Chapter 4- To Kyaro

The next day dawned bright and clear, but chilly. Flik decided to lead the men through their daily routine and thus, it was late in the afternoon when he finally settled down to another round of writing letters to unresponsive Muse officials. Or, he would have, had Viktor not chosen that moment to duck in through the door in an ecstatic mood with Sen perched precariously on his shoulders.

"We've finally got news!" Viktor yelled happily, capering around the room.

"News?" Flik asked, wondering if this conversation was going to be worth it.

"Yeah, I sent Sen up to Kyaro to find out what the Highlanders were up to-"

"Wait," Flik interrupted, rising out of his chair. "You sent Sen on a mission without telling me?"

That stopped the dancing in a hurry. "It wasn't like I was in any danger," Sen offered, meekly, as he climbed down from Viktor's shoulders.

"That's not the point," Flik answered, though it was, at least in part. "It's the principle of the matter; I said that I wanted to be informed of Sen's missions and I wasn't."

"I'm sorry," said a rather crestfallen Viktor. "He just looked bored and I didn't think I was sending him into any danger, so I didn't think to tell you." Then, suddenly, he smiled again. "Come on, Flik, it's not as if I was going to send him directly into a Highland encampment to find out how many days worth of food they have, or something like that."

Flik chewed that over for a moment, working out a reply. That reply was never given, though, because at that moment Pohl rushed through the door with a shout of "Commander, we've got trouble!"

"What sort of-" Flik began, but Pohl unfortunately was in such a rush that he hadn't noted Viktor and bashed right into him. Viktor, of course, was unmoved, but Pohl was almost literally bounced out into the hall. The three of them- Flik, Viktor, and Sen- came out to see if he was all right.

"I'm sorry!" Pohl said, rubbing his forehead.

"Don't say you're sorry until you've told us the problem," Flik said, annoyed.

"Right." Pohl blushed in humiliation. "Riou and Jowy have escaped."

"They what?" roared Viktor.

Pohl cringed. "They weren't in their cell this morning, but I thought one of you might have taken them out, but you've both returned and they haven't. I'm sorry, I know you told me to keep a closer watch on them."

Flik sighed. "I should've seen that coming. Never mind the blame; our first priority is to figure out where they might go."

"They'll probably try to go home." Viktor offered, helping Pohl back to his feet.

"Maybe," Flik said. "They'll have to go through North Sparrow Pass to get there."

"If they do get back to Kyaro," Sen piped in, "they'll be in a lot of trouble."

Flik's eyebrows jumped up his forehead. "Why's that?"

Sen beamed. "When I was in Kyaro, I heard the Highlanders saying that two traitors in the Unicorn Brigade helped the State Army during the massacre. That would put Riou and Jowy in a lot of danger if they went back there."

Pohl nearly fainted. "We've got to save them."

Flik shook his head. "Not much we can do tonight. The horses are still spent from today's exercises, but I'll send a rider off to North Sparrow Pass. I don't think they'll get through the checkpoint."

"Don't worry, Pohl." Viktor added, slapping him on the back. "We'll scoop them up tomorrow. After all, they don't have any horses, they don't have any food, and they don't have any connections around here. They're not going anywhere."

Pohl did not look convinced.

Somewhere, deep down in his psyche, Flik wasn't convinced either.

Early the next morning, Flik and Viktor led the scouts out in pursuit. It was a beautiful morning, clear and chill, and the trees were filled with little green leaves and the beginnings of blooms. Their first destination was the little village of Ryube, nestled in a fertile valley created by two ridges of the Aramayan range. In the outlying farms, people were already busy with the planting. The workers hardly looked up at the passing of the mercenaries.

The town itself was a collection of a couple hundred houses at the far end of the valley, abutting the forests that sprawled over the slopes. Despite the small size, Ryube was one of only two urban centers in the province of East Muse, and so was fairly prosperous in relation to the surrounding countryside. That said, it only had a low stone wall for defense, without so much as a gate to keep intruders out.

Inside, it was quieter than usual, almost as if the town was hung over. In the central square, there was the detritus of recent festivities, bits and pieces of colored streamers strewn on the ground. There was a wooden, two-story inn at the near end of the square, and Flik halted the patrol in front of it, dismounted, and walked in.

The desk at the front was empty, the common room to the side was empty, the whole building seemed to be asleep. Flik pounded on the service bell at the desk for a while, and eventually the proprietor, red eyed and stubble cheeked, staggered out from a back room and came to the desk.

"What in blazes could anyone want so early in the morning?" he shouted into Flik's face, but then his eyes focused and he saw clearly who it was that he was speaking to. "Pardons," he tried again, in a different tone of voice. "I had a bit too much celebrating for my wife's tastes and she kicked me downstairs to sleep last night. You know how it is, right?"

