“We must recall them at once,” Azaleen said. “By the time they return, probably late tomorrow, we should have gathered more intelligence. We’ll need to deploy our balloons,” she said, meeting Stark’s deep-set eyes. “Motorcycles as well. Sabine, compose a letter to Lord Calder assuring him that we are exploringevery means to recover his son safely. I want open lines of communication between Highcrest Hall and the capital. Camille, draft a letter to General Garcia and another to President Irons regarding a prisoner exchange. It doesn’t hurt to ask. But I want contingencies. We need to know exactly where Garcia’s army is and where they’re holding Calder. It is imperative that we retrieve Roderic alive. If that becomes impossible, Lord Thorne Calder must know we’ve done everything possible.”
“I concur.” General Stark squared his shoulders, resolve on his weathered face. “I’ll get a balloon and motorcycle patrols headed south to find the recovery team and send more west to get a fix on the Iron Army’s whereabouts.”
“I’ll get on those letters,” added Camille.
“And I’ll have a pigeon sent with a note for Lord Calder within the hour,” confirmed Sabine.
“Let’s plan to reconvene with the rest of the cabinet in …” Azaleen glanced at the clock. “Twelve hours, at 4:00 p.m. We should know more by then. Meeting adjourned.”
The others hastened to perform their assigned tasks, leaving Azaleen alone with her thoughts.This is the last thing we needed—another complication.
Lark took up her position behind a thick pine at the edge of the woods, a sea of high grass rippling across the meadow, sweet and sun-warmed. She notched an arrow in her longbow and aimed at the whitetail deer. Lark preferred her familiar longbow to the multi-fire crossbow the team had equipped her with for fighting. Better range. Quieter. More honest in her hands. Lark had always hunted for survival, and, right now, they were hungry.
She settled her aim and loosed the arrow, the bowstring thrumming against her fingers. It flew true, striking the buck in the chest. Three does and two fawnsdashed from the meadow into the trees, leaving the staggering buck behind. She was moving before he fell.
Diego jogged behind her. “I don’t know why you didn’t let me shoot it with my rifle,” he complained.
Tossing back over her shoulder, Lark called, “And make all that noise? What if Republic Marines are patrolling nearby? But I’ll let you help me carry it back to camp.”
“Oh, thanks,” Diego huffed, rolling his eyes.
When they reached the deer, Lark retrieved her unbroken arrow and replaced it in her quiver. “Can you get the head end?” she asked Diego.
He met her question with an offended look.
“Well, you’re always going on about how you’re the strongest member of the team. Let’s see some of that muscle in action.”
Laughing, Diego flexed his biceps. “True.”
Something in the sky snagged Lark’s attention, dark against a cloud. Laughter disappeared in a flash, and she dropped into a crouch in the tall grass. Staring up, she pointed. “Balloon.”
Diego took cover as well, peering up, the bill of his cap shading his eyes from the overhead sun. “But whose?”
They remained still, waiting for the balloon to get closer. If it were theirs, it might be looking for them. Skye sent a message about Fort Jasper, but Nelanta couldn’t reply by pigeon. Since then, they’d avoided detection by the Republic and warned the villages in the area. They were heading to Troy, a mid-sized town in the south, as it was on the way to Fort Hammond, but General Stark wouldn’t know their exact location. However, if it were an enemy balloon, they didn’t wish to be spotted.
As it neared, Lark made out the green and gold silk and the “V” painted on the bottom of the basket. “It’s ours!”
They both jumped up and waved their arms, dancing across the field to signal the balloon. As if from nowhere, Luke zoomed across the clearing, his motorbike sputtering and kicking up dust. Skye, Wes, and Harlan emergedfrom the forest, holding up the corners of a Verdancian flag. Slowly, the balloon descended until it came to rest a hundred meters away.
Lark was reluctant to leave her dinner in case wild animals carried it off, but clearly, if a balloon came looking for them, it brought important news. By the time she and Diego arrived, Luke was already talking to a lieutenant from Nelanta.
“OK, we’ll leave immediately,” he told the dark-skinned lieutenant.
“I’d say just hop in,” the man answered, “but we can’t spare your vehicles. Make it fast.”
“We’ve got a few good roads heading north,” Luke said. “If we don’t run into trouble, we should be there by tomorrow morning.”
“We can take turns driving the jeep,” Wes suggested, “but you fellas’ll be like zombies on the bikes.”
“Mount them on the back of the jeep,” Harlan said, “and we’ll all squeeze in.”
“Good thinking,” Skye agreed. “Let’s strike camp.”
“Wait,” Lark said, curious about the sudden recall. She looked at the balloon lieutenant. “What happened?”
Luke answered instead. “General Calder’s been captured. We have to rescue him.”
Chapter eighteen