The gray eyes narrowed, clearly about to tear this sprout of a man a new one, when a fresh rumble echoed behind them. They turned just in time to see one of the larger carts pulled by a four-folme team get devastated by a humongous rock. It slammed into the side of it, blowing apart the soft wood deck and making a wreck of the wheels and lashings that held the folmes in place. As the rock careened off to the side, its damage done, the now-ruined cart was sent sliding backwards, down the side of the river embankment and into the rushing water below. Cart, supplies, and helpless beasts of burden were swept away before anyone could even think of reacting.
Wyndam instantly forgot the chewing-out of Johan and ran off to assist his men with any multitude of things. Johan went to a cluster of carts at the back he knew contained the supplies of the Inja Riders. The confusion had meant that no one was left to guard the arms and supplies held there, but the hard carbines and handguns weren’t what he was looking for.
After a few minutes of searching, smaller rocks began raining down yet again. He knew that at any moment another of those giant haymakers was going to hit the Turtle. If that happened, Johan and his blatant defiance of Chief Rider Wyndam’s orders were likely to be set in chains for the rest of the trip, if not outright tossed into the Paieleh in a fit of blind rage.
After looking into several crates and wooden boxes, Johan found what he was looking for, pulled it out, and ran back to the Turtle, its sides now taking a heavy beating.
In the darkness above, the familiar rumble was heard. Johan knew what was coming.
The Turtle was empty of people, but still fully loaded with fuel and supplies. If it was hit, they’d be lucky if the whole thing didn’t go up like a powder keg. Esgona was nowhere to be seen. Figures, he thought as he ran to the front of the machine. Some things never change. A second later, Johan’s hand was up, the Ark 1 already charging.
Straight ahead of them, he saw it; dark and gray, the largest one sent down yet. He suddenly questioned if this was going to work on something so large. Too late now, he supposed, and pulled the trigger.
Though Ark 1s have no recoil (a benefit of their design), the sound they make can be enough to startle anyone pulling the trigger for the first time. Couple that with someone who had recently experienced some very serious ear trauma and you had the equivalent of sonic head-punch the second the trigger was pulled.
The pop as it went off sent Johan back against the Turtle. A second later, the crushing bang sounded, and the boulder exploded in a sudden flash, sending chunks in each direction. They hit the Turtle, but with much less impact than the original boulder would have dealt.
Johan’s ears rang as he waited for the Ark 1 to recharge, desperate to stop another attack.
Then the rock barrage fell silent, and the attack ended.
The damage report was not good. The cart and folmes were lost, but worse than that, so were six Riders who were on patrol at the time; three ahead and three behind, lending credence to the fact that this was a calculated attack and not a random event in the valley or something concocted in the spur of the moment by an unseen assailant. It was planned and it was executed with purpose.
The cart lost was a well-stocked one, containing many canned goods found in Huan and two large kegs of water. Now they’d have to begin rationing foodstuffs and making more stops for water. With the increasing danger of the valley and the apparent enemies it contained, stopping more often was not a welcoming prospect.
The three had not seen Stroan since the end of the attacks. Chief Rider Wyndam had ordered teams into the higher grounds but each came back empty as far as useful information was concerned. They found places where rocks were dislodged, but no sign of the perpetrator. The size and scope of the attack, coupled with the attack on Huan, made it clear who and what the enemy they faced was.
The following morning the three were left to their own ponderings without Stroan to aid them, and it was made very clear any man or woman not being a Inja Rider was to stay with the carts and tend to those and only those.
Johan opted to break the silence and turn attention to the problems at hand. “We can all agree it’s a Ruskan that’s to blame, yes?”
Nods and silence.
“And we agree they attacked Huan? Possibly the two caravans ahead of us as well?”
Same response.
“Alright then, why throw rocks?”
They looked at him questioningly, wondering where he was going.
“Why attack from far away? They clearly don’t care about making a rush for it and causing as much damage as possible. What makes this group so different? Why not just pounce off the valley walls and be done with us?”
It was a good question, but Esgona, who was revealed to have been rather selflessly aiding others when the Turtle was attacked, was certain he already had the answer. “The Ark 1?”
Johan was ready for the answer. “No, it’s not that. They never would have known we had it until last night after the attack began. And can we honestly say a Ruskan Stalker in this world is smart enough to know what it is and the damage it could do? Stalkers are old, tough and
