Chapter Thirteen

 

 

Ryan took the scene in at a glance. He saw Jak's face pale with the realization of the inevitable fall, but there was no other emotion.

 

Krysty stood behind him. Both of them had left the cave immediately, throwing on their clothes and seizing their weapons in haste. Neither knew for sure where the others were. They'd merely followed the sound of the gunshots.

 

Throwing himself on the ground, his upper body out over the edge of the cliff, Ryan caught a stout-looking bush growing at the top, then extended his other hand toward the falling albino. "Jak!"

 

As lithe and quick as a big mountain cat, the youth managed to twist his body in the air and grab Ryan's proffered hand.

 

"Hang on," Ryan growled. But it was as much to himself as Jak. The weight, though expected, was more than he'd thought, and his center of balance wasn't the best it could have been for making such an effort. His arm and shoulders burned as he lifted Jak toward the top.

 

Prone beside him, Krysty used the M-16 she'd taken from the redoubt to deliver a barrage of fire into the group assembled below. Even firing 3-round bursts, the assault rifle emptied in seconds. She followed up with the .38.

 

The group broke up, and the shots became sporadic.

 

Ryan hauled Jak in close enough for the albino to seize the brush and pull himself up. Black spots were whirling in Ryan's eye. "Fireblast, that was close."

 

"Know," Jak agreed. "Lot men, too."

 

"Doc and J.B.?" Ryan asked.

 

Krysty slapped a fresh magazine into the assault rifle.

 

Jak pointed. "Last saw there."

 

Ryan squinted in the distance, looking for the Armorer and the old man. He didn't see them. But that wasn't surprising because they'd probably gone to ground with the sound of the first gunshot. "Mildred?"

 

The look in the albino's eyes was stony. "They took her."

 

"Dead?" Ryan's throat tightened as he asked it. The group had lost people before. Death wasn't a new experience for any of them.

 

"Not know. Mebbe tried to take alive. Disappeared with man on top her. Couldn't do anything. No gunshot. Mebbe knife, but man had gun in hand."

 

"They weren't trying to take you alive." Ryan took point, holding the Steyr in both hands, and headed back toward the cave. If J.B. and Doc weren't captured and didn't know where any of the group was, it was logical they'd return there as long as none of their attackers had taken up a position there.

 

"Who are they?" Krysty asked.

 

"Man say Celts," Jak answered.

 

"Celts?" Ryan asked, making sure he got it right. Something stirred in the back of his mind, but he couldn't nail it down. He was sure he'd heard the name before, but he couldn't figure if it was past or present, or put anything else with it.

 

"Yeah. Man tell me they own land. Say we're stealing and trespassing."

 

"I didn't see any signs," Krysty said.

 

"Yeah, you did," Ryan replied. "The men hanging in the tree were the kind of advertising these people probably do. Covers pretty much all they need to say." He followed the line of the land, going downhill slightly as they made for the cave. There was no sign of the green-clad men. "You hit, Jak?"

 

The albino brushed at the blood covering his chest. "No. Took deer. Right before they showed up."

 

The cover offered by the trees and brush disappeared forty yards before they reached the cave. Broken stone littered the hard ground, still frozen in the shady areas.

 

Ryan held up a hand and halted the group at the edge of the tree line. He scanned the landscape ahead of them. Nothing moved. However, if he'd been in charge of a large group laying siege to the mountain and had known of the cave's existence, he'd have directed a flanking action to come up on this side, as well.

 

"Nothing to do but try it," Ryan said. "Hold steady here."

 

Jak nodded.

 

"Be careful, lover," Krysty said.

 

Ryan went low and fast, which saved his life. Bullets popped into the ground around him immediately. He doubled back at once, throwing himself back to cover.

 

More bullets slammed into the foliage around them and ripped leaves free.

 

Bringing the Steyr to his shoulder, Ryan peered through the telescopic sights. When the cross hairs fell over a man reloading his single-shot hunting rifle, the one-eyed man squeezed the trigger.

 

The Celt, if that was what he was, died the heartbeat it took for his head to go to pieces. The splatters dropped on some of his companions, causing them to flinch and break their concentration.

