Free The Rogue Retrieval by Dan Koboldt Page B

swordplay or knife-­fighting—­often literally. Sometimes Chaudri would take a break from her reading to join in. For a self-­proclaimed academic, the woman certainly knew how to swing a broadsword. She and Logan would spar with Quinn in a three-­sided melee, an exercise that usually meant welts and bruises on two sides instead of one.
    â€œYou’re getting a little better,” Logan told him, after their fourth night of sword practice. “Might take an Alissian teenager to skewer you now.”
    â€œAs a general rule, I try to avoid teenagers.”
    â€œIt’s the girls you’ve got to watch out for.”
    Quinn chuckled. “You say that like you know. You have daughters?”
    Logan sighed. “Four of them. No boys.”
    â€œWow.”
    â€œYeah, wow. The oldest just turned fourteen.”
    â€œOoh.” Quinn made a pained expression. “How do you survive?”
    â€œMostly by staying in the basement. And invading other worlds.”
    The thought of this battle-­hardened soldier hiding out in the basement from his wife and daughters made Quinn smile. “I didn’t realize you were such a family man.”
    â€œThat’s the first thing they teach you in basic. If you have a girlfriend, marry her. If you have a wife, start a family.”
    So he is ex-­military. “How’d you end up doing this?”
    â€œThat’s classified.”
    Of course it was .
    K iara kept trying to raise someone on her long-­range transponder. It might reach the gateway cave, if the lockdown protocol was lifted and a receiver unit came through. None of her transmissions brought a reply, though. No one talked about it, but Quinn could tell that the lack of communication had her concerned. As did the clouds in the distance.
    The storm hit about four days later. The barometric pressure—­updated hourly on the communicator Kiara had strapped to her wrist—­had been falling for almost a day. It was early afternoon when the first storm clouds began to gather. Logan began making little forays ahead of the group to search for shelter.
    â€œGot a clump of evergreens close to the road, about a half mile ahead,” he said.
    Kiara glanced at the wall of dark sky that loomed toward them out of the west. “Can we make it before the storm hits?”
    â€œIf we ride hard.”
    The horses were tired, but Quinn had no trouble spurring his mare to a gallop. She seemed to sense the urgency of the situation. The mountain pony tossed his head a ­couple of times but eventually followed suit. They plunged along the hard-­packed dirt road behind Logan and Kiara in a growing shroud of twilight.
    Logan raised an arm to signal and they broke east toward a dark patch of forest. Then the hardwoods gave way to blue and green conifers. Their branches were already draped in snow. The ground was clear except for a thick layer of fallen needles.
    Quinn tried to ask where they planned to put up the tents but took a branch to the face instead. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes to find them reining in at a small natural clearing. By then the wind had become a steady roar.
    â€œSecure the horses!” Logan shouted.
    Quinn half fell to the ground, but he managed to keep hold of all the reins. He looked around for a good trunk or branch to tie off to, but the snow-­covered conifers had nothing to offer. Chaudri rummaged in one of the saddlebags, came up with a handful of metal spikes and a claw hammer. She drove enough spikes into the ground to get the reins secured. The mounts were snorting, showing the whites in their eyes. A primal fear of what was coming had them in its grip. Quinn and Chaudri struggled with hobbles for the horses’ feet so they wouldn’t bolt in the storm.
    Meanwhile, Logan and Kiara had assembled a series of telescoping metallic rods about seven feet long. They drove these into the earth at regular intervals around the small