The Jack of Souls (Multi-award winner!)

Chapter 34c - Father Kogan Slakes His Thirst

The sound of a large waterfall grew as Kogan jogged toward the final bend in the cliff road.  When he stepped around the bend, he saw the end of the valley:  a V-shaped pass only a half mile hence, with a squat stone fort plugging the gap in the pass. Outside the fort walls stood a crude siege tower and the winking camp fires of a small army. Will must be in that fort.

Kogan chewed at his beard. The report of spitfires drifted to him on the breeze. "So it starts," he muttered. "I wish you was here, Widow Larkin, to counsel me. I'm only one man against an army, but you'd know what to do. You got a head for puzzles."

Torches began moving down the road toward him. Two torches. Soon the sound of trotting horses drifted down the valley.

He cast about for a squat hole, but found that side of the bend bright with moonlight and bare of hiding holes on the one side, and too sheer a drop without ledges on the cliff side.

Two riders. He could take them, maybe. But since they moved at a pretty good trot, one could easy get away and sound the alarm, and that wouldn't do. The only advantage he had was the fact the enemy didn't know where he was.

He retreated around the bend and found a crease in the cliff with a pile of boulders at its base. Squatting in the crease, he made a little more room for himself by shoving boulders away onto the road.

"Ho, now, here's an idea!" he said aloud. "How if I make a little rock farm on the road, Widda Larkin, so them horses has to slow? Then I could pick 'em off as they slow, grabbing rats at a rat hole."  He shoved another boulder out, then tossed another.  He could hear no hoof beats yet, but he wasn't sure the sound would carry well around the bend; they could make the turn with almost no warning. He tossed chunks of rock as fast as he could, spreading them out, and soon he had a goodly garden of the treacherous crop spanning twenty paces of the road. Pleased with himself, he returned to his squat hole and laid his ax across his knees. "Widda, you'd be proud. Using my noggin. And it ain't no small help to cut off Bannus's message lines. Widda sweet, I am Willard's rear guard surprise."

The riders reined up at the treacherous spread of boulders. "Careful," one said. "Bit of a rock fall."

Side by side, the two navigated the rocks, but it was slow work, and the horses balked at it.

"What the Black Moon's that smell?" said one.

Kogan pulled them over the backs of their saddles and slammed them onto the boulders. "That—" he growled, as one drew a blade and slapped it against the knees of his smothercoat, "—is the smell of justice, ye perfumed cob." He launched the blade wielder over the cliff with a shove of his boot. The other, dazed from his landing, flew after without struggle.

Kogan peered over the edge. Too far down in shadow to see where they landed. "Rear guard secure, Will." He frowned. "Wait a shake. That wasn't using my noggin. Shoulda pumped 'em first for information!" He slapped his head, then dismissed the criticism with a wave. "Bah! That ain't my way. The information won't get where it was headed, and there's an end."

He took a wine bottle from the saddle of one of the horses, and retrieved his ax from the squat hole. From the bend he peered back at the fort. No more riders.

He took a deep draught of the wine bottle. Then took another, draining it, and tossed the bottle after its late owners. Still no riders for the rear guard. But with Bannus there, the army would not be still. To be a useful rear guard, he'd need to advance.

"Ain't my way to wait for crumbs from the table, neither," he said, resuming his jog. "Rear guard advancing, Will. I aim to do you such service that this time it'll be you what owes me."

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