The Emperor's Edge 2: Dark Currents

The Emperor's Edge 2: Ch. 17 Pt. 1

A surprising amount of smoke thickened the air, hanging low amongst the ferns and evergreens. The soldiers were certainly not being discreet. The smoke stung Amaranthe’s eyes and tickled her nostrils. She blinked away the irritation and hung back, letting Sicarius and Basilard lead the way toward the camp. After her admonition to the others to be careful, she did not want to be the one to step on a twig and alert everyone to their approach. The last time she had been forced to fight enforcers with Sicarius at her side, it had gone poorly...for the enforcers. A victory against those she wanted as allies was no victory.

Sicarius had offered to scout the camp on his own, but she wanted to see what the enforcers and soldiers were up to. Assuming they had the same goal she did, they had a day’s head start. What had they done with it?

Ahead of her, Basilard and Sicarius stopped.

Much smoke, Basilard signed.

No cook fire, Sicarius signed back.

Amaranthe had not realized he had learned Basilard’s hand code, nor had she seen him use it, but he did so now flawlessly. She crept up and joined them. They found a spur of high ground where they could gaze down upon the camp with copious trees in between for cover. On the pebbly shore, a huge bonfire burned, easily eight feet long. The two male enforcers tended it, tossing on more wood.

Not a bonfire, Amaranthe realized. A funeral pyre.

“Looks like they had an eventful night,” she murmured, wondering if it had been wise to split her group.

The female enforcer sergeant paced into view.

“We should be in there with them.” The woman clenched her fists as she stalked about the pyre.

“You’ve got to stay here, Sarge,” one man said. “Those monsters like women.”

Basilard’s head jerked up.

“They seemed to like the men fine too.” The sergeant jabbed her hand toward the funeral pyre.

Amaranthe leaned forward, resting her hand on the papery bark of a birch. She wanted more information, but the woman paced back into a tent. The men at the fire said nothing. If there were others in the camp, they were in the tents or otherwise hidden from view.

Sicarius signed, Go?

Amaranthe exhaled slowly, tempted to watch longer or even approach. If there were only three people in there...

She pointed at the camp and signed, Number?

Sicarius’s eyes narrowed slightly. He probably sensed her scheming something.

She smiled innocently.

He flicked a finger for Basilard to go one way while he went the other. Amaranthe stayed by her tree and nibbled on a fingernail while she watched the enforcer men pile more wood onto the fire. The longer she watched, the more sure she became that she wanted to question the sergeant.

Sicarius returned first. Three sleep in tents.

Amaranthe had not seen him get close enough to check inside the tents. Actually, she had not seen him at all between the time he left and the time he returned. She held up six fingers, not sure if he had counted the woman.

He nodded. Basilard checks... “lorry,” he mouthed. No signs in Basilard’s hunting code for steam machinery.

A moment later, Basilard returned and informed them no one was on the road or in the vehicle.

Amaranthe backed away from the camp so they could talk more freely. Irritated birds jabbered at each other in the trees. One dove at another for no reason—neither was carnivorous. The weaker shrieked and flew off, while the larger assumed a surly pose on a branch.