“Raven,” he said, and nipped her on the chin. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

For some reason, that didn’t seem to make her as happy as he’d thought it would.

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Chapter Thirty-Nine

There had been much evidence over the years to suggest that Jotan had better eyesight than humans. Or at least, as much evidence as could be gathered without breaking the strict protocols prohibiting human medical experimentation. In any event, Tagen had plenty of first-hand experience to prove to himself that human vision was notably poorer than that of any Jotan, and his eyesight in particular was excellent.

So it came as no small surprise when it was Daria who bolted upright and gasped, “My God, it’s them!” before he had even seen the occupants of the oncoming vehicle.

That it was them was almost as astonishing. Sunrise was not far behind them, but he had by this time more than half-convinced himself that they had been passed unknowing in the night as they sat unspeaking in the fore of the groundcar. But no, the driver of the approaching car was clearly the same female E’Var had taken with him at the fair (the odds of there being two humans with purple and white-striped hair made that a certainty), and the face that gaped back at him in the brief instant that their eyes locked was indeed E’Var’s. He saw the prisoner shout and the oncoming car swerved suddenly even as it passed them before lunging on ahead even faster.

Daria was already turning the car out to follow them, the wheels flinging back a fountain of gravel and dust. “I don’t believe it, they really came,” she said, her expression simply thunderstruck. The car screamed as it struck the road, and then they were shoved forward in pursuit of the rapidly-diminishing vehicle.

“Yes,” he said, grimly smiling.

“Like you never had a doubt.” The groundcar’s engine was in full voice, a song of elation all its own, as if it too were eager to take the enemy down. “I don’t believe it,” Daria said again, shaking her head. “We’re actually going to get them!” Her eyes dipped down the console.

“So it would seem.”

“I don’t believe it!” Daria shouted. “We’re almost out of gas!”

“What?”

“We’re almost out—We’ve been idling the car all morning, we—we—” She shot him a single tight and baffled glance and said, “We have approximately ten miles to figure out how we’re going to get them to stop before our ass is stranded out here.”

They had less than that. Looking ahead, Tagen could see the trees beginning to thin and the hills rising. Soon, the mountains would open, and a mistake on that narrow stretch of road would mean a short, sharp ride and an explosive finish. Tagen bared his teeth and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to think. He could allow the prisoner to escape, he could ask the gods to strike down what was apparently their favored son, or he could fire a few rounds of superheated plasma at E’Var’s groundcar, melting through its hull and inner workings, thus halting it so that they, in close pursuit, could smash into it and kill all of them. Hm.

“Well?” Daria pressed.

“I have a plan.” The name of Pahnee was famed throughout the known universe with good planning.

“Thank God. What do I do?”

“Remove this window,” Tagen said, tapping the glass beside him.

Daria’s left hand flew from the guidance wheel to her door and the window hummed down to admit an angry jet of air. “Now what?” she asked anxiously.

Tagen leaned his head out and shouted, “Pull over!” in his most authoritative voice.

She stared at him.

He pulled his head back inside the vehicle. “Well, that did not work,” he said.

“No, it sure didn’t.” She brought his window back up, her chin thrust forward. One of her hands rose in an aimless bird-like flutter before slapping back down on the guidance wheel. “You know, this whole thing has been one nightmare after another!”

“You have no idea.”

“All right,” Daria said, and suddenly laughed. It was an unexpected thing, like sunshine rendered as sound, and completely free of hesitation or fear. She smiled broadly straight ahead out the console fore-window and said, “Hold on to Grendel.”

“What—” are you planning, was how that was meant to end, but it was superfluous. He was not a man of great insight, but he was a soldier, and the soldier in him knew instinctively exactly what she was planning. If there was time to argue or even to be alarmed, he might have indulged himself, but there was not. He reached into the cargo hold, hooked out the crouching cat, and hugged its struggling body securely to his chest. “I love you,” he said simply. “Aim true.”

As last words go, those were fine ones. Tagen watched, at peace, as the distance between their two vehicles was eaten under the fore-wheels of Daria’s car. E’Var seemed to shout something; his arm cut an arc through the air, harnessing himself in the last instant before impact.

Daria struck the rear left quarter of E’Var’s vehicle and yanked the guidance wheel hard to starboard as she did, not merely pushing at the enemy but slapping them violently from the road. It was an unimportant sound, neither a bang or a crash, but only a hand-clapping sort of bump followed at once by the shrieking of tires as both cars spun out. E’Var’s vehicle shot off at nearly a crosswise angle to the road. There came a resounding detonation as it smashed into a tree, but this was peripheral. Daria’s car twisted violently side to side and she fought with it for control, spinning over the roadtop in a shroud of tire-smoke until the moment came that Tagen had been waiting for. The right front tire, the same one that had split away earlier, caught the road’s edge and suddenly they were airborne.

The groundcar rose and flipped twice, producing a howl of bent air and a swirl of highway and sky all around them. The cat screamed but it was the only one. Tagen felt the churn of gravity in motion. He waited tensely and in silence either to live or die.

The tumble was cut short by a crunching collision with a number of bushes that caught and suspended them nose-down and not quite fully on one side. Gradually, thin branches snapped and bent and the vehicle settled. With a muted thump, the left side of the car evened out and there they were, the rear of the car slightly hoisted and the wheels spinning freely as the engines hummed, but more or less intact.

Tagen opened his arms and the cat sprang into the rear hold, all its long fur spiked out, leaving several rips in Tagen’s uniform as proof that it had struggled. He could hear Daria breathing, which was a relief; her eyes were wide and unblinking as death, and blood was steadily making its way down her cheek to drip onto her shirt.

“Speak if you hear me,” he said tersely. The shoulder of his gun-hand was aching. He tried to move it and could, but only through a haze of white-hot pain. He unharnessed himself with his clumsy left and reached out to her. “Daria, speak.”

“Arf,” she said, which was speech, even if it was nonsensical. She drew a single shuddering breath and craned her neck to look out the fore-window at the sky. “My God, we’re alive. What are the odds?”

“Slim.”

She panted out a laugh, and then suddenly, she jerked and stared around at him. “What are you still doing here? Go on!” She began to pull at her harness, grimacing with some hidden hurt. “Go on, go get him! Run!”

Her harness wasn’t opening. Tagen tried to help her, but she slapped at his hands.

“Leave me!” she said, sounding more exasperated than anything else. “I’m not going anywhere! Don’t let him get away!”

“Daria—”

She left off her battle with the harness lock to slide her hand around his neck. He let himself be pulled to her and he kissed the mouth that sought his so urgently, but she pushed him away with the taste of her still new on his lips and gave him a severe stare. “Go get him, soldier,” she said quietly.