by DJ Cooper
Ecker
The shrill sound shattered the hot air when he heard Zyla’s scream echoing through the woods. Terror gripped him and he launched himself into a full run. The roamers had found her. His muscles screamed as he pushed them to make him go faster. The sound of her screams shattered the forest around him. His heart leaped into his throat as fury pulsed in his veins. Horror filled him at the sight when he burst through the bushes alongside the river and saw the two men. One was at her head, pinning her arms to the ground while the other was holding her legs and struggling against her kicks. Both had maniacal grins on their faces. A quick glance around found Creed, lying on the ground, a pool of blood seeping into the sand under his head.
“Hold her still!” the dark-haired man growled and slapped her as he tried to crawl on top of her.
The other man snickered and grunted fumbling with her hands. “I’m trying but she’s as slippery as a greased hog.”
Without a thought, a savage roar of cold fury enveloped him and Ecker threw himself at the man that pinned Zyla’s arms. A quick twist of his wrist and he grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair, yanked his head back, and plunged his crude stone blade into the man’s throat. Blood sprayed across Zyla’s face and arms, startling the man atop her. The man fell to the ground beside her, clutching at his throat, gasping and choking. His eyes swiftly faded as he stared into hers.
Ecker rolled and came up on top of the second man before he could respond and drove his blade deep into the man’s kidney area, stabbing him over and over with the final stab twisting deep into his body. The man’s eyes widened in surprise as death crept upon him. It was over in a matter of seconds. Except for the dying, that took a moment or two longer.
Ecker stepped over the two dead bodies and grabbed Zyla’s clothes from the ground, his breath ragged, as adrenaline coursed through his body. He heard soft sobs coming from her as she crawled on her hands and knees to where Creed lay at the water’s edge. He handed her clothes to her.
“You need to get dressed,” he said, bending down beside her, panting breathlessly.
Zyla nodded, splashed water on her face and arms to wash away the blood, and swiftly pulled her dirty clothes over her wet body.
“You helped us?” she replied, her eyes still glazed with shock as she pulled her shirt down.
Ecker nodded, his face flushing with heat. He watched intently, not really knowing what to do as she gently moved Creed’s head. She cursed while examining the large swollen knot on the back of it and the inch-long gash in his scalp. She swore softly under her breath and grabbed a handful of moss from the ground and held it out to Ecker.
“Please, help me?” She begged. “Can you wet this?”
He grabbed it from her and plunged it into the water and handed the dripping, soggy moss to her. She grabbed it and pressed it firmly against his injury.
“This will help,” she said without looking up.
Ecker watched her movements with interest. He’d have to remember how she tended to Creed’s wound.
“I’m gonna leave now,” he muttered, standing up, wanting to get the hell out of there before he woke up.
“No, don’t go!” Zyla gasped, turning her eyes to his, desperation and fear rippling through her. “Stay, please,” she begged. She glanced at the two dead men on the ground and shivered.
“Okay, for a little while, but I want to be gone before he wakes up,” Ecker replied, nodding toward Creed and remembering his threat.
An expression of relief crossed Zyla’s face. “He won’t hurt you,” she smiled sadly….
“Yeah, you might not think so but I ain’t so sure about that,” Ecker grimaced.
He rose and turned, walking toward the two dead men. “First thing’s first,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll get rid of these.”
His hand shook and she saw it when he bent down and grabbed the dark-haired one by his shoulders. He dragged them off into the woods. Sweat poured down his back when he returned.
“No sense in having their bodies rotting so close to the river. The animals will make quick work of them.” He moved closer and looked intently, but also fearfully at Creed. “Is he gonna be okay?”
Zyla grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, he will. Though I suspect he’ll have one hell of a headache for a few days.” Sighing, she sat back on her heels and looked up at Ecker. “Can you help me move him to his sleeping mat?”
Ecker nodded to her, bent down, and reached under his arms. He helped Zyla gently lift Creed and move him to where Creed had already started to set up camp a few yards away. They laid him down and Ecker stood gazing around. He noted the beginnings of a fire pit Creed had started before the attack. Moving to it, he laid out the sticks and twigs teepee style, shoving some small dried grass and leaves in the center.
“You have a match?” he asked.
Zyla tossed him a small metal box with small pieces of char-cloth, tiny bits of tinder, and some matches made from pine sticks and sulfur and turned back to finish bandaging Creed's wound.
“I’ll get this fire started then be on my way,” he said as he sparked the match and set the flame against the tinder.
“Did you find the meat I left you this morning?” Zyla asked casually over her shoulder, making small talk, not wanting him to leave.
Ecker grinned and nodded. “Yes, thank you,” he said then looked to the ground and shuffled his feet. “Although I’m not sure why you’ve been so kind, I am very grateful.”
“As am I,” she smiled at him.
Their conversation felt stifled and forced. Both uncomfortable. He knew she didn’t quite trust him and he couldn’t blame her. He had also attacked her after all, although he regretted that tremendously. He was nervous about what Creed would do when he woke up and saw him at their camp. The last time they’d talked, Creed had been resolute when he warned him that he was to never show his face again. Ecker feared that if he discovered that he was following them, then he might follow through on his threat to kill him.
