A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [86]
As for the theory that they were here because they were criminals-it was certainly possible, if that referred to political crimes. Certainly, she could have been capable of such activity, if the marshals were any indication of what the authorities were like outside.
Pulaski doubted, however, that any of the meds could have been guilty of baser crimes. She had seen them in action. They were dedicated, concerned-if a little too afraid of the marshals. Definitely not the throat-cutting type.
The wind picked up and she pulled her cloak closer about her. The soles of her feet were starting to hurt. Her boots weren’t made for this terrain. It seemed she could feel every pebble, every bit of gravel that littered their trail.
And as far as she could tell, it was only going to get worse. For some time, they had been able to see a path amid the high ground to their right. As they progressed, the path had descended-as if it would ultimately meet the one they traveled now. Pulaski had a pretty good idea that they would be on that higher trail before very long.
Great, she told herself. That means it’ll get even colder. And in time, my boots will peel off altogether.
She scanned the descending path more closely than before, resolved to check the equipment wrappings again before they started up. The way was narrower up there-there wouldn’t be any room to slip around the sides of the vehicles and make adjustments if something began to come loose. And there were too many items in short supply already for them to…
Pulaski stopped in mid-thought, gasped. She couldn’t help it. What she had seen had caught her completely off guard.
There was a watcher on that trail up above them. He had concealed himself as best he could, but the place didn’t offer much cover. It was amazing, in fact, that he had managed to escape their notice for so long-to blend in with the hillside, despite his size.
In that first shocked instant, Pulaski’s eyes had locked with his. And there was an intensity in that gaze that had shaken her to her roots.
Nor, as time resumed its passage, was she able to tear her eyes away from the watcher’s. Not until after he conceded her discovery of him and clambered to his feet.
There were cries of surprise from the other meds, sounds of fear from the wagon drivers. For they had no one to defend them-and this watcher posed a threat. It was obvious in the way he held his weapon-some sort of broadax-and in the way he scrutinized the carts full of medical supplies.
Pulaski could see now that he was a warrior. But for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he had discarded his helmet and part of his armor. His black hair blew in the swirling winds; his savage eyes narrowed against the flying grit.
Why was he alone? Was he the last survivor of an ambush? Or was there some other reason?
No matter. Regardless of how he’d arrived at this pass, he certainly wasn’t a bearer of good tidings. He had been stalking them like a predator for who knew how long, waiting to pounce.
Apparently, there was something he wanted from them.
As frightened as they were, med and driver alike, no one ran. Everyone seemed to prefer the anonymity of the group.
So when the watcher made his way down from his perch-a difficult task, and one that he accomplished with animal ease-they were all at his mercy.
He approached the wagon train warily, his eyes darting here and there. He shifted the ax from one hand to the other, as if waiting for someone to challenge him.
Pulaski thought about how much damage that ax could do to the contents of the wagons. How many lives might be lost if the intruder were allowed to proceed unchecked.
If she had had more time to consider it, she probably wouldn’t have intervened. But she didn’t have that much time.
As Pulaski slipped between the warrior and the cart nearest to him, she drew his scrutiny again. Up close, his gaze was even more fascinating-more frightening.
“What do you want?” she heard herself ask.
Cruel eyes widened beneath that dark and massive brow. For a second or two, Pulaski thought