The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) (17 page)

*              *              *              *

Breakfast hosted a good deal of excited chatter, the same lines of conversation continuing on in hushes and looks throughout the rest of the meal once the noble family had joined them.

The highlight before breakfast was the fixing of all of their company’s Allen rifles with the magnum chokes Corporal Wesshire had mentioned
, marking perhaps the official beginning of the hunting portion of their expedition. Much of the discourse following Lord Wester’s arrival continued to be of guns, primarily by the captain and a bit of the margrave. Ian half-followed the conversation and the other one beside him as Kieran went on about similar topics in hushed whispers to Rory and Brodie. Whatever was left of Ian’s attention he devoted to finishing his breakfast, and tactfully avoiding how much he wanted to look at the margrave’s daughter.

He felt good, not tired at all. The food, whatever it was, tasted great, as he had been
getting terribly hungry. It felt like he had an advantage over them all, that he knew more of what had happened in the last few hours than all of them—Rory included, if his bleary countenance was any guide. And whenever his mind strayed to what he and Elizabeth Wester had talked about, nearly every odd moment it seemed, he couldn’t help but feel like he was sitting on a winning hand that no one else could match.

“Not likely,” Rory whisper
ed none too cheerily, no doubt in response to something Kieran had said.

“I will stay atop the
brisa,” Lord Wester was saying, “until we sight a buffalo line. At which point, we’ll close on foot, keeping the caravan back while the hunters pursue.”

“Capital,” Cap
tain Marsden said. “We’ll keep one of our flanks back to watch over the caravan while the other assists you and the beaters.”

Ian looked over at Brodie beside him
, and they both grinned, even while knowing that one of them would be in the flank stuck behind with the caravan.

“Will your command do the honors, sir?” Lieutenant Taylor asked.

“Yes, I believe we will take the first,” the captain quickly affirmed, to the silent celebration underneath Ian’s carefully sculpted demeanor of expressive calm.

But then the captain
happened to glance at him, the lack of passion in Ian’s expression seemingly reminding the captain that they were on the same flank. And while an acute flight of regret passed over the captain’s face, he didn’t voice any rescinding thoughts to the plan.

*              *              *              *

Orinoco seemed to have found compassion for their party, as their previous two days of travel into the wilds had been fairly tame, but her patience was evidently slight as the morning quickly took them to task.

Their regulators provided ample protection from sunlight under normal circumstances in addition to personal climate control. However, within a couple of hours of breaking camp, Ian broke down and fetched one of the
field hats that the brisa carried. They were white, shallow hats with a slightly long oval shaped brim, which allotted plenty of shade and could be easily and firmly adjusted, to suit the angle of the sun and other factors. Ian generally wasn’t all that fond of hats because of how they interfered with visibility, and these in particular were so long that they interfered with his regulator’s line of field, even after adjusting it to the best efficiency. It had to be done though, and he saw everyone else but Kieran and Lieutenant Taylor take them within a short amount of time. Ian found some small humiliation in that, but he mostly doused it knowing that he was merely being reasonable. Lieutenant Taylor genuinely seemed not to mind the heat all that much, but Kieran’s motives were decidedly social. Consequently, he was frequently wiping at his brow underneath his mop of light hair with his sleeves, and his temper was audible even from Ian’s position. The Chax also didn’t take any additional protection from the sun or the heat, but they seemed well in their element.

The Chax
moved so lightly through the grasses, barely heard at all unless Ian was listening for it. And though they mostly either rode or stayed near the brisa, on occasion they would move out past the perimeter their company kept around the caravan. At one point, one of them, not Will, as this Chax seemed bigger and had a pattern of splotches across his face and shoulders, ran by behind Ian.

Up until that point
, Ian had been moving and watching Rory, who was ahead of them, so he almost didn’t detect the native at all until he was only a handful of feet away. Jerking his head around, Ian half-reached for his rifle before he realized who it was and felt stupid. Frowning at the Chax, who paid him no heed as he passed, he almost called after the Chax about warning him before doing something like that.

Ian had the good fortune of Rory seeing all this, and as Ian caught up with Rory, th
e other private looked a little paternal.

“I hope you don’t get that jumpy when there’s real action,” Rory said.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Ian said, looking back at the Chax.

The guide had run a couple hundred feet to their
left to look over a sharp drop-off from the slight elevation they were on. After disappearing for a moment down out of sight, he popped back up and ran back toward the brisa.

