fact they were mounted complicated things a little as visual distance estimation usually relied on assuming the person was average height, but with a little precision guesstimation dialed them in at around six hundred yards.
“I’ve got eyes on them, Tomas. Zoom out a bit, look around. Is there anyone else out there?”
Tomas made uncomfortable noises while seconds passed. The horsemen in the distance continued slowly ambling toward us. “Not a lot of trees or bushes out there, so unless they have friends the size of rabbits, they’re alone.”
“See if you can’t get the drone off to one side a bit. I can’t tell what weapons they’re carrying. If the battery goes red, call it back.”
“Uh, sure, doing it. Give me a bit.”
The lead horseman was not quite the mountain Millwall was, but he was big enough that I wondered how the horse under him carried him and his armor without looking like its spine was going to snap.
At this distance, I couldn’t quite tell what sort of armor he was wearing under the dark green cloak, other than it was curiously non-reflective and probably metal, just like the metal helm he wore. Other than the reins, his similarly non-reflective gauntleted hands were empty. Cheap camouflage, maybe? Rub some dirt and grime on it to break up the reflection? The guy had a trio of small lances tied off to one side of the side of the horse and what might’ve been a goddamn halberd on the other side. The horse didn’t have any sort of barding, but its tack matched the colors of the riders: red and green checkerboard. So odds are, they’re all the same team at least.
“Red and green checkerboard, both dark. Those colors ring any bells?”
“Eh, no.”
“Are you sure they’re not Kharkan?”
Tomas loudly inhaled through his nose. “I don’t think they are. Most Kharkan colors are black and some other color, usually split to two fields, left and right.”
I shifted point of aim to the second in line. Much skinnier, hair tied back, auburn. I squinted, trying to make out detail. Something about the way the bowman sat in the saddle itched in my brain.
“Tomas, second rider. Look female to you? I can’t quite tell from this distance.”
“Uh, hold on, swapping off thermal. Yeah, definitely female. Drone’s in place. First rider, definitely a knight of some flavor based on posture, but that’s pretty light armor for a knight. Second, archer, definitely a woman. Bit of a hottie, actually. Third, hard to place. Crossbow suggests archer, but the sword on the hip says otherwise. Fourth, caster of some sort. Could be a mage, could be a priest. They’re fiddling with a scroll now that they’ve stopped, looks like they’re sketching something. Last rider looks a lot like the third, same sort of gear.”
“Thoughts? Brigands, you think?”
Tomas made a noncommittal noise deep in his throat and then added an aggravated grunt. “Calling the drone back, battery just went red. Honestly, I don’t think they’re the thieving type. Sure, their gear is dirty, but that looks intentional to me. Nothing is torn. Very little road wear.”
I passed the crosshairs over the riders I could see one by one. “They’re clearly looking for something.”
“Aye.”
“Scouts, maybe?”
“If it weren’t for the guy in front, I’d say yes. Might still be, though.”
“Best guess?”
A few seconds passed. “They’re pretty concerned about their surroundings, so they’re definitely wary of running into people, but the caster wasn’t looking around like they were looking for threats. I think you might be right, scout’s the most likely explanation that comes to mind.”
“Armor on them?”
“Guy up front is wearing scale of some sort. The rest are wearing leathers of some flavor, except for the caster. I don’t know what they’re wearing under the robe. Could be anything small.”
I heard the drone on approach and pulled back from the rifle. Tomas handed over the tablet and I set the drone down back behind us a bit.
“What are you planning to do? Can you hit them from here?”
“Hit them?” I muttered to myself as I snugged the rifle up to my shoulder and braced it. “I could drop all six from here, probably before anyone figures out what’s going on. Wide open terrain like this, they can’t ride fast enough to get away.”
When Tomas didn’t say anything for several seconds, I glanced over at him. The moment I moved, he made a little jerk followed by an embarrassed grin. “Sorry, for a second you sounded just like Cailleach.”
