Hell's Gate

"Your point?" Jasak tried hard to keep the acid out of his voice.

"In my considered opinion, Sir, pursuing at this time would be the height of folly. The only prudent response is to return immediately to our base camp in the swamp and send for reinforcements from the coast before attempting to run these people down."

Jasak stared at the older man, disbelief warring with rage as Garlath looked defiantly back. An ugly, triumphant glow lit the backs of his eyes, and Jasak felt his jaw muscles aching as he clenched his teeth in comprehension.

Garlath's spineless cowardice was equaled only by his incompetence as an officer and his hatred for any officer promoted past him. But he was clever in his own way. So damned clever it turned Jasak's stomach. Clever enough to wrap his desire to flee from anything that looked remotely like danger in the mantle of considered, prudent tactics.

Volcanic rage sizzled through Jasak Olderhan, but before it could boil over Gadrial Kelbryan shocked him by rounding on Garlath like a hissing basilisk. Her almond eyes flashed with lethal lightning as she advanced on Garlath, who actually backed away from her slender fury with an expression of almost comical astonishment.

"Don't you dare use my research as an excuse to cut and run!" she snarled.

"Magister Kelbryan, you mistake my meaning!" Garlath replied, speaking so quickly the words came out gabbled. "I didn't say we should run away. Not at all! That would be as foolish as rushing forward. All I'm recommending is a tactical retreat, just a temporary maneuver to concentrate our forces. If we stay scattered, we won't be able to withstand a united attack by an enemy of unknown strength using weapons we can't even understand. We can't afford to risk walking into some sort of ambush. We have to be sure we survive to carry word of this staggering discovery to our superiors. And then there's your own value as one of our finest magisters. If anything were to happen to you, or if you, gods forbid, fell into enemy hands, then?"

"Oh, stuff it someplace interesting, Garlath!" Gadrial snapped.

"Magister," Garlath said almost fawningly, "I only meant?"

"I know exactly what you meant! I've been trapped in your revolting company for weeks, Shevan Garlath. You are the most pathetic excuse for an officer I've ever seen. One of your own men has been murdered?murdered, damn you!?and the only thing you want to do about it is run away and hide someplace safe! And you have the unmitigated gall to use me as an excuse for your cowardice?!"

Gadrial realized she was literally shaking with fury, and a corner of her mind wondered how much of that stemmed from her own fear and her own need to find something to lash out at. Not that it made her contempt for Garlath any less merited, even if it did.

"We have to find out what's going on out here," she continued in a marginally calmer, icy voice. "We have to find out now, before things get any further out of hand. If we can't do that?and do it before it all goes totally out of control?then I'm not going to be the only one at risk. And I warn you, Fifty Garlath. If anything happens to Magister Halathyn because of your fuck-ups, I will come after you for blood debt. And I'll keep coming, through as many godsdamned universes as it takes to track you down and feed your miserable excuse for a soul to the crows!"

Naked shock flared behind Garlath's eyes, and Jasak stepped in quickly.

"Magister Kelbryan, I fully appreciate your concern for Magister Halathyn's safety. Believe me, I want to protect him as much as you do. As for getting a message back to our superiors," he swung his gaze to Garlath, who flushed dark red under its withering contempt, "that's why we carry hummers. Chief Sword, see to it. Send a priority message to Javelin Krankark at the forward base, and another to Commander of Five Hundred Klian, at the coast. Given the urgency of the situation, I want Fifty Ulthar and his platoon recalled immediately. And I'm sure Five Hundred Klian will also want to get a message off to Five Hundred Grantyl at the Chalar base. Record and release immediately with my chop on the header."

"Yes, Sir!" Threbuch saluted crisply and darted one disgusted glance at Garlath before heading for Javelin Iggar Shulthan, Charlie Company's senior hummer specialist. Jasak watched him go, then turned back to the infuriated woman still glaring at Garlath.

"Magister Kelbryan," he said quietly and formally, breaking her concentration and drawing her carefully away from the object of her rage, "I would consider it a great personal favor if you would add your own message. Your Gifts are far superior to mine, and I want Five Hundred Klian to have as much information as possible."

"Of course," she said stiffly. "I would be delighted to help in any way I can."

She flicked one final, fiery glance at Garlath, then strode vigorously across the camp to join the chief sword and their hummer handler. Jasak watched her for a moment, then took a firm grip on his own temper and returned his attention to Fifty Garlath.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't follow Gadrial's explosive example and call the man a sniveling coward. She was dead-on accurate, but that didn't matter. Garlath had given too many plausible, outwardly militarily sound reasons to retreat. He knew how to play the game, all right. Jasak had to give him that. That skill?playing the nasty little game of power politics which was the worst curse of the patronage system within the Arcanan military?was the one thing Shevan Garlath was actually good at.

A deep and abiding hatred crystallized in Jasak's blood, turning him cold as ice, and Garlath backed up another involuntary step before his expression.

"Your tactical concerns are noted, Fifty Garlath." Jasak's eye was granite-hard as he bit his words out of solid ice and spat them at the older man like hailstones. "Your assessment of the situation does not tally with mine, however. It's imperative that we stop these people before they reach the portal. I don't want a damned battle, Garlath. I want answers. And I want to control the situation. Until we get those answers, until we get to the bottom of what happened out here, we don't know anything. But if these people are as confused as we are, and if they get back to their superiors and tell them we started it, it's going to change from a disaster to a godsdamned catastrophe.

"We won't get any answers if they reach the portal?and whatever base may lie beyond?before we've caught up. And we won't be able to put the brakes on this, either. Shartahk seize it, we don't even have any idea how to communicate with them if we do catch up with them! So the only option I see is to find them, stop them, and try to make some sort of controlled contact with them, just like the first contact protocols require. And, failing that, we at least need to take them into custody and return them to base where someone else, with the kind of diplomatic experience none of us has, can try to figure out how to talk to them and, gods willing, straighten this fucking mess back out. Do you read me on this, Fifty Garlath?"

Garlath's jaw worked as he glared back at Jasak. The fusion of fear, resentment, and hatred bubbling away inside the man must be like basilisk venom, Jasak thought. He doubted that explaining his own analysis had done a bit of good, but he'd had to at least try to get through to this excuse for an Andaran officer.

"Do you read me?" he repeated very softly, and Garlath jerked his head in a spastic nod.

"Good," Jasak said, still softly. "Because we're facing a fast, hard march, and I expect you to pull your weight. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir." Garlath's tone was so brittle Jasak wondered why his tongue hadn't shattered.

"Then get the men ready to march within the next three minutes. May I assume you're capable of carrying out that order, Fifty?"