Russian Amerika

Grisha felt his jaw muscles go taut and he squinted at the man.

“I know what I heard,” he hissed. “There’s somebody in there.”

“Well, move then, let me see.”

Nik swung a ski pole up and smacked it across Grisha’s left arm. Instinctively, Grisha jerked away from the pole just before it made contact and fell flat in the slightly softer snow at trail’s edge.

Nik skied for the cut. Grisha stifled a roar of anger and, gripping his bow and arrow in one hand, flopped through the deep snow to the relative firmness of the trail. He scrambled to his feet as Nik passed Grisha’s skis, standing like silent sentinels.

The Russian disappeared into the cut. Grisha ran to his skis, quickly dropped them on the trail and snapped down the spring-loaded clamp over the front lip of his boot soles. Then he was gliding along, smoothly, silently, swiftly, arrow nocked, adrenaline charged. He skied into the cut.

22

Near the Toklat River

As soon as Bear Crepov saw the cut in the ridgeline, he knew it perfect for an ambush site. He side stepped off the game trail and motioned for the captain to come up next to him. When she stopped beside him, the Kalashnikov lay cradled in her right arm, her finger on the trigger.

What is it?” she said loudly.

Bear winced and nearly slapped her. “Quiet, you bitch! Do you want them to kill us?”

She blinked at him, whispered, “Are they close?”

“They have to be. Get your pet corporal into the brush line over there,” he pointed, “and I’ll take cover on the other side of the trail. You pull back into those spruce behind that large mound, I think it’s a rock.”

“Are you worried for my safety?”

He quickly searched her face for signs of mockery, but found none.

“I think you can take care of yourself,” he said slowly. “But if there’s shooting I want you out of the way. You’re the only one who knows why we’re doing this.” He skied ahead another thirty meters, stopped, took his skis off, and hid his equipment in the brush.

The corporal quietly disappeared on the other side of the trail. Crepov glanced back down the trail but could see nothing of the woman. He carefully pulled the slide back on his weapon and chambered a round.

The quiet of winter settled on him. No birds this time of year, they had all gone south to the Confederacy and New Spain. He must be his own sentry.

A voice broke the stillness. Bear couldn’t make out the words, but he knew it for human. He tensed when he heard skis on snow, moving fast.

23

Near the Toklat River

Valari Kominskiya saw the huge promyshlennik stiffen and raise his weapon slightly. She pulled back a little even though it was impossible for anyone on the trail to see her. She felt a thrill of fear when close to the woodsman and had yet to decide whether she liked it or not.

Vlad, her corporal, knew enough not to kill either of the strangers, and the woodsman had been carefully briefed and thoroughly cowed. Crepov’s concern for her safety touched her oddly. She put it all out of her mind when a man skied swiftly through the cut.

He quickly traveled past the promyshlennik, who didn’t have time to stop him, and their plan became obsolete. She had to stop him. She lunged out onto the trail, wondered which man she was about to face.

“Stop!” She held the Kalashnikov braced at her hip, ready to fire.

The man wedged his skis against the side of the trail and ground to a quick halt. Nikolai Rezanov glared at her with more feeling in his face than she remembered from their last meeting. What was wrong?

“So you did kill—” she began.

Grigoriy Grigorievich entered the cut. Crepov leaped out of the brush and knocked him off his feet.

“What?” Grisha blurted as he fell.

Rezanov twisted, gripping his ski poles for balance. Valari swung her foot and knocked away the pole holding most of his weight. He fell awkwardly in the snow.

Vlad emerged from the brush and stood behind Grisha. The corporal looked to her for orders. She jerked her head sideways.

“Get on your feet and move up next to your friend there,” Vlad ordered.

Grisha got to his feet and picked up his skis.

Valari shook her head.

“Leave the skis,” Vlad said sharply.

Obediently, Grisha dropped them and trudged forward. Crepov stayed off to the side, his Kalashnikov at the ready. Except for Grisha’s heavy beard, it was just how she had imagined it would be; victory was at hand.

In his clothing Grisha looked like an Indian. He also looked larger than she remembered, probably due to the bulky furs. He still hadn’t looked up at her.

“Hello, Captain Lover,” she said coyly, a smirk on her lips.

Grisha stopped and his eyes fastened on her. In less than a second she saw astonishment, fear, hate, and death flash across his face.

“What are you doing here?” he spat. His features became expressionless.

“Why, I came by special helicopter to talk to you,” she said.

“How did you know where to find me?” His stolidity began to annoy her.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “What I have to say to you is very important, so listen carefully.”

He nodded his head and she licked her lips.

“As agreed, we offer you your old life back.”

“What do you mean? You aren’t taking us back to Tetlin Redoubt?”

God, he could be so thick! “I mean you can have your boat back, or your commission in the Troika Guard.”

His steely grin called her a liar. “I think maybe you’re offering more than you own.”

“We still have your boat.”

“You planned to do this to me on purpose?” His face went expressionless again.

“Not at all. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But once you struck Karpov, you became a criminal. You would have been given a year at hard labor.” Her lip curled slightly.

“But Karpov, being the pig he was, had to drink too much. He reverted to a situation between us that had been over for years and tried to kill you when you interfered. You were more important than him at the moment, you could drive the boat, so I killed him.”

“But why are you meeting me in the middle of Dena country?”

She smiled and licked her lips again.

“After your arrest, we examined your record. You’re part Russian and part Kolosh. Historically your people traded with the Dena. You’re also an ex-major with extensive military experience and demonstrated leadership qualities. You would be a prize for these traitors.

“By this time they have accepted you into their organization and soon you will be able to go anywhere, see anything. Correct?”

“So? What does the Czar care about a bunch of Indians in the middle of the forest?”