Otherworld Squad

The road had been mercifully quiet as the squad moved through the early afternoon sunshine. The rocky outcroppings continued to provide occasional shady reprieves from the sun’s ire as they weaved around their steep contours. Alter couldn’t help but notice that despite all his gear he wasn’t sweating as much as he should be. An hour earlier he would’ve remarked on this apparent phenomena to the others, but with their new companions alongside him he thought better of adding any further mysteries. As for Oliver and the lady, whom he now knew to be called Lucille, there had been some cautious attempts at conversation over the first twenty minutes of the journey. However, Alter’s insistence on dodging any particular questions had eventually extinguished Oliver’s attempts to gain further information about them. Lucille had been notably impatient but seemed to relax a little as time passed, her frequent questioning of their speed reduced to furtive looks.

As for the rest of the squad they had been surprisingly professional given the situation. Well drilled habits had kicked in not long after they had set out, eyes scoured all directions frequently as even Alter found himself scanning the skyline for aerial contacts every few minutes. He sincerely doubted that they’d have to deal with hostile fliers but you never knew, dragon equivalents wouldn’t entirely surprise him, stupid as that made him feel. Both columns had managed to maintain their five metre spacing, again it felt a little irrelevant, he doubted IEDs existed here but nevertheless it was good to see. The only thing Alter truly worried about was an ambush, there were plenty of places to hide among the ridges and peaks of the outcrops as they had earlier proven. Alter ground his teeth quietly as he walked, the fact that Oliver had used some sort of magical power on him and then acted suspicious of how shocked Alter had been was disconcerting. If magic was common and expected in this place then lord knows what nasty surprises awaited them around the corner. In pure technological terms his boys were nigh on unstoppable, but against the prospect of arcane fuckery Alter felt decidedly vulnerable. There’s a reason the Jedi are bloody scary when you think about it.

“Smoke ahead.” Reported Riptide from the head of the group.

Alter dragged himself out of his internal monologue and looked around. They had entered an S-like bend in the road between a pair of gently sloping outcroppings, finding themselves roughly in the middle of the formation. Ahead and off to their left, just poking out above the nearest ridgeline, a thin plume of black smoke reached skyward like a solitary middle-finger to the world.

“Are we close to where your carriage was attacked?” Alter asked as he looked up at the mounted couple.

“I was in a blind panic when we came through here but I think so.” Oliver responded as he observed his surroundings.

“Alright, let's get up on this high ground. Three, stay here with Sir Oliver and Lady Lucille.”

“I’m coming too.” Oliver snapped as he made to leave.

Alter fought the urge to groan, he couldn’t go against the young man’s wishes but if there was about to be an engagement then he wanted him as far away as possible. Although now that he thought about it, having someone who could identify anything or anyone from a distance was an acceptable tradeoff. If they did run into contact, well, a little shock and awe couldn’t hurt in cementing their capabilities in Oliver’s brain. Not waiting for an answer, the teen levered himself off the horse and followed Alter off the road. The pair breathed deeply as they struggled against the loose gravel and scree of the hill, arriving just behind the other men who settled on the ridge in a loose line. Together they poked their heads over the top and surveyed the scene before them.

The road ran almost straight away from the twin hills into a wide, flat area of finer grained soil and sparse vegetation. From their elevated position Alter could make out faint bands of coloured ground that meshed together in a manner resembling a dried river delta. Sure enough, the smoke was emitting from a wooden carriage still burning a couple of hundred metres down the road. It was a classic carriage design, a tall wooden box with elaborate suspension and four large spoked wheels. Three of the wheels had succumbed to the flames but one still stood defiantly on its corner. Dark red fire flickered within the windows of the carriage proper and ran along the driver’s bench. He saw neither horse nor corpse, but what he did see was a small number of figures moving around the site and he quickly brought his rangefinders out again. It didn’t take long to categorise them.

“More bandits hanging around, I count three.” He murmured into his radio to keep Boozehound in the loop.

“How can you be sure?” Asked Oliver who had crouched down next to him.

“They’re dressed in the same get-up as your pursuers. If your escorts had survived, I doubt they’d be hanging about like this. I range them at two-twenty, let's keep this nice and clean. Spread out a bit.”

Alter continued to observe as his unit began shifting wider apart along the ridge. One bandit stood a handful of paces from the carriage and seemed content to watch the flames. The second was sitting at the side of the road looking towards the hills but had not reacted to any of their movements. The third was rummaging through a cluster of waist-high shrubs and seemed completely engrossed in his tasks. He’d put all three in their mid to late twenties, all looked badly malnourished. Alter tried not to take in any details about their faces as best he could.

“Alright. Two and Four takes the one by the road. Five and six, the carriage watcher is yours. Seven and Eight you’re on the amateur botanist. Weapons live, report when ready.”

One by one his squad confirmed their readiness and Alter turned to his confused companion.

“You may want to cover your ears, sir. This is going to be loud.” Alter told him flatly, he considered sighting a target himself but decided that it might be a bit too much for him.

Oliver looked at him like a confused dog but followed the instruction. Satisfied that he was suitably prepared, Alter reached for the radio.

“Shoot.”

The bark and crack of weapons fire echoed around the hill as the unit engaged, Alter counted no more than three rounds per person as each target slumped downward and fell still. Oliver’s eyes screwed shut at the ferocity of the noise but he managed to open them again once the sound had subsided.

“What was that?” He shouted, unaware of the volume he had risen to.

