Kate Saundby - Fortune's Hostage.pdf - Kate Saundby - widez2

Table of Contents

Fortune's Hostage

Chapter 1 War's End

Chapter 2 Eagle in a Cage

Chapter 3 Royal Reflections

Chapter 4 Portrait of a Terrorist

Chapter 5 A Trip and a Decision

Chapter 6 Jemma

Chapter 8 A Member of the Club

Chapter 9 Reunion

Chapter 10 Gideon Redux

Fortune's Hostage

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or

mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system,

without the permission in writing from Double Dragon Publishing.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s

imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is

entirely coincidental.

While Double Dragon Publishing makes every effort possible to publish full and correct credits for each work

included or expressed, sometimes errors of omission or commission may occur. For this reason we are most

regretful, but hereby must disclaim any liability.

ISBN: 1-894841-22-0

First Edition eBook Publishing December 20, 2001

Dedication:To Herman and Barbara, and peacemakers everywhere

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 War's End..5

Chapter 2 Eagle in a Cage..12

Chapter 3 Royal Reflections..22

Chapter 4 Portrait of a Terrorist.63

Chapter 5 A Trip and a Decision..140

Chapter 6 Jemma..156

Chapter 8 A Member of the Club..185

Chapter 9 Reunion..212

Chapter 10 Gideon Redux..235

Part One

The Bargain

Chapter 1 War's End

The pass hung silent and silver under the fitful moon. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Hefting

her heavy rifle to her other shoulder, Sybilla glanced at her communicator's luminescent dial. Only two

more hours until her relief.

She sensed rather than heard the intruder and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. "Halt! Who goes

there? Identify yourself or I'll shoot."

"Tonight's password is White Wolf 707, and hello to you too, little sister."

Sybilla had all she could do not to drop her weapon in the snow and hug her older brother. Instead, she

came to attention and dutifully presented arms. "Commander? Isn't it a little early for inspection?"

Carlo chuckled. "I got done earlier than I'd expected. Call up your relief. We've got some talking to do."

"Talking? As in social visit?"

"Not exactly, but I'd just as soon get out of this wind if you don't mind."

Entering the wooden guard hut, Carlo shucked his battle helmet, gloves and heavy greatcoat. He

stamped his booted feet, then stood warming his hands at the black iron stove. Fine strands of dark hair

were plastered to his pale forehead and his blue eyes looked tired beyond belief.

After placing her rifle in the rack, Sybilla shook the snow from her brother's dark green coat and hung it

up. When he smiled, she was struck anew by how handsome he was.

"Quite the little mother, aren't you, love?"

"There's not much space in here and that's our only chair." She unsnapped her chin strap, then removed

her bulky headgear. After neatly placing the night vision glasses and helmet on the shelf above her bunk,

she thankfully took off her bandolier and heavy jacket. "Phew! I need a shower."

Carlo eyed her sweat-stained wool shirt and heavy fatigue pants with some sympathy. With all the extra

bulk, Sybilla still looked no bigger than a mouse and, much as he loved his baby sister, even he had to

admit she would never be a beauty. Her heavy glasses perched on the end of her reddened nose, her

pale blond hair had been flattened by the heavy helmet to the point of virtual non-existence and her tiny

ferret-like features were even paler than usual.

"Momma sent me to bring you home. The war's over."

"The war's .... What? Oh, come on, Carlo, this is no time for jokes."

"No joke, little sister. The war is well and truly over."

"What about Port Moriah?"

"Momma's made a treaty with the Illyrians. In return for the Synod's protection, she's given up all claims

to the port. From now on, it's to be neutral territory."

Sybilla's mouth dropped open.

The exquisite white-walled city of Moriah was their country's only outlet to the sea. A bone of

contention between Illyria and Lodebar for over a thousand years, the bustling seaport had changed

ownership every hundred years or so as regularly as clockwork.

In this latest go-around, Illyria's King Daniel had kicked the Lodebarians out in a daring midnight raid

and denied them access to their fishing fleet. Queen Sidonia of Lodebar fled to the safety of Aretz, or

Old Earth, where she appealed to the Interplanetary Synod Assembly for help. She'd returned a month

ago and ordered her youngest daughter, Sybilla, up to Great Bear Pass for her regular tour of duty.

"The Synod? As in troops? You mean they actually came through?"

"Yup. As of now, Lodebar's under official Synod protection. An Allied detail should be coming up the

pass any time to take over this guard station."

"What about Daniel? Don't tell me the Mountain King is gonna to give up a thousand years of tradition

with one stroke of the pen? Oh, I don't believe it. This has to be some dirty Illyrian trick."

