They couldn’t vacate the immediate area as quickly as Alter would’ve liked. The early morning’s gentle trot had seen them weave through the trees with ease, but the urgency of their exit posed a much greater challenge. Tarikell was not in his element within this maze of bark and branch, his great size was normally an imposing advantage, but in the tighter confines of the forest his bulk was quite the limiting factor. Boozehound’s smaller, more agile horse had easily slipped ahead of its larger brethren, and was slowly increasing the gap as Tarikell struggled to follow the meandering path. He wasn’t the only one suffering, their speed meant that Alter had precious little time to duck or otherwise avoid any low branches that threatened him. More than once, he found himself being whipped in the face by the leafy tendrils, and was incredibly thankful that he’d decided to keep his helmet on. Seriously, if he got another mouthful of leaves, he’d may well be mistaken for some kind of herbivore.

  Finally, after several servings of surprise salad the trees began to thin out and the muddy boundary of the round came into view. Boozehound had already broken the treeline and disappeared in the direction of the village, flecks of dirt kicked up by his mount’s hooves still landing with small splashes in the water-filled wheel ruts. Their own pace slowed for a moment as they looked for a suitable exit point when Tarikell’s ears pricked up and his head swung in the direction of the farm. Soon after, Alter picked out the sound of thundering hooves coming from that direction and he brought the horse to a halt. Was it a group of squadmates making their escape, or hostels committed to the pursuit? Either way, he didn’t want to be caught flat-footed mid-surface change. Seconds later, a group of three cloaked horsemen came into view at a gallop, their attentions focussed squarely forward. A moment later they were out of visual range again as the road wove its way through the uneven countryside.

  “Three, you’ve got a trio of pursuers roughly twenty seconds behind you, I’m falling in behind them.” Alter radioed in as Tarikell joined the road and settled into a comfortable rhythm.

  “Understood, what do you want me to do?” Boozehound responded.

  “Keep the pace for now, perhaps we can pincer them between us.”

  “Are you sure? We’ll be upon the village in a minute, I’m not getting into a firefight in the middle of a civilian centre.”

  “Agreed. Can you stop anywhere before you reach Marsdale and set up an ambush? You should have just enough time to pull over and get sights up.” Alter suggested.

  “I guess I can keep an eye out,” Boozehound sounded doubtful. “I don’t know how my horse will respond to the noise.”

  “I’ll leave it to your discretion, just give me plenty of warning. Other teams, report in if you can.”

  “Team Two is currently mounting up. Three targets down, more coming.” Riptide sounded stressed.

  “Team Three is on the move, we’re still skirting the perimeter. Be advised there are two more horsemen leaving the farm now.” Walross was much calmer and more analytic.

  “Team Four is away and clear on the secondary path, we’ll meet you back at camp.” Whim finished the reports, having had the fortune of their orchard being next to what they believed to be an old logging trail that nature was still in the process of reclaiming.

  “One acknowledges all. Six, can you tell me anything else about the two riders?”

  “They had weapons drawn before mounting, and left at full speed.”

  “Affirm. All teams are free to take independent actions with the end objective of making it back to camp intact and unfollowed. Keep me updated, One out.”

  Alter settled back down into the saddle, allowing his body to move in time with Tarikell as the horse easily ate up the meters. Alter was by no means a horse whisperer, having only been riding for a matter of weeks, but he did feel as if he was coming to understand his horse’s moods and emotions. Right now, Tarikell was enjoying himself, and there was a deep eagerness urging him to run faster, to close the gap to his equine fellows. But there was also a well-established discipline keeping that urge under control, coupled with an imperious patience safe in the knowledge that the time to truly run would come. Alter was in no rush to spur him onward, the prospect of potentially charging at full tilt into a friendly ambush to be caught in a stream of rifle fire was not high on his list of priorities. Instead, he gave Tarikell a gentle tug on the reins to allow the gap to grow gently before looking over his shoulder. If these extra riders had left Yellowood at the moment Walross had reported in then he had maybe fifty seconds on them, though that gap would be closing, so perhaps it was closer to forty? He was tempted to set up a little trap of his own, but the thought that Boozehound might soon need support kept him from stopping.

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  “Team Two has reached the main road.” Riptide announced.

  Alter found himself letting out a bemused snort at the news. What a strange train they had formed. Boozehound was being followed by three men, who were being followed by him, then another two men, now Riptide and Boats were coming up behind, and doubtless others would hurry after. What a mess of a situation.

  “Alright, I’ve got a good place to set up, I’ve pulled in behind a pile of cut logs on the right-hand side of the road, just after a left turn. One, confirm permission to engage.” Boozehound’s voice had settled into a grim, business-like tone.