“Oh?” I asked with a slightly raised eyebrow before putting my eye back to the scope. I was fairly sure I knew where that went but asked anyway to give Tomas something to focus on.
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“To be fair, she said something like that near the iron deposit. I kinda got lost in my head thinking about that moment.”
“Ah, yeah. Some women look pretty when they’re angry.”
“About that. She was perfectly calm, beatific even. What’s it mean when they’re pretty right before they murder a half dozen people?”
I snorted. “It means, for one, you need to go get your shotgun, quietly and without being seen.”
Maybe all of twenty seconds later, Tomas shuffled back into place with remarkably little noise. “And for two?”
I adjusted aim for the rear horseman. “Well, the second part’s complicated. Much like with our friends up ahead, you have to figure out how much a threat they are.”
“To me or to other people? I mean, you know?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “To you, in specific. If they’re only a threat to the enemy, that’s actually a good thing. If that’s the case, then you’re in the same boat I am. I prefer a partner that I can trust with my back. Not many women like that where I come from.”
“Really? They’re not uncommon in the Glade. Well, now anyway. I’m curious, though, how your world can produce wonders like that drone but have so few trustworthy people, but I think that can wait.”
“Yep. So, it looks like they’re going to come up the draw here in a bit. I’m going to slip back below and see if they want to talk when they get here. I want you to wait up here out of sight. If I say the word ‘bonanza’ I want you to come out shooting, got it?”
I felt him stare at me for a second. “Bonanza. Right. I’ll ask what that means later.”
Not quite as quiet about it as Tomas was, I did a bit of a push-up and kept low on my way back down to our packs. Once there, I reshuffled things to make it harder to notice I wasn’t alone, by which I mean I laid out our packs length-wise, mostly pointing out toward where they’d spot me from, and draped my woobie and some blankets over everything. From that point, I simply laid back atop our bags with my rifle on far side of my new bed and waited, fully intending on utilizing every advantage Some Dude had to give me.
A few minutes in, I leaned over and snaked my rolled up sleeping bag to use as a pillow. Totally to pull off the lazy vibe I was aiming for and not because leaning against the rock face unsupported had started putting a crick in my neck.
I was still silently complaining to myself about getting old when the first faint hoofbeats reached my ears. Smiling, I popped the snap on my holster. The moment I saw the lead rider’s face, I closed the message book and sat up.
Using my best early morning fast food employee voice, I cheerfully greeted them. “Ho there, friends.”
Now, I definitely am the sort of person who enjoys the hell out of jump scaring random people, so on one hand part of me found the lead rider’s reaction deeply hilarious. On the other, the sudden crossbow shot that barely missed me made things a bit less funny.
I glanced at the chipped rock over my head where the bolt struck and slowly drew my pistol while our visitors’ horses spooked and jostled, disrupting their formation. The lead rider dropped the crossbow and drew a sword while wrestling for control of his horse. The others readied their weapons as I sat up a little straighter.
Aiming for disappointed, I turned my attention back to the riders and patted the pistol against my leg to emphasize that disappointment as I calmly said, “I was going to say that you guys looked lost, but I’m thinking I might be offended by how you treat people offering to help.”
“HOLD!” the caster yelled and glared at the lead rider. “I apologize, good sir. I’m sure our friend was merely startled by your sudden appearance.”
I craned my head about over my shoulder, pointedly eyed the chipped rock for a second, and then leveled my best NCO “Are you all fucking idiots?” expression at them. “For people wearing colors, you’re awfully fucking jumpy. Care to explain why you’d randomly attack people for daring to greet you?” My smile faded into something decidedly less friendly. “Before I respond in kind, if you will.”
By that point, the other riders were focused on me and clearly trying to figure out what was going on, but the way their attention stuck to me without anyone other than the caster speaking made things pretty clear. This was definitely some military unit off doing some unacknowledged military thing that no one was supposed to know about.
I let the caster glare at the lead rider for a moment before I cut off what they were about to say. “Better yet, I don’t recognize those colors. Who are you with?”