 

Ryan worked them, not giving them a chance to recover. He managed to hit three more before they pulled back. Two of them were out of the action, but he was certain he'd only winged the other man.

 

Jak and Krysty added their firepower to his, and for a moment broke the rhythm of their attackers' response.

 

"Ryan!"

 

Looking up the mountainside to the cave, Ryan saw the Armorer briefly wave his fedora out the entrance. "J.B.," he acknowledged.

 

"Bit of a tight spot," the Armorer said.

 

"Been there before."

 

"You want to join us, or do we join you?"

 

"We go with them," Krysty said. "The place where I found the pool?"

 

Ryan nodded.

 

"The fissure goes on through the other side. It'll put us on the other side of the mountain, give us some running room for a while."

 

"Okay." Ryan glanced back at the skirmish line waiting farther down the mountain. For all they knew, reinforcements had been sent for. Staying in one place could get them dead. Alive, they had a chance to return for Mildred. "J.B."

 

"Here."

 

"We're coming."

 

"Come ahead. Say when."

 

Ryan looked back at Jak and Krysty. Both of them nodded. "When!" Ryan yelled.

 

J.B. opened up with the full-throated snarl of the Uzi, raking a blistering line of death across the Celts' positions.

 

Without hesitation Ryan slung the Steyr over his shoulder and broke cover. Jak and Krysty ran ahead of him, staggered so they didn't overlap to present a single target. Ryan had the SIG-Sauer in his left fist, firing steadily at the Celts as he drove his legs hard against the ground. He felt every single heartbeat it took to get from the tree line to the cave thudding in his chest. He threw himself through the entrance and went skidding on his stomach into the burned-down coals of the camp fire.

 

The embers singed the coat he wore, and he felt some of the heat through the padding before he brushed the clinging bits away as he got to his feet. J.B. and Doc had already gotten their gear squared away, and it sat in packs against the wall.

 

"Where's Mildred?" the Armorer asked. His eyes were flint and his voice noncommittal.

 

"We think she's alive," Ryan replied, "but they've got her."

 

J.B. reached up and settled his hat more firmly on his head. Gunfire continued to pelt the front of the cave, but their attackers didn't try to gain any ground. For the moment the companions had a stand-off working.

 

"So what's the plan?" the Armorer asked.

 

"We get away," Ryan said. "Then we figure out who these bastard coldhearts are and come back for her."

 

"Could be they'll kill her while we're gone," J.B. said stonily.

 

"Mebbe," Ryan replied, knowing his old friend had a war going on inside himself at the moment. J.B. wasn't going to stand idly by and let any harm befall the woman he loved. "If we buy the farm, there's no way we're coming back for her."

 

J.B. gazed out the entrance of the cave, then nodded slowly. "Know that to be true."

 

"Something else to think about," Ryan said, shrugging a pack over his shoulder. "Give them long enough, somebody's going to get the bright idea to trot Mildred out of wherever they've got her and use her against us. Then we got no options at all. We surrender and probably die. Or we put a bullet through her brain to save her some misery."

 

J.B. grabbed a pack up by the straps. "Let's move."

 

 

 

KRYSTY TOOK THE LEAD with a torch. In places the natural light streaming into the fissure from the cave and the hole at the top of the second chamber was enough for than to navigate by. But in other areas it was darker than night.

 

Beyond the chamber containing the cistern, the fissure narrowed and shortened almost enough to make Ryan walk stooped over. The smell of bat guano made it hard to breathe even with cloths tied over their lower faces. Several times they brushed against the brown-furred bodies clinging upside down on the ceiling, sending some of the creatures into a flapping frenzy.

 

Ryan estimated they were sixty yards or better into the second leg of the fissure when they came across the boy.

 

He sat huddled up in the fissure, a cloak pulled over his body. Blood smeared his pale face, and he looked up at them in fear.

 

"Don't kill me," he begged.

 

The voice and look reminded Ryan of Dean as he peered at the boy over the SIG-Sauer's open sights. "Secure the area," Ryan said. "We're on triple red here."

 

J.B. took another torch from his pack and lit it from Krysty's. He held his shotgun at the ready as he went forward. Jak took rearguard.