  “Granted.” Alter answered and started counting the seconds.

  At the eleven mark the sound of gunfire ahead could be heard over the pounding of hooves. A moment later there were two more shots and the radio sprang to life once more.

  “Ambush mostly successful. Two targets down, but one managed to break through unscathed, remounting. Be advised there are horses lying in the road after you round the corner.”

  Alter leaned forward and clutched the reins tightly as the promised lefthand turn came into view. Sensing his unease, Tarikell eased the pace slightly as they came upon the scene of Boozehound’s ambush. True to his report, two horses lay dead on the path ten meters ahead, one of the riders lay in a broken heap a little further along, the other had been thrown into a stand of bushes off to the left. Tarikell accelerated upon seeing the obstacle, leaping upwards with effortless might to sail cleanly over the corpses and land with a heavy thud without losing momentum. This increase in speed saw them quickly catch up to the medic whose horse was still accelerating from their standing start.

  “Are you alright?” Alter shouted over to him as Tarikell slowed his pace to match.

  “I’m all good. Are you sure engaging these guys was the right thing to do?” The medic shouted back.

  “I think so. These men are all armed and likely hostile, plus we need to keep our movements and whereabouts under strict control.”

  “Then we need to deal with all of them, not just the unlucky half.”

  “You’re right.” Alter’s shoulders slumped as he grimaced and reached for the radio. “All teams, new orders. All potential hostiles are to be eliminated. Two, how many of the riders did you engage in the orchard?”

  “We took two out in the opening exchange, along with Green. We’ve spotted the two ahead of us a couple of times on the straight parts, do you want us to catch and engage?” Riptide responded.

  Alter did the quick mental maths. Four of the eight riders were accounted for already. One was ahead of them, two were behind but they would soon be joining their dispatched comrades. That left one missing, along with the remaining fake farmers.

  “You do that, Two. Then stop and set up an ambush for anyone that comes after you. Teams Three and Four, return to the farm and set up overwatch, engage any targets of opportunity as they arise.” Alter ordered.

  Both teams responded with affirmatives and Alter refocussed his thoughts on their now lone quarry. Marsdale was close now, surprised and scared pedestrians who were only just making it back onto the road after the cloaked man passed had to throw themselves back into the surrounding fields as the two of them came thundering after. The village itself, as many are, was built around an important crossroads leading to the various regional towns and cities. Unfortunately, Marsdale had woken up, and the street was busy with men and women moving in all directions. The last rider was clearly visible ahead, but the number of innocent lives that would be at risk from a stray bullet prevented him from opening fire. He wasn’t too worried though, it was clear that the fleeing horse was moving as fast as it possibly could, and Tarikell had two, possibly even three more gears he could ratchet up to. Multiple warnings shouted by the villagers ensured that the road was cleared as they galloped through. Once the last of the homes had passed, Alter dug his heels twice into Tarikell’s flanks and the beast responded with a tsunami of forward momentum that had him hanging on for dear life. Seeing that they were outmatched, Boozehound brought his own horse down to a reasonable pace in order to catch up in a more risk-free manner.

  Alter steadied himself against the onrushing world, and slowly retrieved his pistol from its holster. He’d prefer to use his rifle but things were a little too extreme and he was not confident enough a rider to take both hands off the reins. In an ideal world he’d like to take this man alive, but that would entirely depend on whether he would be aware or willing enough to stop. The gap closed, the wind whipped and whistled in his helmet, his eyes stung and he thanked the lack of slow-flying insects to bumble into them. The rider turned and stared at him wide-eyed for a good few seconds before frantically spurring his horse to reach a speed that it could never attain. Then Tarikell’s head was alongside, Alter pointed his pistol at the man and ordered him to slow down. There was no response, the rider simply stared ahead. Alter asked again, he was fully alongside now as Tarikell overtook them. No answer. A gap in the hedges they rode between offered the man an escape path into the fields and he yanked his horse’s head towards it. Seeing that this divergence could cause all manner of complications, Alter made a snap decision and pulled the trigger once. The shot was low, but he wasn’t aiming for the man. The horse recoiled sideways as the bullet hit its flank, the sudden shift causing it to miss the gap and instead careen headfirst into the thick, sturdy foliage. The rider was catapulted forwards over the hedge and into the field with a horrified shriek. The horse, bleeding from several small puncture wounds on its neck and face, allowed adrenaline to continue its charge down the road and out of sight. Alter let it go, brought Tarikell to a halt, and sent him trotting towards the gap. Here’s hoping the man hadn’t broken his neck in the fall.