“And this massing,” continued Johan, “is it to confront the Army of the Old?”
Stroan nodded. “To confront, and destroy.”
“I’d love to hear how you plan on doing that,” Johan said, not jokingly.
Stroan gave a weak smile, pulling him closer again. “Because, they aren’t the only ones with the technology.” And with that, from under his worn-out tunic, he produced the second Ark 1 Johan had ever seen.
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Esgona had found a good group to be associated with during the day; a group of families that he’d spent most of the trip assisting. The others in the party seemed to be less astonished by the destruction of the small village. The pillaging that had been so bountiful for most of them was likely a core reason why.
Now, as they sat amongst the masses around scattered fires on the outskirts of what was once Huan, he found himself locked in a dilemma. He had no want or need to accompany the idiot across the way into the deeper mountains, where death was a certainty and it was sure to be quick and painful. He also wasn’t quite up to the trip the others planned on taking to the other valley, trying to run farther and deeper into the mountains they foolishly thought would protect them.
Esgona knew better. He knew firsthand the power of the army that chased them. It was entirely likely they were being watched even now.
He hadn’t lied to Johan; he really did want to be a part of whatever revenge he planned, but he also wanted to be sure he’d live to see it played out.
He sat there long into the night after most had gone to sleep, watching the sky and the things he saw there. Occasionally, an officer on patrol would come by, but never stay for long. Esgona was not the most stimulating company right now.
While he watched the sky, he’d often see the passing of faint, pulsing lights. He knew that they weren’t stars, though that was the story often told to children from Tan Torna Qu-ay so as not to frighten them. They were once used for a multitude of things. Communication in mysterious, invisible ways around the planet. Distant, unimaginably beautiful pictures of the land below them. Many were used for war.
His mother was a smart woman and had never led him astray when it came to these things. They may still be around, always watching. There they float, junk in space, a remnant of foolish times.
Now he had seen the pictures they could take, the ways they could communicate, and had heard the methods they could be used for in war. None of which was useful in any way to these people.
Except one.
Putting aside the humiliation of his family and his terrible choice in friends, Esgona had seen the amazing way Johan Otan’co had with strategy and the interest he’d taken with the ways of the Old.
There was so much hate in Esgona. Hate that needed satisfaction. Here, at this junction, his only two decent options were both certain to lead to the death of everyone. Into the mountains, or the madness. As much as he hated to admit it, the option with the most likely chance for the retribution demanded by the actions he’d witnessed was the path with the person he hated more than any others, save for the freak who was anticipated to join them shortly. (Though, judging by the state of confusion Nixon was in, he doubted it would be as quickly as was promised. The phoenix had too many issues to be resolved so easily.)
He also had more to offer Johan than what he’d given him earlier about the things he’d seen. At the time, he just had no interest in sharing them. Loathing was never so easy to overcome, and he took a small amount of satisfaction knowing how hard it had been for Johan to approach him in the first place.
Something Esgona had said triggered a response, despite trying to keep it as vague as possible. A lack of valuable information and Johan still had come up with something. It may be stupid and rudimentary, but he still had an idea that he thought he could make work based on completely useless, though accurate, information. That was sadly a better option to align with at this time, Esgona decided. No doubt Johan would have a field day with his wanting to go with him. It couldn’t be helped. Besides, he had never told the whole story. The whole story was his and his alone. He may have been heavily wounded, both physically and mentally, but he still had a touch of the old, bullying, intelligent Esgona in him. Let the lower-class asshole and the freak have their fun. When the time was right, he’d show them all why he was the true upperclassman of the group.
Chapter 17
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The Thunder Run
Esgona was certainly correct. He had taken a moment the next day to inform Johan that he was going with them. Skeptical, now that Esgona could in essence escape to wherever he liked, Johan asked why.
“Because I want them finished off even more than you do, and between my two options here, going with you is the more likely way to accomplish that.”
Johan seemed to understand. He gave him the “Don’t get in our way” spiel that made Esgona’s skin crawl, but in the end the deal was done and the plan was in motion.
Esgona wasn’t the only one planning to dance with death in the Paieleh Valley. Upon learning their escort was pulling out to rejoin other forces at the Blood Sea, a sizable number of the caravan members