 

"The boy's been shot," Krysty said.

 

Ryan could see the blood covering one side of the cloak. "Yeah, but he's also dressed like one of them." He waved the blaster at the boy. "Stand up. Keep your hands where I can see them or I'm going to shoot you through the head. Understand?"

 

"I understand," the boy said weakly. "I'm not yet ready to be reaped." He struggled to push himself up, but finally made it. He listed badly to one side and had to keep correcting his balance.

 

"Anyone with you?" Ryan asked. He moved forward and searched the boy while Krysty held the torch and kept him covered.

 

"No. I'm alone. They killed Bean." The boy's eyes were fevered and tormented. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have asked him to help me. But the Time of the Great Uprooting is wrong. My father and the others knew this. They killed my father, too. Smashed his head with a rock."

 

Ryan turned up a short knife with a worked wire handle that showed care. A cornstalk had been designed into the wire with green metal. Yellow stones had been placed into the design to represent ears of ripe corn.

 

"What are you doing here?" Krysty asked.

 

"Hiding. They'll kill me, too, if they can find me." He opened the cloak and showed them the wound in his side. The cloth had been torn, and efforts had been made to make a compress. Clots of dark blood hung in the material. "They've already tried."

 

"Who?" Doc asked.

 

"Pepper and his men."

 

"Who's Pepper?" Ryan asked.

 

"Pepper is the Prince's most favored seed herald," the boy answered. "He reaps who the Prince says should be delivered from our people, those whose paths have made them wander too far from the one vine."

 

Ryan struggled to understand the boy's words. Most of the meaning was clear, but the terms were nothing he was familiar with. He looked at Doc.

 

The old man shook his head. "I do not know, dear Ryan. From the cut of his clothes, I'd say they're homespun, very well done. As to the seed-herald titles and reference to reaping and wandering too far from the vine, I'd say we're dealing with an agrarian society. The seasons were at the whim of the godstherefore sacrifices, often animal or human, were offered to appease them."

 

"Who are you?" Ryan asked the boy.

 

"My name is Tarragon," he answered, "son of Foxglove, the druid."

 

"Druid?" Doc repeated.

 

"Yes. He was one of the finest of healers."

 

"Who are your people?" the old man asked. His concentration was total as he inspected the boy again, reaching up to capture Krysty's torch and bring it closer.

 

"We are Celts," Tarragon said. "Lugh Silverhand created us to retake the earth in his name after the great freeze."

 

"By the Three Kennedys," Doc said, squatting on his bony haunches to study the boy more closely. "You are a Celt."

 

Ryan could tell from Doc's pose that he was intrigued by the announcement. A torch flared into view ahead of him as J.B. rounded the corner.

 

"Clear," the Armorer said. "Walked to the mouth of the fissure. Nobody there. He came alone."

 

"Not alone," Tarragon insisted. "Bean was with me. He got killed. Someone put a quarrel through his belly. I held his hand as Ivory Ginnifer harvested his soul."

 

"Who's Ivory Ginnifer?" Doc asked.

 

"Lugh Silverhand's mate," the boy said. "As Lugh breathes his life into a seed so that it may blossom, Ginnifer is the one who takes us back." His brow wrinkled in consternation. "There is so much you don't know. And the Time of the Great Uprooting is upon us."

 

"And what, my lad, is the Time of the Great Uprooting?" Doc asked.

 

"Death time," Tarragon said. "When all shall be consumed"

 

"They come," Jak said when he returned. "Find out we not in cave and rush in."

 

"Enough questions, Doc," Ryan stated. "You can try again later. We're taking the boy with us." He motioned with the pistol, indicating Tarragon should move forward with J.B.

 

The boy stumbled slightly as he went, but managed a good pace. Ryan felt bad for the kid. He was banged up and hurting, that was obvious. But leaving him there for the other Celts to find was a death sentence. And the one-eyed man thought grimly, just maybe they could work out a trade for Mildred. Whatever troubles the kid had, they were mostly his and none of their affair.

 

"Who's he?" Jak asked from the back.

 

"Name's Tarragon," Ryan explained. "He's one of them."