Flik didn't -even the idea of marital disputes made his heart ache for Odessa a little- but he nodded yes to get the conversation moving along. The mercenaries were well known and well respected in Ryube, as they were often in town buying the produce of the local area.

"So, what was the celebration about?" Flik asked, pleasantly.

This perked the innkeeper right up. "Ah, a group of performers from the Grasslands was recently in town and they had the grand finale of their act yesterday." He sighed. "That one fortuneteller was very pretty." he said wistfully, explaining in a sentence at least one reason why his wife wasn't happy. Flik again nodded, sociably. "Enough of that," the innkeeper suddenly blushed. "What brings you here this morning?"

"I'm looking for two teenage boys that might have come through here yesterday. They're escaped prisoners."

The innkeeper shook his head. "Well, they certainly chose the right time to escape. Everybody for miles around was in town yesterday, so I don't know if I can help you. What did they look like?"

"Average height on both. One's got brown hair and he's wearing a red tunic and black pants. The other's got very light hair, almost silver, and he's wearing a blue shirt and white pants. Does that help?"

The innkeeper thought about it a moment and then suddenly burst out laughing. He wheezed and wheezed and became very red in the face, to the point that Flik thought seriously about leaping over the counter to see if he couldn't save the man. Eventually, though, he managed to collect his breath. "Yeah, they were here yesterday," he gasped, still chuckling a little. "The one in red was part of the knife throwing act. He was spectacular, didn't move a muscle, didn't flinch a bit. Knives flashing through the air at him, and he didn't even blink. That one, he's got ice water for blood."

"Indeed," Flik commented. "Do you know what happened to them after that?"

"Yeah, they were talking with the Grasslanders, so maybe they left with them."

Flik felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. "Do you know where the Grasslanders were going?"

"I think one of them said Kyaro, but I can't be sure. I had, uh, other things on my mind at that moment."

"And when did they leave?"

"That must've been about late afternoon yesterday, as about I reckon. They packed up a wagon and drove off to the north."

Silently, Flik cursed himself. For most of yesterday they had been no more than an hour's hard ride from the fort, but by now, assuming they had traveled through the night, they could easily be at North Sparrow Pass.

"Not the news you wanted to hear?" guessed the innkeeper, reading Flik's face.

"Any news better than none," Flik answered, placing a bag of potch on the counter. "Thank you for your time."

"No problem," responded the innkeeper, happily pocketing the money. "You and your men are always welcome here."

Flik strode out the door and the men, who had taken the moment to rest under the central tree of the square, leapt back to their feet and mounted up.

"You don't look happy." Viktor commented, as they formed up and rode back towards the wall.

"They were here yesterday," Flik said darkly. "Probably most of the day yesterday. I can almost guarantee that some of our men were here as well, men who should've taken them into custody. We missed our best chance to get them."

"Well, can we run them down?"

"I don't know; they hooked up with some Grassland performers and went north with them. They could be all the way to North Sparrow by now."

Viktor laughed, startling Flik. "Don't worry then. At least we know where they went. As long as there's a trail, we can overtake them."

They rode north along the empty road, Flik pushing the pace as fast as he dared without exhausting the horses. Perhaps they could be overtaken in the North Sparrow Pass. Perhaps they had not even been permitted to enter the pass. Embarrassing as it was to lose their two prisoners, it was the knowledge that they faced certain death if they returned to Kyaro that really spurred Flik on.

At midmorning, the scouts sighted a merchant wagon and some mounted guards on the road coming towards them. Flik risked a halt to see if he could find any new information.

"Yah, I saw that Grasslander wagon you're talking about," said the merchant in response to Flik's query. The merchant was a wizened old man, missing more than a few of his teeth, with skin like parchment, and a flop of stringy white hair on his head. And his breath stank. "Didn't see no two little boys there, though. Just two pretty girls and a big monster of a man. Course, they could've been hiding in the wagon, if you say they're fugitives."

Flik nodded; that made a lot of sense. "You say you saw them in the pass?"

"Course I saw them in the pass. Where else would've I seen them? Told them there's no money to be had in Kyaro, and that there's a mist monster in the pass, but they just drove on. Stupid kids!"

"Tell me about Kyaro," Flik said, suddenly. "Are they preparing for war? Have you seen Luca Blight?"

"Course they're preparing for war. Whole lot of troops in Kyaro, and a whole bunch arrived just before I left. They were…yeah, White Wolves, that's who they were. Didn't see no Luca Blight…don't want to see no Luca Blight." The old man spat on the ground. "Highland soldiers should just stay in Highland; Jowston soldiers should just stay in Jowston. Why do you have to go ruining my trade?"

Flik surreptitiously glanced towards his men; Viktor and some of them were happily talking to the merchant's hired guards. Some of them might even be prevailed upon to join after they finished with their current job. Then he made a cursory investigation of the merchant's wares. It seemed to be mostly cloth of some sort.

