The Codex

60

Tom rose from his hammock at 1:00 A.M. The night was black. Clouds had blotted out the stars and a restless wind rustled and mumbled through the trees. The only light came from the ruddy heap of embers in the fire ring, casting a reddish glow on the faces of the ten Tara warriors. They were still sitting in a circle around the fire, not having moved or spoken all night.

Before waking the others Tom collected the binoculars and stepped out of the trees to take one more look at the White City. The lights were still on at the suspension bridge, the soldiers in their ruined fort. Tom thought of what lay ahead. Perhaps Philip was right and it was suicide. Perhaps Maxwell Broadbent was dead in his tomb and they were risking their lives for nothing. All that was beside the point: He had to do it.

Tom went to wake the others only to find most of them up. Borabay unbanked the fire, piled in fresh sticks, and put a pot on to boil. Sally joined them soon afterward and began checking her Springfield by the light of the fire. Her faced looked drawn, tired. “You remember what General Patton said was always the first casualty of a battle?” she asked Tom.

“No.”

“The battle plan.”

“So you don’t think our plan is going to work?” Tom asked.

She shook her head. “Probably not.” She looked away, then back down at the rifle, giving it an unneeded polish with the cleaning rag.

“What do you think’s going to happen?”

She shook her head wordlessly, sending waves through her heavy gold hair. Tom realized she was very upset. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “We have to do this, Sally.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Vernon joined them at the fire, and the four of them drank their tea in silence. When the tea was gone, Tom glanced at his watch. Two o’clock. He looked around for Philip, but his brother had not even come out of the hut. He nodded to Borabay, and they all rose. Sally threw the gun over her shoulder, and they shouldered small palm-leaf backpacks containing a supply of food, water, matches, camp stove, and other essentials. They set off single file, Borabay in the lead, the warriors bringing up the rear, moving down through the grove of trees and out into the open.

Ten minutes down from the camp, Tom heard the sound of running from behind, and they all stopped and listened, the warriors with their arrows nocked and drawn. In a moment Philip appeared, breathing hard.

“Here to wish us luck?” Vernon asked, an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

Philip took a moment to catch his breath. “I don’t know why I would even think of joining this harebrained scheme. But damn it, I’m not going to let you go off to your deaths alone.”