The Lost War Karl Gallagher (red white and royal blue hardcover .txt) 📖

way through the woods. They didn’t go the way Newman wanted to but some were close enough to be worth using for a mile or so.

After cutting through some dense woods Newman led his squad out into another rhino trail. They stumbled into the opening with exclamations of relief. He waved to gather them together.

“I know you don’t like being assigned as bearers instead of hunters. We’re going to take a moment to cover why. Who walks quietest among you?”

The shortest Wolfhead—Husky, if Newman had their names right—raised his hand. “I’m stealthy.”

“Okay. See that bramble patch? I want you to walk there and back, quietly as you can. The rest of us will close our eyes and listen.” Newman turned his back to the brambles.

Husky wasn’t bad for a city boy. Didn’t break any branches. Could put his feet on dirt without making a sound. No gear jingling. But that still left a lot of swishing, rustling, and rattling. Newman had no trouble picking up when he turned around at the brambles.

As Husky came closer to the group of hunters he slowed even more to be as quiet as possible. Newman fought down the temptation to turn around and leap at the guy to drive home how noisy he was being.

“I’m back,” said Husky.

Newman opened his eyes and turned around. “Okay, good effort. Now it’s my turn. Everyone close your eyes again.”

Part of Husky’s problem was that he’d taken a straight-line path to the brambles. Newman’s was more evasive. He looked ahead to make sure he wouldn’t find himself forced to step in a drift of leaves or push through brittle branches.

He still reached the brambles in half the time Husky had. “Okay, take a look,” he called. Everyone turned around to see him there. Newman didn’t want anyone claiming he hadn’t gone the whole distance. “Close your eyes again.”

When they’d all turned their backs he started moving. Following the same path he’d used before let him move faster. He stopped arm’s reach from Borzhoi. “That’s how you do it.” Louder than necessary.

Borzhoi didn’t jump but half the other Wolfheads did.

“Anyone notice a difference?” asked Newman.

Husky said, “You were quieter.” He didn’t sound resentful, good.

“That’s right. And the deer hear better than you do. One bad step and they’ll run. We need to sneak up on them. When you can do that you’ll be a hunter. Until then you’re a bearer. Let’s go.”

***

Constable quickly closed the tent flap behind him as he entered Lady Burnout’s pavilion. Rain dripped from his cloak onto the rug.

“Wish I could offer you some tea,” said Burnout. It wasn’t much warmer in her pavilion than outside and Constable looked cold.

“I’m fine. I was at Sharpquill’s and he has a fire going.” Constable said that with a sarcastic lilt. Few people in camp received a large enough wood ration to use it for heating as well as cooking. They were all in the Royal Court or among its favorites.

“Hmph. So what’s the news?”

“No trouble for Sparrow over zapping the guards. The witnesses agree they had it coming.”

Lady Burnout sighed in relief. “Good. Are those two being kicked off the Royal Guard?”

“No. Queen Camellia likes them too much. Sharpquill was surprised I even asked.”

That drew a rude noise from his hostess.

Constable continued, “Sparrow is being put to work. Lots of gadgets need to be charged. That makes him part of the Autocrat’s staff.”

“Good. That’s probably as safe as the boy can be.”

“Sharpquill wants us to figure out what’s going on with the magic.”

Burnout threw her hands in the air. “How the hell should I know? Nothing makes sense here.”

“We have some data. Let’s see what we can make of it.” Constable hung his cloak from a hook then sat in a wicker chair.

Burnout pulled a folding chair around to face him. “What data? Some mysterious force yanked us here. Now random people have random powers.”

“I don’t think it’s random. All three were panicking over something and now they can do magic for whatever scared them. Marjoram was up a tree taking eggs out of a nest. The parents started clawing her, she nearly lost her grip and fell. Now she can control birds.”

Constable ticked the examples off on his fingers.

“Redinkle was failing at firemaking. She got upset. Maybe that was more angry than scared, but anger usually has fear under it. Her power is starting fires.”

Third finger. “Now there’s Sparrow. Two big guys threaten to beat the crap out of him. Bam. He’s taser-boy.”

Burnout interjected, “Doesn’t explain how he could charge his iPod.”

“Well . . . he’s into his tunes. We’re all under stress. If the music stopped at a bad time he could have panicked.”

She considered. “That fits. But it’s reaching.”

“We have a hypothesis we can test. Strong emotion lets people tap into magical abilities. Whenever new powers pop up we ask them how it happened.”

“How does Belladonna fit into this?”

Constable thought for a moment. “I don’t think she does. She cast her spell back on Earth. All the witnesses I’ve talked to say she was perfectly calm.”

“The description Elderberry gave me agrees. Have you gotten anything from Belladonna herself?”

He shook his head. “She won’t talk to me. Have you tried?”

“I’ve tried. But she just turned and walked away. I want to give her a follow-up exam but she won’t have it. I’d think with everyone ignoring her she’d be desperate for someone to talk to.”

The retired cop shrugged. “Some people break in solitary. Others like the peace.”

A thoughtful minute went by.

Burnout broke the silence. “Here’s the problem with your hypothesis. Not enough magic users. We’re all stressed. Most of us are scared as hell. We’ve had three suicides. If panicking was enough to bring out magical ability half the