 

"Tarragon eh? Man chilled by that big long-hair say they looking for a boy named Tarragon."

 

"It makes you wonder what's so important about him, doesn't it?" Krysty asked.

 

Truth was, Ryan admitted, it did.

 

 

 

A VLINDING WHITENESS met them on the other end of the fissure. Ryan looked over the terrain, unconsciously pulling his coat tighter as the wind ripped over him. This side of the mountain hadn't seen the sun yet, and dark purple shadows lay across days-old snow, protecting it. During the night a layer of ice had formed, making a crust.

 

"How'd you get in the fissure?" Ryan asked the Celtic boy.

 

"I walked over the top," Tarragon said.

 

"You knew the cave was here?"

 

The boy nodded.

 

"Pepper and his bunch know?" Ryan asked.

 

"I don't know."

 

"Why didn't you come in the front?"

 

"I knew you were there."

 

"How?" Ryan asked. "Did you see us?"

 

Tarragon shrugged, his eyes holding the glaze of fever. "I just knew, is all."

 

"Fireblast," Ryan said. He looked at the others. "Before we make it to the bottom, that bunch of coldhearts will be heating up our backtrail and picking us off. We try to make a stand here, hold them back in the tunnel, we're only fighting a delaying action. And if they come over the top of the mountain like the boy did, we're in trouble."

 

"Then we're going to have to get to the bottom of the mountain quicker, lover." Krysty reached into her pack and pulled out one of the lightweight blankets. "These are water-repellent. Bet they're awfully slick against that layer of frost and snow." She held up the blanket.

 

"Guess we're going to find out," Ryan said.

 

There wasn't any special skill needed in navigating the mountainside of snow, the companions discovered. They gripped the blankets tight as they could in two fists and threw themselves forward. Gravity and the lack of friction did the rest.

 

Krysty went first, spread-eagled across the blanket as it glided across the uneven snow. She managed to keep from smashing against the outcrops that thrust through the layer of snow and ice, then vanished into the forest. When she reappeared and waved that she was okay, Jak and Doc were already in motion.

 

Ryan ordered Tarragon to go next, letting him use Mildred's blanket. The boy seemed a little reluctant. Then J.B. said he heard movement coming from the fissure. Ryan heard, it, too, and spun to face the approach of the attackers.

 

"If you're going to go," the one-eyed man said, "you better get to it. Don't look like we're going to be waiting."

 

The boy nodded, then held the blanket before him and fell forward. He slipped across the icy crust at once.

 

"You next," J.B. said.

 

"Don't waste time," Ryan advised. Agreeing was faster than arguing, and there was no reason for the Armorer to go next any more than him.

 

"Be the next breath drawn behind you," J.B. said.

 

Ryan leathered the blaster and glanced down the incline.

 

Tarragon was halfway down the mountainside, gaining speed, arms and legs waving frantically as he struggled to stay on top of the blanket. Out of control, he couldn't veer away from a rotted log canted up out of the snow like an arrow shot into the side of the mountain. The impact had to have temporarily knocked the boy senseless, because he lay motionless, sprawled on the blanket.

 

Bullets split the air near Ryan as he pushed himself down the mountainside. It felt as if he were flying, except for the occasional roughness when the blanket skidded across a rock stabbing up from the snow or a tree branch that hadn't quite been buried.

 

Ryan worked to gain control over his impromptu craft, finding it easier to work with all his bodyweight rather than trying to steer with his hands. The mountainside hammered against him as he picked up speed. He zipped down the incline like a hawk riding out a thermal.

 

A glance over his shoulder showed that J.B. had been as good as his word and took to the snow only seconds after him. A line of Celts stood along the brief precipice in front of the fissure and fired down at them. Bullets pocked the snow, throwing up brief flurries that whirled in their own little cosmos.

 

Suddenly one of the Celts fell back, a bloodred rose blossoming between his eyes.

 

Switching his attention forward, Ryan saw that Jak, Krysty and Doc had found positions in the tree line and were managing covering fire.

 

Shifting his weight, Ryan aimed his descent toward Tarragon. Bullets chewed into the dead log where the boy lay and punched holes in the blanket.

