Chapter Twenty-One

The spy glided through the night with no more noise than that of a shadow cast in the light of the moon and creeping across the landscape. In her left hand she bore a coded message destined for the eyes of her contact and ally in the Griff clan. In her right hand a lance, its steel head blackened to avoid reflecting the moonlight and attracting unwanted attention.

She'd always thought women made the best spies. They were subtle and stealthy, moving with grace and ease across uneven terrain or negotiating adverse situations. With proper training and experience, the face of a woman would never betray while that of a man could be read like an open book. Whether driven by greed or lust or sometimes even a simple quest for power, in her estimation all men were pathetic in their attempts to hide the truth.

She amended her thoughts; for the face of every man could be read other than one. And that one remained inscrutable, a constant mystery. He revealed only what he chose and kept all else carefully concealed for none to see. At will, his visage and bearing became stone, his emotions hidden like the blackness of a deep well or the darkest of nights.

It was Caddo, of course. A man many hated and feared but had earned the love and respect of many others. For what had to be the thousandth time, she wondered what existed behind his mask. She wondered if she would ever discover his secrets but feared what lurked there if she ever did.

The moonlight streamed across the landscape, illuminating the drop point. It was there she would leave her message. She had been watching for signs of movement for half the night, fearing betrayal by those on two legs or attack by those on four. Strange predators roamed the Wastelands, unearthly things brought or corrupted by the Visitors.

When she was satisfied no one lie in wait, she slipped toward the slab of granite, one differentiating itself from others by the unusual vein of white quartz running through it. Further ahead, she could make out the line of trees and crops that surrounded the enclave of the Griff clan. Blanchard Springs sprung from the midst of the desolation as a lush and verdant wall, irrigated by waters from the depths of the cavern and cultivated by the entire clan, a paradise in the center of hell.

Approaching the granite, her eyes scanned the landscape, always watching for movement. It was a dangerous game she played, for her life would be forfeit should she be caught. Spies were never afforded mercy when captured and she steeled herself when she knelt before the rock. The quartz slash disappeared into the soil at the base of the slab. Buried there was a tiny metal box covered in cryptic symbols and words. She slipped the message into the box and closed the lid, staring at it as she had dozens of times over the years, once again pondering the mystery of the red cross on its surface and the meaning of the words "First Aid."

It was a remnant of a bygone era, an enigma with its answer clouded by the passage of time like that of so many other relics scattered across the Wastelands.

She buried the box and positioned the signal rock on the slab. The black chunk of granite placed on the white band of quartz sent a message to her confederate: a message had been dropped.

She paused again, reflecting on the message itself. Never before had a missive been of such great import. And never before had the cost been so great should all fall to pieces.

The mine is dying, two seasons remain.

He has placed two crates in her care.

She has them deep under the earth and well guarded.

Beware, the crates contain death.

She had listened at the confab, hidden from all those present to hear the words of Caddo. Even when Rison and Afton were dismissed did she keep herself furtive and unseen. The secrets revealed were troubling and she struggled to keep herself concealed, knowing the consequences should she be discovered. Caddo had unveiled his plan but she was confident it was only a portion of his intrigues. The man had proven forever to be devious if nothing else.

She was shocked upon hearing the mines were nearly played out, and her gasp came close to revealing her presence. Yet she was doubly shocked at the audacity of Caddo and his venomous hatred for the Mandu. He was a dangerous man she reminded herself.

She knew she had little choice but to act once the plan was unveiled. This information needed to reach her counterpart in the Griff clan. Lives were at stake and such was the life of a spy. The notion of betrayal did not enter her mind and she never considered her acts treasonous. She remained steadfast in her conviction she did what she did to save lives and protect the clans. She acted for the greater good and that alone gave her comfort.

By the time she slipped away from the rock, the moon had drifted beyond the distant line of trees delineating the Griff territory. She moved through the night with caution, blessed with extraordinary night vision and thereby displaying an uncanny ease as she picked her way over and through the rugged terrain. The sound of grunting and scuffling gave her pause as some nocturnal creatures were having at it, perhaps rutting or squabbling over prey or territory. She didn't know or care. She gave them a wide berth and continued onward to the rendezvous point.

Ahead, she heard the soft knickering of a horse and the clank of hooves against pavement. She shook her head in dismay, irritated her assistant allowed the horses to make so much noise. It seemed he lacked a thorough understanding of the dangers of the night.

"Afton, do I need to thump your head?" she asked drawing near. "Do you have any idea the distance the sound of those hooves can travel on a night like this?"

Afton glanced nervously over his shoulder. "My apologies. Something was spooking the horses and I moved them to higher ground."

The spy took the reins of her horse, checking her frustration and knowing she would deal with it later. "Come. We have a long way to go. We will be missed if we are gone from the clan for too long."

They rode in silence for a bit and she could sense Afton itching to question her. And she suspected rightfully so. She had roped him into an act many would consider treason and in hindsight, maybe unfair to Afton. But it was a game she had played a long time, perhaps far too long. She pondered that for a moment.

Afton could wait no longer, it seemed. "I don't mean to intrude for I sense your reticence to speak. But is this worth it all? Is there no other way?"

She shook her head. "You are yet young. At your age everything seemed clear cut to me as well. But the world can be an ugly place and we must do the things that need doing, even when they seem..." Her voice trailed off.

"Evil?" said Afton. She knew he was trying to anticipate.

She smiled. "That's not where I was heading."

"Where then?" he asked.

"Distasteful. Perhaps that's the correct word."

She let him digest that as they rode. Evil? Maybe the boy was closer to the truth than she realized. For who knew how far she would go to save he whom she loved. Did anyone? It pained her to think of it, but she knew she would sacrifice the lad riding next to her in an instant--or anyone else for that matter--should she be faced with the choice: Afton or her son. Afton or Wyatt.

The name still seemed foreign on her tongue. Wyatt.

Yes, she determined. She would kill for him. She would betray nations for him. She would even betray the very one who had saved him fifteen years ago.

Afton cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice tentative and soft. "Distasteful? Forgive me, but I think this can be a word used to make evil sound more palatable."

"Perhaps you are right."

"I will follow you, my Touri. Lead me and I will follow." The earnest tone of his voice tore at her heart.

And it was her willingness to betray someone who trusted so completely that then told the tale. She was Tyler, Touri of the Blood clan but she was also a mother. She was the mother of a Speck and she knew she was capable of evil in whatever guise it formed.

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Tyler, Tyler. You naughty girl! How could you do this evil thing?

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