James Axler – Shadowfall

“For all here,” Doc echoed.

“Amen to that.” The baron drained his measure of the rich, pungent wine. “Excellent,” he said. “Here is to the damnation of all enemies.”

“And to safe returns,” Krysty whispered, touching her glass to Ryan’s.

EVERYONE RETIRED to their beds to get some rest before the midnight meeting.

Alone among the friends, Doc found himself unable to sleep, the excitement of the fighting to come making him feel restless, combined with a slight overindulgence in the superb chardonnay.

He walked down to the main doors, where a sleepy young sec guard limped over to let him out into the cool night air.

There was another sec man, looking even older than Doc, carrying a single-shot musket on his shoulder, pacing beneath the shadow of the high wall.

“Who’s that?”

“Doc Tanner.”

“Have to speak up a little. Hearing’s a tad weaker than it once was.”

“Doc Tanner! One of the outlanders.”

“All right, all right. No need to shout at me, Doc. Not that deaf.”

Doc left the sentry and strolled quietly around the back of the ville, approaching the stable. He caught movement in the huddled darkness and stepped toward it, drawing the Le Mat. “Halt, who goes there?” he challenged.

“Friend,” the small voice replied.

“Dean? That’s not”

“It’s me, Doc. Jamie.”

“Ah, yes. Of course it is. Forgive an old man’s foolishness, my boy.”

“Sure.”

Somewhere behind the young lad, Doc heard the sound of a pony moving restlessly, stamping its hooves,

“Wait a moment,” he said. “Wait a goshdarned moment, Jamie. Were you thinking of heading out there on your own? That’s it, isn’t it?”

The boy’s voice was so thin it sounded as if it might snap at any moment. Doc moved closer, putting out a friendly arm, feeling Jamie shrink from him.

“You’ll tell my father. Then he won’t even let me come along with you.”

There was a small iron bench in the yard, and Doc led the baron’s son to it, sitting down beside him.

“You were planning to go ahead, were you not?”

“Yes, Doc.”

“Why? No, don’t answer that for a moment. Might it be that you had a thought to go to this Straub and the brushwooders? Reveal who you were and hope they would let Dean go? Could it truly be that?”

“No.”

The lie was so transparent that Doc nearly laughed, just barely checking himself. “Of course, it wouldn’t be, my lad. Because, assuming they believed you, they would slit the throat of young Dean within five heartbeats of your admission. And where would our plan be, then? Riddle me that, Jamie.”

“Spoiled.”

Doc patted him on the arm. “The thought does you nothing but credit, lad. It was an honorable and courageous intention. The shame is that nobody else will ever know of it.”

“What?”

“I shall tell nobody, Jamie. Will you?”

“Suppose not.”

“And you promise me on your father’s honor that you will now go to your room and try to snatch some sleep? And I shall do the same.”

“All right.”

“Promise me,” Doc said. “If you please.”

“I promise.”

“Good lad. One last thing. Before you scud away, I would deem it an honor to shake you by the hand, Jamie Weyman.”

A small hand slipped into his, and the old man gripped it firmly. For a fraction of a second, he had a vision of his long-lost little boy, Jolyon, wondering how his life had turned out without a father. “Thanks, Doc.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Sitting still, he could feel the cold of the metal through his breeches, as the lithe figure of the boy vanished toward the main house.

Doc didn’t bother to go to bed, contenting himself with sitting in the deserted stable yard, alone with his thoughts and his memories.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rainey was already there in the yard when Ryan and the others arrived at the stable. Doc was stalking around, breath feathering from his mouth in the cold, slapping his hands for warmth. The group of ten sec men stood huddled together, a few of them smoking, the glowing ends of their cigarettes like tiny beacons in the darkness.

“Horses saddled and ready,” the sec boss said.