 

Ryan knew he would only have one chance at any kind of rescue. He held the edge of the blanket in his fists, felt the ice against his stomach and groin through the blanket and clothes as the ground raced by in a blur.

 

For a moment he thought he was going to smash up against the log, as well, then he reached out and grabbed a tight fistful of the boy's blanket. As he passed by, the boy's weight slewed him around. But the blanket and its burden came away from the log, and they went sliding down the mountainside in a disorganized heap.

 

J.B. reached bottom before they did. The Armorer was up with the Uzi snarling and spitting brass in an instant.

 

Ryan released the boy's blanket and covered his head as he went charging into the brush. Twigs and branches broke as he smashed through. He impacted against a tree with enough force to lose his breath. Numbness spread down his left arm as he got to his feet.

 

"Lover?" Krysty's face was a study in concern as she came racing back to him.

 

"Standing. Been better, though." Gunfire continued to crack and echo down the mountainside as he made his way forward. He drew the SIG-Sauer. "The boy?"

 

"Jak has him. He's not in any worse shape than he was."

 

Ryan nodded. Gazing back up the hill, he saw a body come slithering down the pristine whiteness of the slope, streaming scarlet in its wake.

 

The snow and ice thinned out inside the forest area. Black earth wet with dead leaves and struggling grass turned to mud underfoot.

 

"Jak," Ryan called.

 

The albino looked up. He had Tarragon by the collar and was pulling the boy to cover.

 

"You got point. Move us away from here. We've got a short lead, and I don't want it blown."

 

Jak nodded and moved off.

 

"Krysty, you and Doc give the boy a hand. If he slows you down too much, leave him behind."

 

"Ryan, my good fellow," Doc objected, "that would be most inhumane, given the circumstances, and"

 

"Leaving him behind takes care of us," Ryan gritted. "He's got a heart of ice himself. Admits to leading these fuckers here when he knew we were here. He hadn't done that, Mildred would still be with us."

 

Krysty didn't look happy with Ryan's call, either, but she didn't waste time disagreeing. "Let's go, Doc."

 

"Lead on, my lady, and I shall not tarry."

 

Ryan turned his attention to J.B., who was hunkered down behind a tree and feeding a fresh magazine into the Uzi. "You need a long gun. Doc, let J.B. borrow that CAR-15 Krysty gave you."

 

Doc turned and tossed the rifle at the Armorer, who caught it easily, then the bag of ammo that followed. "Have a care with that, John Barrymore. I shall be wanting it back."

 

"Will do, Doc." J.R slung the Uzi with a full load, then checked over the assault rifle.

 

He gazed up at Ryan. "How do you want to handle this?"

 

"We fall back in stages." Ryan pulled the Steyr to his shoulder. At the top of the mountainside, a man crouched low and tried to navigate the expanse on foot. Ryan stroked the trigger once and sent a 7.62 mm round coring through the man's head. All motor control gone, the corpse tumbled and fell, ending up thirty yards down, a foot caught in a tangle of brush that held it upside down.

 

"Cover the others as long as we can," Ryan directed. He spaced two more shots across the fissure front, not hitting anything, but letting his targets know he could if they got out into the open long enough. "We should be able to keep them pinned for a while."

 

The Armorer nodded.

 

"Fifty yards out and down," Ryan said, "then set up a position while I fall back. Stay along the tree line so you'll have a clear field of fire. If we get lucky, mebbe we can add another two or three hundred yards to what we've already got."

 

J.B. touched his hat, then jogged back.

 

Ryan felt they had a chance, depending on what lay farther out. He tracked the scope across the precipice and managed to find a man's kneecap with the cross hairs. He let out a half breath, then squeezed through. The rifle bucked against his shoulder.

 

A split second later the bullet shattered the man's knee and drew him out into the open. Ryan put the next round through the wide, screaming mouth, blowing the dead man back over his cohorts.

 

"Ryan," J.B. called, "come ahead."

 

Staying within the shelter of the trees, Ryan turned and sprinted back. He spotted the Armorer fifty yards away, but couldn't see the others. He was almost even with J.B. when he heard the sound of engines up ahead.