respected.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” Nik said. “Will the people go into battle with them?”
“I am not a person?”
Grisha laughed as a look of consternation swept over Nik’s face.
“You’re twisting my words. Of course you’re a person! But you’re part of a paramilitary group, aren’t you? You don’t look like a schoolgirl to me.”
“Once I was a teacher. My husband and I lived in Holy Cross where the Russian Army maintained a small garrison. One night three Cossacks broke into our house, killed my husband, raped me”—her left hand touched the scar on her cheek—“and left me for dead.”
It pained him to look at her just then, so Grisha stared at the mountain.
“Friends found me, hid me, nursed me back to health. I was introduced to others who were tired of being used by the Czar and living in constant fear. Through them I received training and began striking back. One of the most satisfying moments of my life was the morning I gelded those three bastards and left them tied in the forest to bleed to death.”
“You’ve had a hard life,” Nik muttered.
“Who hasn’t? That’s why we’re here, to end the Czar’s rule over our people and our homeland. We’ve been slaves to a man and a government none of us have ever seen, never will see. We’ve had enough, we’re fighting back.”
“You’re talking about armed revolution,” Nik said. “You’ll never get away with it, you’re too few and they’re too many.”
“I’m willing to fight,” Grisha said. “And it’s because they took my life from me, twice. Not quite as brutally as they took yours,” he said, nodding at Wing, “but they took it just as completely.
“While serving the Czar I, and the men under my command, took the lives of countless men. We never questioned, never asked ‘why?’ because we didn’t care. Now I’ve killed one Cossack and I’m more than willing to kill more. And I know why.”
Part of him stood shocked, aghast at his treason, but the rest of his being cheered as elation filled him.
“Well, by comparison I’ve had it pretty good,” Nik said. “But there’s certainly no love lost between me and the army.”
“So you’ll join us?” Wing asked.
“Conditionally.”
“Good.” She whistled, sounding just like a bird.
Claude came panting up. “There’s someone behind us.”
“How many?” Wing asked.
“Three, four, I’m not sure. They’re good, they don’t break the skyline and they skirt clearings.”
“Who are they?” Nik asked.
“One Cossack for sure, and two or three others. The rest must be
“Damn!” Grisha said.
“They die just like anybody else,” Wing snapped. “This is a perfect place to take them.” She pointed. “Grisha, you take cover behind that fall of birch. Nik, over behind that large rock with the moss. Wait for my shot, then fire at whatever you see.”
They all hurried to their posts. Claude and Wing disappeared to the left. Grisha quietly opened the chamber of the rifle he’d carried from the construction site. Shiny cartridge cases reflected redly in the light.
Algeria seemed a lifetime away. His service to the Czar was a subject carefully blocked from his day-to-day mind. The government had stripped him of two careers. He was ready to try a different tack.
“No,” he hissed softly through clenched teeth. “They can’t do that to me anymore.”
He settled back and waited.
Off to his left he could see Nik. The soldier appeared calm and deadly. Grisha wondered about the man and abruptly realized he wasn’t paying attention.
For long moments he stared first at one tree, watching for movement with his peripheral vision, before shifting his attention to another tree or rock. After ten minutes something flickered at the edge of the trees.
A hundred meters to the left, and right on the trail, a man stepped out in the open. He stopped at the brush line, clearly visible. Red collar flashes identified him as a Cossack.
The Cossack craned his head around, seeking a target. He shrugged and trudged up the slope to where the trail forked, as if hunting rabbits. He didn’t waste a glance at Denali.
Grisha forced his eyes back to where they had been when he first saw the flicker of movement. Nothing. He stared at the spot, waiting. The Cossack irritated him, bouncing up and down at the far edge of his eye.
He was always aware when someone stared at him; the skin on the side of his face, just in front of the ears, would tingle slightly. Suddenly the spot actually itched. A shadow moved at the other corner of his eye.
He swiveled his eyes over and slowly let his head follow. Another movement. Grisha finally made out the shape of a man. The woodsman was huge, with arms the diameter of stovepipe, wearing a great, dark beard that stretched halfway down his chest.
That’s two. Beads of sweat rolled down his face. Where’s the other one, two? He realized that the man on his far right was visible only to him. The others couldn’t know about the
Slowly he centered his sights on the man’s chest, directly between the shoulders, in the middle of the beard. His target knelt and stared at the Cossack, rifle butt resting on the ground beside him. Although Grisha’s shoulders itched, he ignored the Cossack. The man in the trees was a much more important target.
The
Grisha glanced back, wishing Wing would fire the first shot. The only thing in sight was the Cossack. He looked back at the woodsman.
He wasn’t there.
His training instantly took over. Heart hammering, he abruptly knotted down into a crouch.
A blast from behind blew away a fist-sized chunk of the tree next to where his head had been. Grisha threw himself to the side as another blast tore into the space he’d just vacated. He rolled down the slight slope away from the attacker, but toward the Cossack.
The ridge top erupted in gunfire. The Cossack staggered backward under the force of hits and fell to the ground. Grisha leaped up and ran toward cover.
Expecting to be hit or killed at any moment, he grunted in surprise as he reached the relative protection of the forest. He hunched down, eyes flashing about, his breath shuddering in and out. He smelled sour, even to himself.
The air stood still, cooler now than earlier. The temperature would drop tonight, he decided.
He heard Claude call out, “Grisha! Where are you?”
Slowly his eyes moved over every object in his sight. Nothing moved. Where did he go?
“Grisha? You okay?” Nik called from nearby.
“Stay down!” Grisha yelled. “There’s another one over here.”
Movement to his right. Claude edged into the trees like a large cat. Nik eased up behind him.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. But he damn near got me, twice.”
Wing suddenly slid up beside him. One of her hands steamed, covered in blood.
“We already got three,” she said, her eyes searching out ahead of them.
“Maybe he moved over and we caught him?”
“Big guy with a huge beard and biceps big as one of your thighs?”
“No. We didn’t get anyone like that,” she said in a low voice.
“There’s one more and he’s in there.” Grisha nodded toward the thick forest at meadow edge. “He’s very good. Well, good enough to make a fool of me,” Grisha said and forced a chuckle.
“You’re not green in the bush. You’re just out of practice.” She looked around and slowly rose to her feet. “C’mon.” She nudged him and moved forward.