As the caster’s took a deep breath, his face shifted from frazzled uncertainty to irritated calm. “Before I answer that, you wouldn’t happen to be with the Kharkans, would you?”
“Fuck the Kharkans.” I didn’t even have to fake the contempt in my reply and when relief filled every face before me, I added, “I suppose you’re not fond of the bastards, either.”
“No, no we’re not,” the caster said while weapons were being put away. “You wouldn’t recognize the colors because we don’t venture this far south, normally.”
I nodded sagely, still impatiently tapping my pistol against my knee. “What about abnormally?”
The group exchanged looks before the caster slowly nodded. “Well, I suppose we do, abnormally.”
“So, abnormally, you get lost a few days ride east of what used to be Kharkan territory and randomly accost travelers along the way?”
Even though he tried to keep an even face, surprise still flickered across face. “I’m sorry, did you say, ‘used to be?’”
I holstered my pistol and grabbed my rifle as I stood. Dropping the act entirely, I gave the group a disappointed smile. “I did. Considering it’s pretty obvious you’re scouts for someone who has an axe to grind with the Kharkans, tell me who you are before your horses walk home without you.”
We traded threatening stares for a few moments, some of which made it obvious they knew the rifle was a weapon, even if they had no idea what it was otherwise.
“We’re from—” the caster started to say.
The lead rider’s head snapped around. “Issac, no!”
“What’s it cost us, Arvid?” Issac retorted. “He’s clearly no friend of the Kharkans and something major clearly happened we don’t know about.”
Lightly stroking the fletching on an arrow in the quiver at her hip, the woman’s eyes never left me. “Like it or not, Issac’s right. Might save us some time.”
“Or ruin everything,” the rider in the back muttered.
Issac shook his head, sighed, and offered an apologetic smile. “Please excuse my companions for their lack of manners. We’re from Styrkgard, part of the newly founded Free States Alliance a few weeks north of here. Might I ask your name, good sir?”
None of that rings a bell. Was that part of Acadia at one point? Wetting my lips, I softened my posture a little by lowering the rifle a smidge. “Samuel Byrne, most recently from Fiddler’s Green.”
“The Kharkan flag no longer flies over the Green then?” When I nodded, he prodded further. “Whose flag does, then?”
I shrugged. “That hadn’t been decided when I left.”
Ignoring the glances from his party members brought about by that comment, Issac merely nodded. “So, recent occurrence. It’s fortunate our paths crossed. Might I ask which colors were being considered?”
I gestured with my off hand as I shrugged even deeper. “I wasn’t part of that particular discussion, but there were several options I heard mentioned.”
After a few seconds of pregnant silence, Issac’s eyebrows lowered a bit right before he prompted me. “And what might those be?”
“The Green’s own colors.”
“Or?”
“The blue of Acadia.”
Save Issac, the entire group tensed. “Several implies more than two, Mister Byrne.”
I grinned. “The Green of Syr’d’Sylvan.”
Everyone froze. I caught the caster’s fingers twitch and felt a sudden chill pass through me. As Issac’s eyes started to rise to the rock face above me, I called out, “Tomas, you can step out.”
All eyes went up for a few moments and only half of them came back down to me. In that split second, I saw a spark of recognition on Issac’s face. That’s probably not good.
“Bandits?” Issac finally asked.
“Nope. Same profession as you, just different employers,” I noted calmly.
“So, safe to say the Syr are finally taking an interest outside their borders,” Arvid muttered.
Only so many reasons for a nation to send scouts across unoccupied territory. I decided to float one of those reasons. “About as safe as saying that the Free States Alliance expects some trouble with the Kharkans and decided to look for an attack route they wouldn’t expect.”
Issac pursed his lips in thought. “Suppose we rode to the Green, how would you figure we’d be received?”
“Depends. As long as they don’t think you’re Kharkan, probably fairly well. People are a bit on edge, though, so I’d try being a bit more polite with them than you have been here.”
