The bright orange sun baked down on the dry dusty road, the heat shimmering on its surface. Insects chirped and small animals rustled in the low bushes and scrub that surrounded the road. A small rabbit popped out from a bush and crouched by the roadside to nibble at a green plant. A bird of prey wheeled overhead, occasionally emitting a high, keening cry, in search of a mate.
All was still, if not totally silent. But abruptly, that changed.
The insects stopped singing. The bird of prey suddenly wheeled and flapped into the distance. The rabbit froze, eyes widening with terror, ears flattening against its head.
A new haze shimmered on the road surface and from nowhere a man appeared. He was a tall and well-built man with impassive, chiselled features and shining ebony skin beneath a glittering golden helmet that obscured most of his face. A dark cloak concealed figure-hugging one-piece gold body armour and a long sharp sword in a jewelled sheath at his belt. The man's almost unnaturally bright green eyes were fixed on an elaborate bracelet on his left wrist. It made a chirping sound and he gave a grunt of satisfaction. He looked around him for the first time, then up at the sun burning bright above him. He took a deep, approving breath.
"Hot," he murmured. "Good. Just like home..." He noticed the tiny rabbit quivering nearby and bent down, placing his hands on his knees, holding its gaze with his own. "Boo!" he snapped suddenly, and the creature bolted. He straightened up and chuckled to himself, before setting off down the road, tugging a small palm-sized device from the belt beneath his cloak and studied it as he strode down the road. Not far now. And not long before she arrived.
Everything was according to plan.
***
He was mildly put out to find he wasn't going to be alone when he reached the crossroads. An old man with a long, wispy white beard wearing a shabby brown cloak was perched on a boulder overlooking the road, wrinkled brown face turned to the glowing sphere in the sky as if sunning himself. The warrior studied him carefully, gauging him warily. He didn't appear to be armed, unless you counted the long gnarled wooden staff the old man probably used as a walking aid. And a quick scan with the detector built into his helmet showed that he had nothing concealed beneath his cloak. He was no threat, but all the same the warrior didn't like to have witnesses.
That could soon be remedied. He approached the old man quietly, hand dropping to his sword hilt.
"Good afternoon, young fellow. I trust you mean no harm with that fearsome weapon of yours?"
He spoke without opening his eyes or even inclining his head towards the warriors' direction. His voice was deep and mellow and pleasant. The warrior halted, considering his reply.
"Why no, sir. I am merely being cautious. One meets so many rogues and villains on the highways these days, that one has to be careful." The warrior struggled to stick to the language of this time and planet. It wasn't easy. He felt foolish enough wearing this armour, without having to talk like some two-bit viddy-star.
The old man chuckled laconically. "Indeed there are, sir. Indeed there are!" He opened his eyes and turned his head to look the warrior up and down. "Though I would venture to say that there are few rogues and villains who would contemplate interfering with a fine figure like yourself. Very formidable, sir. Very formidable!"
"Thank you," replied the warrior with a measure of suspicion. "Are you not troubled at the thought of travelling alone? These are dangerous times..."
"Indeed they are, sir. Indeed they are!" he repeated, laughing. "No, an old man like myself is not worth the trouble, especially in this heat. The common footpad is usually a desperate man, but there are few so desperate as to regard me as a suitable target!"
"Perhaps," said the warrior, coming over and standing by the boulder. The old man was right. He wasn't a threat to anyone. A nuisance, certainly. "Where are you bound for?" And when are you clearing off, he didn't ask.
The old man gestured up the road. "Oh, the little village the other side of the hills up there. I'm just resting my tired feet for a spell. And you? You look like you are bound for a war somewhere! You're too late for Troy, I'm afraid. They burnt that down some seven years before!" he cackled.
"I am here to..." he paused for thought, "fulfil a mission."
The old man looked disappointed, slightly. "Oh. Pity. Must be a very difficult mission, judging from your arms and armour."
The warrior shook his head. "I do not expect it to be."
"But it's better to be prepared, heh? Just in case?"
"Quite," replied the warrior. He wished the old fool would shut up. Or he'd shut him up - for good.
"Yes, I know what it's like... I used to be something of a warrior myself. A long time ago, of course!"
"Of course." A single blow to the neck would do it.
"Hardest game in the world, soldiering. I was in the guard, man and boy, for... oooh, well, longer than I can remember."
"Oh yes?" Maybe the sword instead. Just to get his eye in. Take the head off in one swing.
The old man chuckled, reminiscing. "I remember my first commander, a pig of man. Name of Maxil. Hard man. But fair, in his own peculiar way. Those were the days..." His face saddened. "Of course, it went horribly wrong in the end. A little too much good living, you pick up expensive tastes... got to pay for 'em somehow, so people start paying you to look the other way... among other things." He shrugged. "Then you get caught, tried, exiled..." He sighed deeply. "Ah well. We all pay for our mistakes in the end, I suppose. And of course," he added brightly, "there's always the slight chance that redemption might drop something in your lap. Eh?"
"Quite." Maybe he'd just take that stick of his and -
His bracelet suddenly chimed. The target was approaching!
"What was that?" the old man asked curiously.
