Look Behind You (The Order of the Silver Star) (10 page)

When he glanced back over the room eight minutes later to make doubly sure he hadn’t left anything, the coffee mugs were gone.

#####

1
5
No, go ahead.

1
6
Yes, I’m finished.

17
Fabulous.

18
My grandmother

#####

*****

The train ride to Dover was pretty boring. It was too dark to see anything much outside once the moon set, though until then sometimes the churches and other prominent buildings in the towns stood out in the moonlight. And Matt really wasn’t in the mood to join Hickman and some of the others in a poker game in the dining car after they ate. Instead, he concentrated on seeing what he could see and mentally running through everything he needed to know for his mission.

He tried not to let himself wonder about Chris, about Nimrod, about Mama and Papa… about Colleen. But it was nearly a two-hour trip, and he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering for the entire time.

Nimrod had apparently come down to Dover right after the meeting the previous day and was waiting for the Rangers at the station. “We’ll be coming into Dunkirk shortly before sunrise and low tide,” he stated as he led them down the pier toward the ship. “But that’s as well—the Gerries won’t expect anyone to be coming ashore then, and it means we can land further out on the beach and away from prying eyes.”

“What about horses?” Halberson asked.

“They’ll be waiting for us at Dunkirk. You should have a bit of time to get used to your new mount before you need to leave.”

Halberson grumbled something Matt didn’t catch, and the man nearest to Halberson knocked his hat down over his eyes to shut him up.

Once everyone was on board and the ship was underway, the Rangers gathered in the ward room to go over the plan once more and hear the latest intelligence updates from Nimrod. Then the men who had specific targets had private meetings with Hamer and Nimrod. Matt, for some reason, was last.

“This is a big assignment, Schneider,” Hamer said as Matt shut the ward room door behind him. “Wouldn’t normally send you alone to a city this size, but you’re not takin’ down the whole government.”

“That would be a tall order, even for me,” Matt agreed.

Nimrod chuckled. “Hercules will have more details for you when you arrive, and you’ll be working with him to accomplish this objective. The two of you are to capture Luftwaffe
Headquarters as intact as possible, particularly retrieving as many intelligence documents as you can. Any prisoners you can take would of course be beneficial—the higher their ranks, the better. The rest of the liberation will wait for the main force arriving from Normandy.”

Matt nodded. “Understood.”

“You’ll have Hercules, of course,” Hamer repeated, “but if you need more backup than that, wave this.” He handed Matt a piece of green cloth that was folded up in a thick packet small enough to fit in his back pocket. “The Fair Folk have promised us all the help we need.”

Matt nodded again and pocketed the bundle. He could sense some kind of power in it, but it didn’t feel much different from the fairy stone.

Nimrod then gave Matt precise directions to the rendezvous point where he was to meet Hercules. “He’ll meet you there shortly after you arrive,” Nimrod continued. “The recognition code is, ‘The mighty hunter sends regards.’”

“‘The mighty hunter sends regards.’ Got it.”

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and a petty officer opened it and stepped into the room. “Excuse me, Capt. Hamer? We’ve run into a spot of trouble. Would you come with me, please?”

Frowning, Hamer and Matt followed the petty officer to the bridge, where they saw what the ‘spot of trouble’ was. Straight ahead, as far as the eye could see, the water suddenly turned hurricane-rough; Messerschmidts circled overhead in an unnaturally darkened sky, and masses of troops and Panzers were faintly visible on the
shore. The numbers far exceeded any intelligence estimates of the forces in the area.

“Aw,
hell
,” said Hamer and grabbed the microphone for the ship’s loudspeaker system. Pressing the button, he chanted, “
Taa Ahpu ohka pui pabo nʉ uhtu̱!
”

The illusion sha
ttered. Instantly the sky was clear and empty of planes, the water calm, and the landing zone deserted. There was no one there at all.

“Bloody hell,” breathed the ship’s captain. “How... how did you....”

Hamer hung up the microphone with a snort. “Ah, that’s an old one. Apaches tried it on the border a few times before Mackenzie cleaned ’em out in ’73. Didn’t work then, either,” he added with a grin that Matt returned.

“But what did you say?”

“‘God grant me clear eyes.’ Comanche. How the hell the Krauts got hold of an Apache glamour spell beats me, but there it is.”

“I’m not so sure they did,” stated Nimrod from the doorway.

Hamer turned to him. “How do you mean?”

“Gerry’s using pagan magic—the Teutonic kind, from the bad old days before St. Boniface showed them what’s what. I’d lay a hundred to one that whoever wrote that spell had no idea one could call upon Yahweh and break the glamour in seven words.”

Hamer nodded thoughtfully. “That could well be.” And he turned to go.

“Er, I say, old man,” said the ship’s captain suddenly. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask, but do—do you ever use that kind of thing?”

Hamer’s back straightened. “No. We don’t need to.” And he left.

“… don’t need to?” the captain echoed, looking at Matt in confusion.

Matt nodded. “There old Bill McDonald spoke the truth. ‘No man in the wrong can stand up to a man who’s in the right and keeps a-comin’.’ A man who’s in the right is on God’s side, after all—and what is magic to that?”

