51. Deception
51 – Deception
Andy led his little band of night stalkers through the desert, skirting any scrub brush or dried-out cacti skeletons, careful to give them a path that wouldn’t reveal them before they were ready. The plan was for him to lead the others close, then they’d all fan out a bit while Andy circled to the far side of the Hardheads’ encampment. He’d be the one to break the silence, hopefully drawing the enemy scouts' attention in his direction and giving the others a chance to get even closer.
They were about halfway, maybe a couple of hundred yards from the big mesquite where the Hardheads were camped, when something tickled Andy’s nose, though—something that didn’t fit. He froze, holding up a hand to signal the others to stop moving. Sniffing delicately, focusing on his Reaper’s Senses, he tried to untangle the scent from all the other things he was smelling. It had a chemical tang, an oily, smoky undertone. Kerosene? The thing was, the smell wasn’t coming from the direction of the enemy encampment.
Andy turned and quietly padded closer to Lucy. “Wait here a sec. I smell something I need to check out. Pass it on.” The whites of Lucy’s eyes glowed in the moonlight as she nodded, turning to tiptoe closer to Brian. Meanwhile, Andy drifted into the shadows, running a few dozen yards to a cholla, careful not to step on the many spiny pads scattered around its base.
The wind shifted as he hunched there, trying to determine which angle around a nearby clump of dried-out tumbleweeds would take him closer to the scent. The change in the breeze blew a much more pungent waft of the kerosene scent into his nose along with a heady mix of other scents—human sweat and the things they wore to cover it up, tobacco, alcohol, and something Andy didn’t recall smelling, but recognized right away—horses.
They smelled close, but why couldn’t he hear anything? Why couldn’t his amazing night vision see anything? Was it the wind? Could scents carry so far? Or were they hiding themselves and silencing their sounds somehow… Magic? All Andy knew was that there was something very off, and the idea of the four Hardhead scouts lying around badmouthing their settlement was feeling more and more like a trap. Trusting his gut, he turned and hurried back to the others.
When he slipped out of the shadows, Bella cursed softly, and Andy hissed, holding a finger to his lips. Whispering, he said, “Something’s off. It’s feeling like a trap.”
“Huh?” Tucker breathed, leaning close.
“I can smell kerosene and horses, but I can’t see anything. It feels like a trap—like they have a way to hide, but maybe not their smells.” Andy shrugged. “Listen, they could be watching us. Remember, we’re not the only people who have magic! I think you all should hurry back to the trail—I mean, up to the settlement. They might attack any second, and if they have horses…”
“We can fight on the trail, even if there’s more of them,” Omar whispered, turning. “Come on.”
“Wait!” Lucy hissed. “What about you, Andy?”
“I’m gonna figure out what’s up and try to slow them down.” He nodded to Omar. “Go with him, and you guys need to hurry. I have a feeling things are gonna get wild when they realize we’re not falling for their trick.”
“Be careful!” Lucy whispered, staring hard at Andy.
“Don’t try to kill them all!” Bella admonished, before turning to follow Omar.
“Bro, are you sure…” Brian asked, his whispered words trailing off.
Andy smiled and nodded. “I can move fast and hide. Go on!”
They all moved off, even Tucker, without another sound, and Andy was grateful that the moon had come out to illuminate the Catalinas, which would make it easy for them to maintain their northeasterly course back to the gravel road outside the settlement. He watched them for just a few seconds, then he turned and followed his nose again.
###
Rhodes looked at Heath, scowling as the pasty little bastard winced, his lips trembling through some kind of silent mantra he claimed helped him focus. “How much longer?” His horse stamped and snorted, likely sensing his tension.
Heath didn’t respond right away. He had to steady himself, pressing a hand to his forehead before he blinked up at him, and said, “I can do a few more minutes.”
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Rhodes shifted his attention to Bree. “Still got eyes on ’em?”
She shook her head. “I will in a minute. Cheechee saw a mouse.”
“Goddammit!” Rhodes growled.
“Chill out, asshole! You wouldn’t have a plan without Cheechee, and he’s just an owl! It’s hard to keep him focused.”
Rhodes scowled at her, but didn’t put words to the thoughts that ran through his mind. Instead, he looked up, scanning over their little raiding party. Fifteen men and women—good fighters, all. Only two mounted, including him, but that was two more than they’d need, probably. With the four they had playing bait, they had that little dickhead’s team way outgunned.
“Cheechee is coming around. They… Huh.”
“Huh?” Rhodes spun on her, his glove squeaking as he squeezed his axe handle.
