"They’ll reach the crest of the hill in an hour." John straightened. "They weren’t moving fast."
"Only ten. Moving slow," Lafi’shir said quietly. The fingers of his right hand moved thoughtfully between half formed signs.
"They probably aren’t looking for us," Saimura commented. He smiled briefly at John and offered him a drink from his canteen. John took it happily.
"They may not be looking, but they’ll find us," Lafi’shir said.
"We could pick them off," Pirr’tu said. "We’ve got the high ground."
"We kill them and more rashan’im will come looking for them. Ten riders don’t just disappear," Tai’yu replied. "We’ll only end up drawing more attention to this road."
"That we can’t do." Lafi’shir stood and looked to both Tai’yu and Pirr’tu. "Get the men up. We’ll have to make for Gisa and hope they don’t wonder too much about our wagons once they crest the hill."
Tai’yu and Pirr’tu went to work. John noticed that despite the danger of their situation, both men kept their voices low and their expressions calm.
John considered the four big wagons and the teams of tahldi. Unlike the Fai’daum fighters, they required the even ground of an open road to move easily, especially in this snow. The winding road leading down to Gisa could clearly be seen from where they stood.
Once the rashan’im reached the crest of Whitestone Hill, they would spot the Fai’daum wagons right away. Maybe they would mistake Lafi’shir’s men for merchants, but John doubted that. It would be a strange group of merchants who traveled in such a large number and took such heavy wagons along this narrow, treacherous route to the Gisa railway station.
"What if we distracted them? Drew them away from the hill?" John asked.
"What are you thinking of?" Lafi’shir’s heavy brows rose slightly and John caught a rare glimpse of his pale gray eyes.
"I’m a fairly recognizable man, here in the north," John said. "By now all the Bousim rashan’im will have seen my bounty poster. If they encountered me on the road, I bet they’d follow where I led them in the attempt to take me."
"They might well succeed," Lafi’shir said.
"But it could be worth the risk," John replied.
John dreaded his own words, but at the same time, he knew he had to find out if he could control his power in a battle. He needed to see how much the Rifter could endure without pulling down destruction on his own allies. This way he would be able to test himself without endangering the other Fai’daum.
"No, there has to be another way." Saimura shook his head. "What if we blocked the road before the rashan’im could reach the top of the hill? We could start a rock slide."
"The shipment behind us will need the road clear," Lafi’shir replied. He turned his attention back to John. "Arren and Ji both swear that you’re something special. So, go on and show me what you can do. Get me two hours and I’ll be in your debt."
Yes, sir. John gave the hand sign.
"I should go with him," Saimura said softly.
"Not today, Saimura," Lafi’shir replied calmly. "The men need your strength. And if Jahn fails, I’ll need your gun."
Saimura bowed his head.
"Be careful," Saimura told John. Then he turned and strode back to where the men hunched beside the wagons.
Don’t let them take you alive, Lafi’shir signed to John. Better to die in battle than betray your comrades under torture.
The last thing John wanted to think about was torture. He’d endured enough of that in prison already. Instead he tried to keep his thoughts calm and practical.
"You should probably take my rifle." John swung it off his shoulder and handed it to Lafi’shir. "If I’m carrying a gun, the rashan’im will know I’ve been with the Fai’daum. They might wonder if there are others."
Lafi’shir took the rifle.
"If you live, meet us at the Hearthstone Hostel in Gisa. We should be there by late afternoon and we’ll stay at least three days after that."
John saluted and then moved quickly back down the slope. Snow rolled and split around his legs as he ran. He reached the edge of the road in minutes. He lingered beneath the cover of the dark pines that lined the road. He could hear the rashan’im coming closer. Their tahldi made soft huffing noises and the riders absently murmured to the animals.
John didn’t want to think of the night he had ridden behind Alidas as Bousim rashan’im slaughtered Fai’daum men, but he couldn’t keep it out of his thoughts. He remembered Alidas firing his rifle and the side of a young man’s head spattering apart.
Would that hurt worse than two broken hands? Could he recover from it? John’s hands trembled and he knew it wasn’t just because of the cold.
He took in a deep breath of the cool air and felt oxygen saturate his lungs and blood. If anyone could survive this, he could.
John pushed the hood of his coat back, knowing his curling blond hair would quickly catch the attention of the approaching riders. Through the trees, he caught a glimpse of the dark green Bousim uniforms. He stumbled forward onto the road, pretending to stagger as if he had not expected the sudden open expanse. The riders reined their mounts to a halt.
John froze before the riders, returning their startled, wary gazes. He took in their tanned faces and their sleek rifles. A panicked urge to run surged through him, but he forced himself to stand still and wide-eyed like a stunned tahldi surrounded by wild dogs while the rashan’im took him in. A look of recognition lit the closest rashan’s face.
"You," the rashan said.
John bolted off the road and down the hill. He heard the rashan’im charging after him. They were too close. John dodged into a tight cluster of trees. He heard the loud crack of a rifle shot. A sapling to John’s left suddenly split apart. Fear clenched through John’s gut. He poured his strength into his legs and sprinted ahead.
He ducked beneath branches and leaped over jagged stones, knowing by instinct where they lay beneath the deceptively soft snow.
Behind him, he heard his pursuers crash through the trees. One of them shouted at John, ordering him to halt. John ran harder. Again, he heard the loud report of a rifle. Something hot punched into his shoulder. John threw himself forward with the force of the impact. He leaped over a thick tangle of dark brambles and kept running.
The muscles of his legs burned. A dull pain throbbed out from his shoulder. He dodged between trees, running half-blind down the steep incline of the hill. His heartbeat hammered through his body, every pulse racing to sustain his desperate pace.
Three more shots rang out. Almost instantly John felt bullets tear into his back. One slashed across his neck. A spray of brilliant blood colored the snow. Explosions of pain burst through John’s body as he forced himself ahead.
Another bullet ripped through the meat of his thigh. John’s leg buckled. He couldn’t afford to fall. He couldn’t let the rashan’im take him. John plunged through a cluster of sagging fir trees. He collapsed down to one knee, then shoved himself up to his feet.
The rashan’im charged after him. John glanced back in time to see the dark silhouette of a tahldi rising over him. He caught a glimpse of the rider’s triumphant face. John threw himself forward. His back and leg screamed against the movement. The tahldi landed, sending snow flying. The rider urged the tahldi after John.
John limped backwards as the tahldi lowered its long horns towards him. Tears of pain poured down John’s cheeks.
He felt the ground beneath his feet tremble. The sky shuddered, growing dark. His pain raged for release. Fire and lightning flickered through his thoughts. But John didn’t allow them free reign. Instead he drew the agitation from the earth and air, feeding its power into his ruined body.
A deep heat flushed through him. Suddenly the lightning motion of the tahldi seemed slow, easy to anticipate. John dodged the animal’s horns and sprang aside. He turned and ran. This time his muscles flexed and threw him forward as if he were weightless. Blood poured from his wounds, but he felt nothing. John gasped in deep breaths of the frigid air, tasting the sharp pine of the forest. He exhaled white steam. His body flooded with wild exhilaration.