"Here's a little money for your time," Flik said, cheerily, tossing the merchant some potch. "Do you know the mercenary fort back down the road?" The merchant, who had been busily checking the cash, nodded somberly. "You could always stop in there and try to sell your wares."

"Not a whole lot of money there, either," the merchant commented, a true, if painful, shot at Viktor's organization. "Still, some money is better than none. I hope you find what you're looking for." the merchant said, flicking the reins and getting his wagon moving again.

After that, Flik collected the men and continued the ride north. Somehow Riou and Jowy had managed to get into North Sparrow Pass. It shouldn't have been possible, but once again they'd been able to slip through the cracks. That thought was terribly irritating as Flik turned it over and over in his head, like an oyster creating a pearl. Thus, his mood was not very good by the time the scouts rode up to the checkpoint at the Jowston end of the North Sparrow Pass.

"Where is the commander of this sieve you call a checkpoint?" Flik yelled, nearly trampling the two unfortunate guards, who had been playing a game of dice.

"Duh…" began the more unfortunate of the two unfortunates.

"Don't stand there looking stupid," Flik suddenly felt the almost uncontrollable urge to beat the man with the flat of his blade, "just go and get him."

Luckily for the grunts, the commander chose that particular moment to come sauntering out of the guard hut. Unluckily for the commander, he was obviously drunk and continuing to imbibe from a huge, garish, red, clay jug that he clasped between his hands. He seemed to be unaware of Flik, Viktor, the scouts, or even his own responsibilities as he unfastened his pants and relieved himself vigorously on the ground.

Or he was unaware, until Flik rode up and shattered the jar with one sweep of his sword, spilling the contents all over the commander. The commander stood there dumbfounded, while Viktor wore a huge grin and the rest of the men suppressed laughter.

"Now pull your pants back on before I find something else for my sword to slice," Flik ordered, gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles were white.

The commander, who had just opened his mouth to protest, looked at the sword, looked down at his pants, looked back up at Flik, flushed, and hurriedly pulled his pants back up. There was now outright laughter behind Flik, including one of the two checkpoint guards. Guessing from the venomous look the commander shot that guard, said unfortunate had probably committed a career-ending mistake.

That was not Flik's concern. "Did a Grassland wagon and a group of performers come through here six or seven hours ago?" Flik asked the commander, when he finally appeared focused enough to answer questions.

The commander swallowed nervously, shifting his eyes around the clearing, obviously trying to avoid the question. He was, however, still far too drunk for guile. "Uh…yes, there was a Grassland wagon here at that time."

"And were there also two teenage boys with those Grassland performers?"

"Uh…"

"Don't bother trying to lie."

"Yes, they were there."

"Didn't you receive instructions not to let anyone through into Highland?"

"I-I-I did receive those instructions."

Flik sighed. "So why, then, did you ignore them and let those people, including two fugitives on the run, through your checkpoint and out of our custody?"

The commander looked around, but seeing no help forthcoming from any quarter, suddenly sank to his knees and started sobbing. "I-I'm sorry, sir!" He fumbled at his pants belt and produced a little bag. "They bribed me with money and, since our pay is so poor, I took the bribe!" He tried to hand the bag up to Flik.

Flik frowned; Viktor rode forward, took the bag, and jingled it softly. "There can't be more than fifty potch in that bag," Viktor said, chuckling. "No set of border guards in their right minds would accept such a pitiful bribe." He dismissively tossed the bag back at the ground in front of the commander. "I think he was bribed by something else." He smiled and winked knowingly.

Flik colored, realization dawning.

"Ah." The commander tried glancing back and forth between Viktor and Flik, trying to gauge the two of them. Then he tried groveling again. "I'm sorry, sir!" he begged obsequiously at the feet of Viktor's horse. "I'm a lonely man…who hasn't seen his wife in months…and she was just so beautiful…and willing…"

Flik's horse, reading his mood, suddenly reared, nearly spilling him out of the saddle and also nearly trampling the commander. Flik drew his sword, metal glinting in the sunlight. "You are derelict of duty!" he shouted, color riding high on his face. He pulled his sword high overhead, looming over the commander.

The commander screamed shrilly and ducked hard into the turf as Flik swung his sword downward.

"Easy there," Viktor chided, casually reaching with one hand and stopping Flik mid-swing. Flik's anger was still red hot and he tried valiantly to push through Viktor's restraint. Vainly, too, for Viktor held him back as easily as he might have restrained a child. After jerking in the saddle a couple of times, Flik conceded and relaxed.

The commander, when he realized that the killing blow had not landed, looked up cautiously, a grateful smile breaking out on his face, kind of like a rash. He crawled forward on his knees and started kissing the legs of Viktor's horse. "Oh thank you, sir. My life is yours, use it in any way you see fit."