“Hang on!” she said, in that weird, hollow voice that meant she was deep in her talent. Rhodes hated how she looked when she was using her connection to her bird. Her damn eyes turned all milky white, and her face got slack—it was unnerving. “They moved when Cheechee was distracted, that’s all. I’m looking… Oh shit!”
“Shit?”
“They’re running back toward that dirt road. The one that leads to their base.”
“What the fuck? That little sneak spotted our bait! They should be coming in hot!” Rhodes wanted to hit something, but with an axe in his hand, it wasn’t a good idea.
Just then, a soft gasp followed by a thud drew everyone’s attention toward the far side of their crowded party, where Manny had fallen out of his saddle. “The hell happened to him?” Rhodes asked, jerking his reins, so his horse turned toward the commotion. Before anyone could answer, Manny’s abandoned horse got spooked, its big eyes rolling in their sockets and its ears lying back. It stamped, and several people panicked, pushing away from the animal, causing more of a ruckus.
“Jesus Christ!” someone cried. “He’s bleeding like a sieve!”
###
Andy slipped through the shadows, following the strange scents that kept coming to him every time the wind shifted from the east and came up more from the south. In his head, he tried to keep track of where the four “sleeping” Hardheads were, and he was pretty sure they were off to his left, north of him. He came to a big open area—some flat, hard desert ground surrounded by prickly pear cacti and covered in dry, yellow grass. It looked like a place where ranchers might let their cattle range.
One side of the little pasture was bordered by a wash—a dry river where water would run in the event of a downpour—and big mesquites and palo verdes grew along its bank. Andy darted that way, intending to use the trees as cover. He’d made it about four steps around the edge of the pasture when something very strange happened.
He felt a cold pressure against his skin, and then, like he was stepping through a bubble, he passed through a kind of veil and found himself crouching low in the dark grass beside a large group of people and a couple of horses. They were speaking openly, chatting and laughing, and even had a torch burning at the center of the group—a big, bright one that stank of kerosene. Luckily, thanks to the torch and the night, there were plenty of shadows shifting around, and they’d continued to embrace Andy, despite his passage through whatever magical barrier had kept the group secret.
Andy quickly counted—fifteen, he was pretty sure, but they were shifting a lot and some were shorter than others, so he wasn’t positive. Whatever the exact number, it was too many for him and the others; he was glad he’d sent them home. He was thinking about whether he should retreat immediately, before someone might happen to glance his way and focus a little too much on the shadows, when he started to pick up little snippets of conversation that gave him pause:
“…gonna mess those guys up.”
“Bree says their little sneak bought the playacting. She saw it through her bird’s eyes.”
“Damn cool she got that ability. All I can do is throw knives.”
Andy started to put a picture together in his head about how they’d set this trap at the perfect time. Did one of them have a bird watching him? Then one of the men on horseback spoke, and it all got a little clearer.
“Still got eyes on ’em?”
A woman—too short for Andy to see—on the other side of his horse responded, “I will in a minute. Cheechee saw a mouse.”
Andy felt his heart rate increase. She hadn’t realized the others had left yet. When she did, they were going to spring their trap and chase them down. Andy had a good feeling that Omar and the others could make the settlement before these guys caught them—barring more magic—but not if you took the horses into account.
As the leader continued to bark questions at the woman, Andy slipped around the edge of the clearing, making his way toward the other horse. A man was sitting in the saddle, and he had a crossbow on his back and a long spear in his hands. Honestly, it was a nicer-looking spear than Andy’s. Seeing his target more clearly, Andy’s conscious mind caught up to his instincts, and he realized he was about to take him out. Without a second thought, he reached up to the tip of his spear and, with a trickle of mana, rubbed out the sigils he’d put there.
Stealth was key, and he didn’t want to draw instant attention to himself with a fiery burst of magic. Spear ready, Andy glided up along the flank of the horse, focused on a perfect soft bit of flesh just under the rider’s right ribs, and thrust his spear toward it—stab, twist, withdraw. The shadow-clad spearhead slid through the air like a whisper. It pierced the man’s leather vest like it wasn’t there, and then it twisted and glided back out as if Andy had stuck it in water, not resilient muscle and fleshy organs.
Andy was moving before the man knew he’d been stabbed, slipping away toward the mesquites on the side of the clearing. He heard the commotion when the rider fell, he heard the leader’s shouted inquiries, and then someone screamed.
“Torches!” the leader howled. “Light ’em up! Heath, drop this damn cloak and start tracking him with magic! I want this little fucker found!”