“The same as what you heard earlier, you're just a bit closer this time. We typically wear earplugs to help deaden the sound but I don’t have a spare set.”

“And those … things … you carry, they made all that noise?”

“Yes sir.”

“What on earth are they?”

Alter paused to consider the question, he’d have to relent a little bit here. How to explain.

“They’re called guns. Think of them like a distant cousin to the bow and arrow.”

“What?” Oliver’s mouth hung slightly open as he tried to process what he’d just heard.

“Best not to worry about that right now, we have other things to do.” Alter smiled apologetically and hoped he’d drop the question.

“I … I see.” Oliver turned back to the carriage. “Did your men kill them all?”

“I see no movement, if they’re not dead then they’re unconscious and will have died by the time we get down there.”

“You didn’t think to keep one alive? Unless you have an expert tracker with you, how else are we going to follow them if they took Chloe alive?”

That was a damn good point, Alter kicked himself for not thinking about that. He’d been so dead set on eliminating any threats that he’d completely forgotten about any next steps.

“New contact! There was another bandit behind the carriage, he’s running!” Shouted Pavejack.

Alter hurriedly looked through his rangefinders again and managed to locate the fleeing form who had unwittingly left the only cover available to them. An idea began forming in his mind as he slowly reached for the radio.

“Marksman?” He asked.

“Boss?” Boats responded smartly.

“You got eyes on that runner?”

“I do.”

“He’s got legs.”

“He does indeed.”

“They’re working quite well aren’t they?”

“They seem to be doing a pretty good job aye.”

“Put a stop to that would you? We want to have a nice chat with the bloke.”

Silence fell for a couple of seconds before the sharp crack of Boats’ rifle rang out and the tiny form of the retreating bandit collapsed downward.

“It appears he’s fallen over, boss. The dangers of reckless sprinting on loose ground.”

“Was the hit clean?”

“As clean as I could make it, should’ve impacted just above the left knee.”

“Well, we should be good neighbours and see if he’s ok. Four, stay up here and keep watch, the rest of you come on.” Alter rose to his feet and began picking his way down the opposite slope towards the carriage. His attempts to ignore the disappointed look Walross was giving him were proving ineffective and another pang of guilt hit him, he’d worry about that later though.

Soon he was stalking across flat ground and the smell of woodsmoke filled his nostrils. Alter was satisfied with the size of the bloodpool beneath the first man, he didn’t need checking. The second bandit had remained conscious long enough to curl into the foetal position but hadn’t lasted much longer, again no further actions required. The third was being propped up by the plants he was searching, Alter wasn’t certain but he thought he saw a hand twitch. Quietly, he pulled his pistol from its holster, checked the magazine, aimed, flicked the safety off and fired one shot into the bandit’s torso before safely returning the sidearm to its home at his hip. The bandit hadn’t reacted to the impact so he was likely already gone, but better safe than sorry.

Alter indicated for half of the squad to investigate the carriage before leading the others and Oliver towards the wounded runner whose pained grunts were just becoming audible over the fire. He was trying to crawl away but wasn’t having much luck.

“Fuck me!” Whim suddenly shouted and Alter whipped his head around to see him quickly backing away from the burning transport.

“You all good?” Riptide called over the radio.

“Yeah, just a shock. So it turns out there are a handful of naked bodies all burnt up in the carriage. I’m guessing those are the escorts, they must’ve stripped them and threw them in.” He answered slowly as he put his hands on his knees and took a couple of deep breaths.

“Sick bastards.” Walross muttered with grit in his voice.

“I now know what roast human smells like and I hate that fact … so much!” Whim complained.

Alter didn’t blame him for the outburst, he probably would’ve done the same thing. Step by careful step he closed the distance to the lone survivor. Surprisingly, it was Oliver that stepped forward and turned to him.

“Leave this to me.” He spoke, the faintest hint of luminous blue pulsed in the depths of his eyes.

Alter could think of nothing to do but nod at this instruction and allowed the youth to take the lead. In a fluid motion Oliver drew a short dagger from behind the cloak and used his foot to flip the bandit over onto his back. The man’s eyes were glazing over quickly but he still had enough in him to turn his gaze upward toward them, and let out a pained cackle.

“Fancy boy. Found some friends eh? Too late for the others, all burned up.” he wheezed.

Alter hated this man’s voice, it sounded like rust. Rust and dumb arrogance, even in the face of death.

“The girl in the carriage. What happened to her?” Oliver responded with a steel voice, he crouched down and rested the dagger on the bandit’s rib cage, allowing the point to dig into the flesh above his heart.

“Ahhhahaha. The mousey one? No saving her, fancy boy. She belongs to Murgo now.” Again the ragged laughter taunted their ears, Oliver did not flinch.

“You will tell me where they took her.” He spoke again and there was a faint flash.

Alter couldn’t see his eyes, but there was a pale blue reflection on the side of his nose and the bandit’s eyes glittered cyan. Moments passed in treacle-like tension. In a sudden blur of movement the bandit began to spasm and convulse, his mouth opened and a strange gurgling screech pierced the air that made Alter take a half step backward. The spasms stopped and he fell still, eyes looking blindly at the sun. Oliver let out a slow breath and stood up. Alter and the others looked at him nervously as he turned, his eyes returning to their default state.

“She’s not too far, we need to move.” Was all he said before setting off across the plain towards distant hills.

The assembled men glanced at each other, Alter shrugged and signalled the rest to catch up before falling into step behind Oliver. He had officially lost control of the situation.