“
Anglas is coming this way,” Rory murmured.

Ian turned.
“See anything that way, yet?” he asked Kieran as he came within earshot.

“Not yet,” Kieran answered, jogging a bit to catch up with them.

“Move up to left high so we can keep formation,” Ian said to Rory.

“
You’re not in charge,” Rory protested.

Ian wanted to press that
, despite not really having anything official to assert that he did. He glanced over to their point, but the captain was currently out of sight.

“
Anglas wants to talk to me, anyway,” Ian said.

“How do you know?” Rory asked.

Ian pointed at Rory, to which Kieran shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“All right,” Rory said, obligingly increasing his pace, “I’ll take
left high.”

“Anything over here?”
Kieran asked as he drew up almost even with Ian.

“Not yet,” Ian said. “Are you
going to hold the rearguard?”

“I am holding it,” Kieran said, sounding annoyed.

Ian looked at the open plains behind them. “Oh.”

“Good job on getting
to hunt first,” Kieran said, his tone not exactly matching that sentiment.

Ian shrugged. “Your flank will
have next go at it. I’m sure whatever all of us sees will even out by the end.”

“It’s about skill, not about what we see,” Kieran countered, sounding eager to counter.

“Good,” Ian said.

“Listen,” Kieran said, “everyone else but you has agreed to stay away from the margrave’s daughter.”

“Everyone?” Ian asked.

“Ye
s, all the privates,” Kieran said.

“Why do you trust the corporals? Or even the officers for that matter? They’re all just as eligible as me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kieran said. “I’m not going to ask again. Either agree that you won’t or say so now, so we can settle it.”

Ian stopped and looked at him,
running calculations and figures in his head and knowing that he could handle Kieran in a fair fight, under any circumstances. But no, that was foolish, nothing good would come of making something out of nothing.

“Fine, it’s settled now,” Ian said,
going to tell him that he had already shared a conversation with Elizabeth, going to show Kieran, going to—No. “I won’t agree to any kind of daft agreement not to talk to someone, and that’s all.” Kieran’s face pinched, but Ian didn’t stop. “And if you decide that will seriously hurt your chances with seeing her and want to make something out of it, I can’t stop you. As long as you’re that scared for your chances.”

“Yes,
I’m really scared about that,” Kieran said sarcastically.

“Well,” Ian said, taking off his hat and
offering it toward Kieran. “Better take this then. Sun’s dreadful today.”

Kieran shook his head and let that mark his departure.

“The Allen rifle was first introduced to select Bevish units in 4801 UI to great acclaim in place of the traditional ballet musket designs that had previously been available. The Allen rifle sacrificed power and rate of fire in exchange for greatly heightened range and accuracy that were put to great effect, beginning in the Haspian Wars.”

—
Yeoman encyclopedia entry

They encountered the first of the buffalo lines not long after midday. It was a wide lane of tracks, at least a hundred feet of trampled earth and grass all crushed together. Several of the Chax immediately left the brisa to examine them, Lord Wester slinging his rifle over his shoulder and following. All this wasn’t entirely necessary, however, as even Ian, at his distance, could tell that it was headed west.

One of the
Chax in particular was bent low to the ground, feeling around with his hands as his head scanned up along the path. Ian couldn’t tell if his eyes were moving.

“This morning,”
one of the standing Chax said.

The Chax on the ground continued in a rougher Bevish dialect.
“Two hour. Not ean two hour. Dass way.”

“Yes,” Lord Wester said, gazing down the track.

By this time, the brisa had reached the track, and the caravan stopped a little ways down the line from them.

I
an recognized Will a moment before he spoke quietly at Lord Wester’s side.

“They are mayb
e only four or five miles away,” Will said. “A hunting party could overtake them in two hours.”

“Much less,” Captain Marsden said as he also reached them, “I should thi
nk, if it’s up to our company. We can cover that kind of ground far more quickly than most.”

“Yes,” Lord Wester said, glancing
toward the brisa, “we’ll not be tied up with the brisa. Chero,” he addressed Will, “bring yourself and one of your guides with us, the rest will continue on as before. Have them make camp at evening and wait for us.”

“Yes,
My Lord,” Will bowed quickly, bring out a data device, “but shall I have them veer off a little our way to compensate for the distance? It will make it easier to retrieve any trophies My Lord acquires. The deviation can easily be made up.”

“Very well,” Lord Wester said. And with that, he
briskly started off down the line.