Nimrod grinned, and Matt suddenly felt like he had aced some kind of exam.

~~~~~

Chap
ter 5

Unleashed

May 7, 1941

Matt and Nimrod left the bridge to rejoin Hamer and continue going over the details of Matt’s mission, but halfway there, Matt paused. “Wait. That beach was
empty
. Shouldn’t….”

Nimrod held up a hand, cutting him off. “There’s a difference between sight distorted by illusion and sight that cannot see what is usually invisible to mortal eyes. The Comanche prayer resolves only the former.”

“Oh. So our… contacts are there?”

“They are indeed. You’ll see them in due time.”

Matt nodded in comprehension.

Because the tide was out, the ship had to stop several hundred yards from the shoreline. It had been stationary for a minute or so when the Rangers got word that a launch had come out to take them on to the beach. The smaller boat was still big enough to hold all fifty Rangers and Nimrod, plus all their gear, and the pilot was another agent who went by Cuchulain. As the launch started toward the beach, Matt watched to make sure the ship got away well, so he missed seeing precisely at what point the fairy encampment on the beach became visible. He simply turned around and was startled to see a large pavilion decorated with gaily colored banners, an even larger corral full of beautiful horses, and what looked like a group of about twenty people in medievalish garb.

“
Santa Maria
,” Martinez breathed.

“Like somethin’ out of a storybook,” someone else remarked, quietly enough that Matt couldn’t place the voice.

“There’s your horses, Halberson,” Hickman jibed.

Halberson nodded slowly. “Well, now, they surely is.”

Cuchulain laughed. “Keen on horses, is he? Sure and Their Majesties will be glad to hear it.”

A low murmur went up at that, some of the men wondering why King George and Queen Elizabeth should care about their opinion of horses and others wondering whether Cuchulain had meant some other monarchs. Matt kept his hunch about which monarchs they were to himself—there was no sense in trying to skirt too close to the taboo, after all.

There wasn’t a dock within sight, so Cuchulain had to let down a rope ladder for the Rangers to climb down to the beach. Once everyone had disembarked, Cuchulain led the group toward two men who stood head and shoulders above even Matt and were standing apart from the others. One’s clothes were green and gold; the other was wearing a kilt.

“Your Majesties,” Cuchulain said with a bow. “May I present a delegation of the Order of the Silver Star. Gentlemen, the lords of Faërie.”

“Welcome, friends,” said the one in the kilt with a brogue to match. “’Tis glad we are of your help. Mortal wars are for mortals to fight, but we shall gie ye all the aid we can.”

“’Tis short the time is,” continued the other, who sounded more Irish, “but still Oberon and I deem ye may need a bit of time to acquaint yourselves with your steeds. Come with us, an ye will.”

Silently the Rangers followed the fairy kings over to the corral, where the other fairies had already brought out and saddled a handful of horses, using Western-style saddles. Each had apparently already been assigned to a particular Ranger; Oberon began calling names when they were within ten yards of the corral, and a fairy hand brought a horse to each man as soon as his name was called. Matt received a beautiful dapple grey mare that looked surprisingly like one of his favorite horses from childhood. She was a calm horse, too, and stood still while he mounted and responded quickly to his commands. He barely even had to touch the reins. Her gait was gentle but swift, and he got the sense that he wouldn’t fall off her back unless he wanted to. Then he dismounted and talked to her for a moment as he petted her muzzle, and she seemed to like him.

Not until he turned around to see where the luggage was did he notice that some of the other Rangers weren’t having as easy a time of it. Halberson had lost his hat and was hanging on to his saddle horn like he’d almost been bucked off. Several of the fairy hands were laughing at him even as they helped him down and retrieved his hat. Hickman galloped past swearing at the top of his lungs as his horse whinnied with glee, and Hamer’s brother Clint seemed to be having trouble interesting his horse in anything but food. Nimrod had disappeared somewhere, but Cuchulain was clearly stifling laughter as he brought Matt his bags and rifle.

Matt accepted his gear but asked quietly, “Cuchulain… I like this horse, don’t misunderstand, but I’m no better a horseman than some of these men. Why is this so much easier for me?”

Cuchulain kept his voice equally low, although his eyes were dancing with mirth. “Why, man, you’re fae-touched!” And he pointed directly at the spot on Matt’s cheek where Colleen had kissed him. “Her Ladyship’s favor is no mean thing, let me tell you.”

Matt blinked twice and felt himself blush. “Whu—bu—why—well, who is she?”

“Oh, I think there’ll be time enough to learn that once you’ve gone home.” Cuchulain tapped the side of his nose and winked, then walked away chuckling.

Swallowing hard and trying to stop blushing, Matt settled his bags behind the saddle and went off to find Martinez.

It took the better part of an hour for all of the Rangers to get their assigned horses under control. After that, Cuchulain provided an update on conditions inland while Hamer handed out radios. Then White led the group in the Lord’s Prayer, and Hamer gave the signal to mount up.

There was a pause in which it seemed that everyone was looking for something to say. Hamer broke it by hollering, “All right, Rangers, let’s ride!”

Everyone whooped, and finally, finally, they were off.

*****

“French roads,” Martinez said the third time he checked the map, “make no damn sense.”

“Probably ’cause they didn’t have buffalo trails to follow,” Matt replied.

“I’m serious,
ese
.”

“So am I. May have made sense when this place was Gaul, but who the hell knows what was going on after the Romans left.”

Martinez grumbled something in Spanish about straight lines and put the map away. He was traveling with Matt as far as Creil before he had to head back toward the coast, and in theory, it should have been easy enough to ride due south from Dunkirk past Amiens and on to the outskirts of Paris. Doing so would save them half a day, maybe more, and should keep them pushing through the part of the countryside affected by the wall of spells rather than detouring through areas far enough from the coast to be safe. But after an afternoon of jumping hedgerows that they cleared only due to riding fairy horses, they were faced with the choice between continuing to jump every five minutes or trying to navigate a roadmap that looked like it had been drawn by a drunken spider.

Personally, Matt figured that cutting straight across country meant they were less likely to get lost. And they were less likely to run into any Nazi patrols if they stayed off the road. That didn’t make the choice a fun or easy one.