"Nothing." The warrior scanned the road. There, less that half a mile away, and closing.
"Something made a funny noise. Did you hear a funny noise?"
"No." He'd have no time to kill him and hide the body now. Perhaps afterwards. He could join the rest.
"Maybe it was in my head, then." He chuckled. "In this heat, you hear a lot of funny things. See a lot of funny things too."
"Really." Infrared revealed four life signs. The target, the driver, and two guards? Pity. Lavarre's briefing notes said there'd only be one, plus the driver. Typical of the man to underestimate the odds! One of these days...
"Mirages," said the old man.
"What?" He really did wish the old man would shut up now.
"Mirages. You know, seeing funny things that aren't there. Hallucinations, that sort of thing."
"Quite. Listen, would you mind...?" He could see the wagon unaided in the distance now, rattling down the road towards them in a cloud of dust. He could hear the sound of the horses' hooves on the ground as well. Closer, closer...
"Oh, sorry. Don't mean to prattle on. You expecting someone in that carriage then?"
"What?" He darted a glimpse at the old man, who was gazing mildly at the approaching dust-cloud. He didn't think the old boys' eyes would be sharp enough. Maybe it was only his mind that was feeble. "Er, yes. I suppose I am."
The old man brightened. "Perhaps they could give me a lift. I'm getting on a bit, not quite so good at moving around by meself these days. Arthritis, rheumatism... touch of gout. Not to mention galloping knee-rot."
You won't be moving around at all after I've finished with you, the warrior thought grimly. "Who knows," he muttered though clenched teeth.
"I wonder who it is? Never know who you're going to meet on the road these days."
"No."
"Kings, Queens, royalty... beggars, thieves..."
"Yes, yes." He could see the wagon clearly, heard the cry of the driver as he spurred the horses on. The warrior tensed...
"Warriors... assassins."
The old man's voice suddenly developed a harder edge and the warrior turned his head to look at him, danger instinct flaring suddenly.
But before his head even turned half way something hard slammed into the back of it and he blacked out...
***
"How strange..."
The young brown-haired woman peered through the flap of the canvas covering the little wagon at the odd pair sitting by the roadside. An old man with a long white beard and a tall muscular warrior wearing shiny golden armour. The warrior's head was on his chest, as if he was fast asleep. The old man had one arm around his shoulder, and with the other one raised a wineskin in salute as they passed. The young woman grinned and waved back as they receded into the distance. She turned to the person beside her, another young woman with long blonde hair.
"A funny place to stop for a picnic, don't you think?"
"Very," the blonde girl replied, raising an eyebrow at the sight. So it happened again...
"That soldier looked like he was fast asleep. You don't suppose he was in any trouble, do you?"
"He will be when he gets back. If he gets back," the girl muttered to herself. She had a strange feeling she'd never see Myshka again, if that old guy was who she thought he was. No great loss. At least it had saved her a job. She stretched tiredly. After this, she'd take a breather. Gather her strength. She had a feeling she was going to need it.
But the other woman barely heard her over the noise of their travel, and she was still looking behind her anyway. "I'd stop to pick them up as well, but having stopped for you..." She also noticed the disapproving glare of the soldier sitting opposite them. He hadn't liked stopping for the girl, so goodness knows what his reaction would have been had she asked to stop for them as well. The bodyguard her husband Troilus had provided her with was very keen on her well-being. One of the penalties of being who she was and who she was married to, she supposed. Being a Trojan - or at least ex-Trojan - noblewoman had its advantages, but it also had its minuses.
"Better safe than sorry," the girl said. "You never know who you're going to meet. Or what."
The young woman laughed. "We met you!"
"Yes," the girl smiled. "And I'm very glad you did. But I'm not threat, am I?" she asked innocently.
The woman shot a look at the soldier. "Of course not! What did you say your name was?"
"Lucylla. And you're..."
The young woman smiled. "Cressida."
"The Lady Cressida," corrected the guard politely. Cressida shot him a dirty look.
Lucylla smiled slowly. "Cressida, yes... but it wasn't always Cressida, was it... Vicki?"
Cressida/Vicki's eyes widened in surprise. "What? How do you-"
A bright flash suddenly filled the wagon. The guard yelled, and the driver pulled the horses up, bringing the wagon to a sudden dusty halt.
The guard rubbed his eyes to clear his sight. When it did, he gasped in horror.
The Lady Cressida and the girl had vanished.
***
Back down the road, the old man watched the wagon disappear from sight then took another mouthful from the wineskin and sat back with a contented sigh. He patted the warrior on top of the helmet and grinned.
"This'll cheer old Malachi up. Alive, too... well, well. Standards must be slipping!"
He raised the wineskin to the sky in salute. "Cheers, Doctor - wherever you are. You said you'd get me back into their favour, and if this doesn't do it..."
He took one last mouthful, then sealed the skin up and tucked it inside his cloak for later on. Then he touched a control on the bracelet on his wrist, and the pair of them shimmered and disappeared.
High up above, the bird of prey cried out again, the lonely sound lingering in the warm air as the stillness returned to the landscape.
Next: Guardian Angel
