Read Online Valentine's Rising by E.E. Knight - Free Book Online Page A

orders. One of Ahn-Kha’s scouting Grogs squatted to rest.
    â€œWe might do better off the trail,” Narcisse said to Valentine from her perch in the Quickwood wagon. Joints of horsemeat hung from a frame Jefferson had added to the wagon bed. It was too cool for flies. “These roads are almost as bad.”
    Smalls’ son took the opportunity to put a taconite pellet in his wrist-rocket, a surgical tubing sling that he used to bring down squirrels. The boy ventured into the trees while Valentine thought. David looked at Ahn-Kha, who was sniffing the wintry air.
    â€œRain soon,” Ahn-Kha said.
    â€œThe Magazine Mountain Station can’t be far,” Valentine said to Post. “Let’s pull off the trail and camp.”
    There had been no more Reapers since leaving the house. The refugees Valentine led made agonizingly slow progress through the ridges of the Ouachitas, with occasional halts to hide at the sound of distant engines. They had seen no living human—though they had come across a Reaper-drained skeleton lodged in the crotch of a tree, giving Mrs. Smalls a warmer coat once it was pulled off the corpse and cleaned. A pack of stranger-shy dogs tailed them, exploring the surroundings of the campfire and digging up the camp’s sanitary holes in search of choice snacks. Valentine had tried to tempt them closer with fresher food than something that had already passed through the human digestive system, but the dogs would have none of it. Every now and then he saw a wary, furry face appear on the road behind, proving that they were still being tailed. Valentine wanted the dogs with them. Dogs hated Reapers—or feared them—and usually whined or bayed an alarm if one was near.
    Valentine waved Ahn-Kha and Post over.
    â€œSir?” Post asked.
    Valentine looked up at the flat-topped loom of Magazine Mountain. “Post, we’re near one of the big camps of Southern Command. I’m going to take Ahn-Kha and see what, if anything, is left. Pull off out of sight of the road, cover your tracks and camp. We’ll go on foot; give the horses a rest.”
    â€œChances are that fort’s in Kurian hands.”
    â€œI know. That’s why I’m bringing Ahn-Kha. Having a Grog along might confuse them long enough for me to talk my way loose, or get the jump on a patrol.”
    â€œHow long you figure on being gone?”
    â€œLess than a day. If twenty-four hours go by and you don’t hear from us, act as you will. I’d say the Boston Mountains are your best chance, on the other side of the Arkansas River. If there’s anything left of Southern Command, it should be there. Get the Quickwood to them. Don’t forget the seeds.”
    Post fingered the pouch around his neck, identical to Valentine’s, though it didn’t contain any mahjong pieces. “I’ll see it through, Val.”
    â€œThank you. I’ll probably be back in time for horsemeat and flatbread.”
    He took Ahn-Kha over to the supply wagon. They each threw a bag made out of old long-sleeved shirts over their shoulders. The shirt-sacks contained bread. Mr. Smalls rose from where he squatted next to his wife.
    â€œEverything all right with you two?” Valentine asked them.
    â€œJust a little tired, Mr. Ghost,” Mrs. Smalls said, her belly prominent through the opening in the coat.
    â€œWe’re stopping for a day or two. Fix yourselves up under the bed of the wagon. Looks like we might get some rain.”
    â€œHank’s been picking up sharp quartz crystals; there’s lots of them in these hills,” Mr. Smalls said. “If we attach ’em to the front of those wooden spear points, they might serve you a little better.” He reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out a spear point.
    Valentine looked at it. The boy had set a piece of quartz into the front, carving the wood into four prongs, like a gem-holder on a ring. Valentine tested the