As soon as
Will saw this, he started shouting in Chax at the nearby guides, and then those who were with the brisa as he sprinted back toward the caravan for something.

The
Chax at hand also started off for the brisa, the one who had been down to the ground muttering something that rang in the universal tone of cursing. All the other guides began throwing things off the brisa to the ground. The rangers who were with the brisa looked blankly at all this, but Corporal Wesshire came around from the other side and started issuing orders to assist the Chax.

“
Right then,” the captain said, “Corporal Hanley, right point. You two, behind us.”

Corporal
Hanley drew his rifle off his pack as he ran to get in front of the margrave. Rory looked at Ian, but Ian was watching the Chax and trying to estimate their progress.

“Go,” Ian told Rory, “I’m coming.”

Ian felt more than saw Rory leave. By this time, Will and another Chax were hurrying back after them, now being heavily burdened with supplies that Ian was amazed they were managing.

Ian
hurried back and quickly grabbed a pack from Will and a strange pole that the other Chax was having difficulty juggling with everything else.

“Here,” Ian said, “I’ve got it.
Let’s go.”

Will
smiled, and the other Chax bowed the best he could.

It wasn’t altogether difficult to catch or keep up with the margrave,
who kept a steady pace. This was a source of frustration for the captain, and Ian had to admit for him as well, but he supposed it was undignified for nobility to outright run. And though he liked to think that he wouldn’t have had any qualms if Ian had been of noble blood, it was well worth it to see the ongoing battle on the captain’s demeanor as he was constantly pushing them up ahead, only to have to stop for Lord Wester. The captain’s frustration amounted to no actual challenging fraction of his reverence for the margrave, but it was still palpable.

“Is that them?” Ian asked
after some long time of this as he jogged along with his yeoman, magnifying the distance.

“Yes,” Will
said, “it’s them. And a strong line, too. Look, you can tell by how contained it is.”

“What about all
these trails that lead off the main line?” Ian asked, gesturing toward one of the haphazard, smaller lines that periodically stemmed off to their left.

“Those are young
males pursuing females,” Will answered. “Yes. It is a strong herd, I’m glad it won’t disappoint the lord. But excuse me. I must be near him now for instructions.” Will increased his pace and called back over his shoulder. “We must get off the line soon, or else the herd will spot us.”

Ian looked
at Rory who was some ways off, but Ian’s second had evidently heard Will and began to move off to the right of the line. Ian did the same and slowed his pace a little to keep even with the front. Scanning behind them and their left flank, Ian made use of the small break and took down a mouthful of water from his canteen. It wasn’t having run all this way, it was the heat. It crashed down in waves upon the top of his hat and everywhere that was exposed to the sun, radiating up from everywhere else.

But that was why it was so exhilarating—sort of.
Ian knew that right now he was actually doing this, doing something that not many people could or would ever. Ian increased his pace slightly with that thought.

The dark line up ahead
grew steadily more distinct and divisive. Ian was slowly able to pick out larger clusters with his naked eye, and then smaller groups. By the time he could comfortably watch individuals, the captain slowed their pace considerably and gave the order to keep low.

Ian felt glad that Lord Wester had gone off to the same side of the track
Ian had, which he hoped would increase his chances of getting to shoot for himself. And while, in many circumstances, the Allen rifle he carried was well and away superior to what the rest of the army was given, it also had a considerably slower reloading time. Being able to see the buffalo better now, Ian began to think that might be a considerable factor in this sort of hunt.

“Extraordinary brutes,” Captain Marsden whispered when he had
called for a halt, and Ian had caught up with his superiors and Will. “Better have the bays wide open for these beggars.”

The margrave didn’t say anything as he unloaded and reloaded his rifle.

“Extremely dangerous,” Will cautioned, his eyes hard on the herd, “easily up to one and a half tons, long buffalo claim more lives every year than any other animal. They are strongest in numbers and will defend each other.”

“They’re prone to locking their horns and charging in lines,” Lord Wester said absently as he looked up
toward the sun, “watch for that.”

“Yes,” Will
agreed, “and any animals, especially any bulls that are wounded, must be brought down immediately. Any buffalo that are shot will go after the hunter and will not stop until it is killed.”

“Game little blinkers,” Captain Marsden said, wiping at his moustache.

“I want at least one good bull trophy,” Lord Wester said, “two if it can be had.”