"No trick. Illyria's Crown Prince Darius was captured by Synod troops four days ago. They caught him

on our territory and it seems he's the one behind the Masked Death raids. That's how the Synod

Assembly forced Daniel to the treaty table."

"That little bastard was behind the Masked Death raids? And they didn't execute him on the spot?"

Sybilla shuddered. Men, women or children, the Masked Death hadn't cared. They came and went like

shadows in the night, leaving their calling card at the scene of every slaughter: a razor sharp silver dagger

bearing a snarling mountain lion's head on its handle.

"Actually, our people had him first, along with his little squad of terrorists."

"Alive? Why didn't they ...?"

"First of all, they didn't realize who he was. Secondly, they hadn't gotten around to him yet. He was

behind the wall of some farmhouse where his squad had taken cover. When one of our half-tracks came

over the wall, he was underneath it. Our men had just finished cutting the other prisoners' throats and

were pulling him out of the rubble when the Synod troops arrived. He was fighting like a wildcat. Even

with the extra troops' help, they had one hell of a time subduing him."

"And they let the Synod take him, just like that?"

Sybilla handed her brother a steaming mug of broth and he sipped it gratefully. "Ah. That's good."

"It's what's left of a hare I trapped the other night. But go on. What happened next?"

"The Synod commander said he needed a prisoner for interrogation. Our captain saw no reason why

not. The Illyrian was badly hurt and probably wouldn't live long anyway. If he'd had any idea ...." Carlo

cursed softly under his breath.

"Do you think the Synod commander knew?"

"Sure he did and it was almost as if he'd been tipped off. I found out later they whisked him straight off

the planet. Where he is now is anyone's guess."

"That's how they got Daniel to the treaty table?"

"His queen was killed in battle a couple of years ago and that murdering brat's his only son. If it were up

to me, I'd string him up right now. The Synod has other ideas. Right now, they're holding him hostage to

Daniel's good behavior."

Sybilla sank into the chair. "I can't believe it. What does Momma say about all this?"

"She demanded Prince Darius's surrender to her custody so she could put him on trial. At the moment,

she's probably madder at the Synod Assembly than Daniel is."

"But you said she's signed the treaty. She's given up Port Moriah as well?"

"Apparently. She's made some sort of a deal with the Synod Assembly in return for economic

assistance."

"She sold us out for money?"

Carlo shrugged. "It seems that way, but what choice does she have, Syb? Our people are starving. With

their housing and crops destroyed, half are living in cotton tents with hardly enough blankets and food to

keep body and soul together, and winter's just getting started. I mean, look at you. Except for what

you've been able to trap or forage, you'd be starving too."

"That's true. We haven't seen a supply shipment for weeks. As for pay, forget it. We aren't even getting

that worthless paper scrip any more. Not that it was good for anything anyway, outside a fire starter."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. I don't even care to ask what's in the Commissary stew. Rat, probably."

The hut door opened to admit a blue-helmeted Synod captain and five warmly clad men. Carlo and

Sybilla returned his salute.

The captain's accent was that of a Seiran. "Your Highness. We've a supply truck and a couple of

half-tracks outside. Will you be requiring an escort down the mountain?"

"Supply truck? As in real food?" Sybilla couldn't help herself.

White teeth flashed in the visitor's dark face. "We could have dinner first. It seems to me I even saw a

bottle of brandy in one of the packs." He signaled to one of his men. "Mischa here is a fair cook, even

with the dehydrated stuff our quartermaster has the nerve to call a meal. I would be honored to have you

as my guests."

Sybilla looked down at herself in dismay. "If you gentlemen will excuse me ...." She grabbed a change of

clothes from the locker at the foot of her bunk and disappeared into the hut's tiny bathroom.

"Well, at least the heater still works," remarked Carlo. "I'd offer you something, Captain, but all we have

is some hare broth and not much of that."

"We got here none too soon, then. The situation's been the same with every guard post we've visited.

How you folks have held out this long is beyond me."

When the prince smiled, his weariness wasn't lost on the captain. "We were closer to the end of our

rope than Daniel knew. Another week or two ...."

"Just as well we're here, then. Ah, Mischa, bring that brandy over here with a couple of mugs. Your

Highness, to your very good health."

Carlo raised his mug. "And that of Lodebar. Speaking of Daniel, what's the status with his son?"

The Seiran's eyes hooded. "The kid's where Daniel won't find him."

"He's alive?"

"As of my last report."

"Will you turn him over to my mother for trial?"

"The Assembly's Executive Committee has voted no."

Kate Saundby - Fortune's Hostage.pdf

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