Now that the anger had passed, Flik felt more like throwing up, preferably right on to the scum of a commander.

Viktor had other ideas. "Good, I like your attitude, soldier. I'm taking this patrol through the pass into Highland territory in pursuit. You are going to forget that we ever came through here and, when we return, you will look the other way at that time, too. In return, I won't take this matter up with your superiors next time I'm in Muse. Understand?"

"Viktor," Flik asked, "you can't be thinking of going into Highland, can you?"

"Why not?" Viktor answered. "I said that as long as there's a trail, we can overtake them. The trail's still there, Flik, and I'm going to catch them, one way or another."

The commander, his kisses gradually working there way up the horse's chest, nodded his exuberant acquiescence to the plan. Viktor's horse backed away.

Flik looked up at the clouds passing in the noontide sky. "Fine, let's do this." Then he glanced back to the commander. "We're going into the pass; I trust that you will remember this little agreement."

Flik waited only so long as it took the two guards to move away one part of the barricade and then he led the scouts through. Inside, the pass was rough going. It was mostly bare rock flanked by steep, though not vertical, slopes. Its width was irregular, sometimes as wide as a hundred feet, yet around a turn the walls would rush in to a tithe of that distance. At this time of the year, the pass was also very wet; thousands of tiny rivulets streaming down from the mountains filled every little interstice with a pool of standing water.

Up above, the slopes were wooded, and in the narrows, the trees served to block out much of the sun. It was much cooler and, though there seemed to be no sign of a mist monster, there was a misty haze in the pass.

"Sure like to have a thousand men and a good fort here," Viktor mumbled, at one point. "I could hold this place forever and a half with that."

"And while you stood here and twiddled your thumbs," Flik laughed, "Highland would march through one of the other gates and ignore you entirely." Viktor began to growl, but Flik waved him off, continuing in a more serious tone, "We're trying not to provoke a war here, so let's be careful."

"Still like to have a thousand men and a good fort here," Viktor concluded, after nodding to Flik's point.

The ride through the pass was uneventful, but slow, the treacherous footing forcing the riders to proceed at the slowest possible pace. Sometimes they even had to dismount and walk the horses through difficult stretches. The pass began to rise steadily towards the Kyaro end and dry out, too. Finally, after climbing a sharp and twisting rise, they caught their first view of the Kyaro Valley.

It was vast, though not so big as the province of East Muse, surrounded by low mountains on all sides, and heavily forested in parts. The mountains to the north were out of sight on this day, though there was a slight haze in the distance as the sun tracked down towards the western ridges. The town of Kyaro itself was closer to the southern ridges, where Viktor and Flik now stood. It was clearly larger than either Ryube or Toto, but, like them, it was not terribly urban. It was merely the meeting point in a sea of fertile farmland.

Staring down the path as it sloped into the valley, Flik noted the obvious lack of soldiers at the Highland side.

Viktor noted it, too. "With a thousand men, I could march down there and control the whole province." He looked eager to try it.

"Yeah, until some portion of the Highland army came by and beat the stuffing out of you. Then what would you do?"

"Hey, stop messing with my daydreams, Flik." Viktor said, raising his voice just a bit.

Flik shrugged. "So, how do we want to do this? I don't see lots of soldiers, but I don't think we want to take the entire patrol down into town."

"Nah, just you and I will be fine." Viktor smiled. "We can ride into town pretending to be just what we are, mercenaries, and get all the information we need. If they're there, we grab them and run for the border. If not, then at least we try to find out where they went."

"Sounds good." Flik turned to give orders to the men, but Viktor reached out to stop him.

"Not yet; we've got to come up with some different names."

"What?"

"We can't just march in as Viktor and Flik. Someone might recognize those names. I'll go as Schtolteheim Reinbach the third."

"Viktor." Flik said, in a long-suffering tone of voice. "You always go as Schtolteheim Reinbach the third."

"So?" Viktor asked, in a hurt tone. "He's the hero of the Kooluk-Island Nations War."

Flik cringed. "Viktor," he chided, "in your whole life, how many books have you read?"

"Uh." Viktor spread his fingers, visibly counting on them. "One."

"Right. And that one was that six page rag written by Mickey, which has been proven to be spurious." Viktor looked away. "Everyone knows that the hero of the Kooluk-Island Nations War was King Lino En Kuldes, who had the Great Ship built and then established the Island Nations after the war ended."

"Never mind," Viktor said, huffing out a breath. "You'll go as…Bluto."

"Bluto?" Flik gaped. "Can't you come up with something better than that?"

"If you want a better name," Viktor retorted, sulkily, "you'll have to come up with it yourself."

With that, he spurred his horse down the path.