42. Scent and Secrets #3
The sentries were right where she’d left them.
Two of them remained in their trucks while the other five leaned against the outside of the armored vehicles.
Though their clothing was padded, they still stamped their feet occasionally on the ground as if to beat off the chilly breeze.
Anara drifted toward them, landing on the hood of one of the trucks.
She cawed at the sentry that turned to look at her and clicked her talons against the metal top.
The sentry flung his hand in her direction. “Shoo. Shoo.”
Anara cocked her head, pouring every ounce of disdain into her one beaded eye. The sentry edged away from her, but she heard him mumble, “Stupid bird.”
Any retaliation on his part was intercepted by the sound of Masai’s motorcycle.
The sound alerted the sentries before the bike itself came into sight.
They pulled their weapons from holsters, and although they kept them pointed at the ground, their posture was stiff and alert.
Their focus was on the road before them, even as Masai’s bike roared into existence before them, approaching quickly without the appearance of slowing down. The men raised their weapons.
Masai skidded to a stop in front of them, removing his helmet in one motion as he slid off his bike. His emerald earrings reflected the sun’s light. “Lower your weapons, men.”
“Lord Masai?” The oldest of the sentries dropped his weapon immediately, his voice filled with confusion. “What are you doing out here? The Regent said you were on a special assignment.”
“I was, Aadan.” Masai reached out his hand, clasping Aadan’s arm with his own. “Though you should know better than to ask questions. Move the blockade and let me pass.”
Aadan’s face reddened. “I’m sorry, sir, but the Regent ordered that no one should be allowed to pass. She didn’t give us any exceptions.”
Anara cawed a warning. If these men wouldn’t move, she would move them herself. The same sentry from before shot her a wary glance. Over the years, Anara had often been mistaken as an omen of the gods. She didn’t mind the comparison. Masai spared her a brief glance.
“Aadan, you’ve served my mother well, but there is someone else on his way. If you make him wait, I can’t protect you.”
The sentries looked to Aadan who’s hands fiddled on the grip of his gun. “Who is it?”
“Remember the Empress’ War Dog?” Masai glanced at Anara. “You met him once.”
Anara’s feathers puffed up as she shuffled her talons. She understood. If Aadan had met Calder before, he would know that something was wrong the moment he saw Darien’s dark hair.
Aadan’s dark face tightened. “What is he doing here?”
“His prey wandered into our commonwealth. He plans to use them as leverage against the Vienám. I’m to escort him out.
That’s all I can say, and I probably shouldn’t have said that much.
If you remember, the Kafteinn is not a patient man.
I have no authority over him if he decides you’re in his way. Now move these trucks.”
As if to emphasize his words, Helga’s clanking engine drew the sentries’ attention back to the road to see the lumbering truck making its way toward them. Aadan hesitated for only a second, then licked his lips. “Move the trucks.”
Anara flapped her wings as the truck under her moved to the side, clearing just enough space for Helga to slip through the gap.
Masai straddled his bike. Even over the roar, Anara heard him say, “The Kafteinn is a private man. Don’t tell anyone he’s been here, or he’ll know it was you who told. Stay safe, Aadan.”
“You too, Lord Masai.” Aadan’s eyes narrowed on Helga’s approach. “I don’t trust him. Watch your back.”
Masai grimaced. “And my front.”
Aadan backed away, waving Helga forward.
In the driver’s seat, Darien stared straight ahead, the Empress’ emblem a clear marker on his shoulder and chest. He pulled Helga through the gap, though he slowed as Aadan moved toward the driver’s side.
The distrust on his face turned to confusion which transformed into alarm as Darien pulled beside him.
“He’s not—” Aadan began.
Masai revved the engine of his bike, cutting off Aadan’s words as Darien leaned through the window.
Anara couldn’t catch his quick words under the combined noise of Helga’s engine and Masai’s motorcycle.
The other sentries started toward their leader, then hesitated.
Apparently the War Dog’s reputation was enough to keep them at bay.
They eyed the prisoners in the truck bed, shifting their weapons in their hands.
Anara’s body quivered as her galdr threatened to escape, as it urged her to transform into a wolf, to pounce on her prey before they could suspect the attack.
Then Aadan nodded, and Darien leaned back into the front seat. With a dazed expression on his face, Aadan waved them forward, and Helga passed through the gap, continuing down the road. Masai gave a two-finger salute from the top of his helmet as he sped his bike through the gap and down the road.
Anara remained, silent as the shadow she’d been forced to become over the years.
The other sentries crowded around Aadan.
His eyes refocused; his face cleared. He pushed past the other sentries and darted to the gap between the trucks, staring down the road after Helga.
Darien’s persuasion had not lasted long enough.
Anara let her galdr build, readying herself for the attack.
She could not let Aadan warn the others.
“Is something wrong, sir?” one of the sentries asked as Helga turned from sight.
It was Aadan’s hesitation that stayed Anara’s transformation.
“No,” he said slowly, then with more confidence, “back to your places.”
The sentries dashed into action, obediently pulling the trucks back to where they belonged, but Aadan stared down the road, whispering to himself, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Masai.”
Anara waited, but when Aadan went back to his post without another word, she allowed herself to release the pent-up energy stored within her limbs. She stretched her wings, taking to the air. Her thoughts bent toward Masai and what he’d done to earn such loyalty.