“The bulls,” Will
said, rising a little from the grass as the herd slowly plodded on, “are all around the core of the herd, which contains the females and young. The only difficulty is that the bulls move around much more, and are intermixed with younger males and the less healthy animals.”

“Show me then to the best bull on this side,” Lord Wester said.

“Yes,” Will said, “we can circle around to the left to spot one that is suitable. We must only be careful not to alert the herd too soon and not to get cut off from each other.”

“The others won’t be able to cross the line,” Ian said, glancing over to where he could just make out the gap in the grass where Corporal
Hanley and Rory had stopped. So much for keeping with his second.

“
Stow that talk, private,” Captain Marsden snapped.

Ian did his bitter best to swallow that down
, but fortunately no one was paying him any heed anyway.

“We will trail behind you then,” Captain Marsden told Lord Wester, who nodded, “and cover your position after you have shot. May we fire after your privilege?”

“Yes,” the margrave said, peering just above the grass. “Let us begin then.”

Will
softly clicked air through his teeth as he nodded, a thoroughly Chax trait that Ian had noticed him do before, an oddity among the Chax’s otherwise Ellosian demeanor.

A moment later
, Lord Wester started forward and to the left through the grass, going slow at first as Will kept beside him, but gaining speed until their movements were difficult to see from Ian’s vantage.

“You’d best be feeling more capable than your custom, private,” Captain Marsden said as he took a
quick swallow from his canteen and dropped and sealed his pack on the ground behind him.

Doing the same to his own pack, Ian said,
“I think I am, sir,” fairly honestly as he rocked forward a bit on his toes, feeling the withered grass on the ground softly biting into his hands and his heart softly exploding.

The captain spared him one brief look. “Your mouth is certainly always up to task.” He glared over at the other side of the buffal
o line, visibly wishing that he had someone else here. “Just keep to their right and shoot at anything that gets near the margrave. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,”
Ian said, his eyes on the herd’s ever-changing composition as he pulled his rifle off his pack. He quickly wondered what sort of difference the magnum choke would make on his Allen rifle.

The captain didn’t say anything else but immediately sprung off to
Ian’s far left, quickly making his way to shadow the margrave’s left flank. That was an appropriate enough plan, and while Ian didn’t necessarily like being handed the tamer position of the two—he being backed up to some extent by Corporal Hanley and Rory—especially once the surprise was exchanged and they were free to move at will. But all things considered, it was an incredible place to be given.

Ian
started off slow and straight, keeping as low as possible and concentrating on maintaining a good idea of Lord Wester and Will’s position. It was sort of a glaring oversight that was sighted now, that none the rangers had any non-visual means to track the margrave and Will. Ian would have to bring that up to—well, to someone. It would be doomed to rejection, or more likely the non-transference of due credit when implemented, if he voiced it to Captain Marsden.

But that was a good deal of the reason why this was all so perfect,
Ian thought. He increased speed upon catching movement in the grass farther ahead than he would’ve guessed. He literally probably had nowhere lower to sink in the captain’s opinion, except maybe a stockade. He had everything to gain now.

Moving much faster now to catch up, he promised himself that nothing more than sunburn would touch the margrave. Praying rather ardently that he’d be given the provid
ence to follow through on that—

Ian
instinctively hit the dirt when the nearest buffalo produced a sudden motion and spurt of whiny calls. Keeping very still, his eyes on the flurry of insects on the ground just underneath his face, Ian hoped that they hadn’t spotted him. He flustered at the thought that something could be happening near the margrave right now.

Trying to reason that he could still use his ears and would surely hear if anything star
ted after the margrave or Will, Ian waited a handful of heartbeats. A follow-up to the alarmed calls came from a few of the buffalo, but they seemed to be aimed more off to his right.

Rolling a bit to the side, he checked his yeoman
’s detection of the others, which was hard to see in the angle of the light. But he saw that Captain Marsden was still moving far off to his left and that Corporal Hanley and Rory had stopped just a little ahead of him.

Risking it,
Ian pulled his head up just high enough to discern bare generalities that the top of the grass between him and the herd allowed. This was good enough to confirm that there wasn’t anything immediately aware of him, and upon a little further propping, he deduced that some animals at the rear edge had caught a notion of Ellis and Rory. He couldn’t really see them in the location that his yeoman was indicating, so that hopefully meant they had bunkered down enough following whatever notice the buffalo might have gotten of them.

Taking another few seconds to confirm all this, he
located the back of the margrave’s tan shirt. And Ian jumped after them in that direction.