“You’re safe now, I won’t be very far away,” he said, giving her a look of reassurance. He smiled slightly and turned disappearing into the woods. He would like nothing more than to join the two of them, to travel alongside them, but he was also afraid of Creed. That man had a violence lurking behind his eyes that was clearly recognizable.
“Okay, thank you, Ecker,” Zyla sighed. She wished he would stay, at least until Creed woke, but understood why he didn’t want to. Creed did make it extremely clear he was not welcome the first time they’d met.
Chapter Four
Grandfather stood leaning against a large boulder. He was winded and used the back of his hand to wipe a film of sweat from his face. He gazed out over the flat, high grassed terrain of the valley at the base of the mountain pass they would soon be upon, his eyes drinking in the beauty. It affected him so much that it just about took his breath away. Above him the sky loomed deep blue, the wash of colors overwhelmed his senses. He felt good. Better than he had in the past few days. He could feel his heart pumping strong and steady, a slight thud in his chest with every beat. He felt alive. He sat and watched as the group set up camp. The young ones gathered rocks to make pits for their cooking fires. Mothers pulled bundles of grass to use as padding under their sleeping blankets. The air was filled with the sound of children’s laughter and the buzz of conversation as everyone set to their tasks. He smiled.
“We’ve got Lilla’s ankle set, Grandfather,” Millicent announced as she moved up beside him and handed him a cup of water with his Hawthorn tincture in it.
He nodded. He felt bad for Lilla. She had been chasing one of the toddlers earlier on the trail and twisted her ankle in a badger hole. “Good, hopefully by breaking for camp early, it’ll give a chance for the swelling to go down,” he murmured in reply and sipped his tincture.
“Dinner will be ready soon, do you need anything?” Millicent asked.
He smiled at her warmly and shook his head. “No, I’m good. I just
need to get my bedroll ready,” he replied.
There wasn’t much for him to do. The women in the group took care of the cooking, setting up the sleeping areas, hauling water, and getting the fires going. Pulling the tattered map from his pocket, he sat on the ground and spread it out across a patch of grass. He traced his finger along the trail they were following. This was once called Colorado, a wild expanse of mountain ranges, deep valleys, and crystal clear rivers. A beautiful reminder of what the country used to be before the war touched it.
He let out a tired sigh, leaned back against the boulder, and closed his eyes. The bright sun created sparkles behind his eyelids as he drifted into a relaxed peacefulness. Over the past several days he had pushed the group hard. They had fought the heat and rain. The hordes of biting black flies had been their constant companions, and everyone was tired, but no one complained, not even the children.
He thought of the miles they had come, and they were many. The miles they had yet to cover were numerous as well, and they would be harder. A wave of homesickness washed over him as his mind wandered back to their village and his little cottage which was nestled in close to the hillside. He cringed deep inside, remembering his home of more than thirty years. He knew this day would someday come, and now he was bringing them to a new home... one that was unfamiliar and strange, but far from the guards that terrorized the city. Now that Kael and Zyla were free from there it was time to move on. It broke his heart to leave his home and the memories of his only love. She’d been gone a long while and his daughter as well. He opened his eyes, sighed, and pushed up from the ground. He recalled seeing a cluster of birds’ nests a little way back up the trail. Perhaps there would be eggs. That could be a treat for everyone. He set off, a slight bounce in his step, waving to Lilla sitting against a tree with her leg propped up on a log.
“Where are you going, Grandfather?” she shouted as he passed by her.
“Just for a stroll,” he replied with a secretive smile on his lips. He laughed when he saw her expression of consternation.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, don’t worry woman. I’ll be back shortly,” he grumbled.
He shook his head, rolled his eyes, and snorted. It irritated him that all the women of the group somehow found it necessary to appoint themselves as his keeper. It was a feeling that at once made him feel loved, but also irritated the hell outta him. He was a grown man, capable of hunting, casting a line, and being helpful to others. He was not some doddering old fool. He didn’t need a keeper but did need some quiet time away from the group. He needed time where he could hear his own thoughts.
He moved along easily, his breath light. Perhaps it was the mountain air that made him feel so good, or perhaps his heart had decided to behave for a while. Either way, he was thankful. At the moment, his body felt good. Spying the tree he’d seen one of the nests in, he stopped before it and craned his neck up to peer at the branches. The nest didn’t appear to be too high, an easy climb. His bones creaked a bit as he reached for the low branch, wrapped his fingers around it, and used his legs to push himself up. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, tickling him as it traveled beneath his shirt. He climbed one branch at a time until he found himself peering into the nest where he saw four speckled blue eggs. Reaching in gently, he collected two of them and put them in the cloth satchel slung on his shoulder. He wouldn’t rob the bird of all her eggs, that wouldn’t be right. Gingerly he climbed down from the tree and went in search of another nest.
He was happily tired as he made his way back to the camp and was quite impressed with himself. He hadn’t climbed a tree in more years than he could count. He’d collected almost a dozen eggs. Although his leg muscles burned, it was a good burn and well worth it and it made him feel good. With a spring in his step, he walked along, whistling lightly until a loud crashing sound made him stop. His head twisted to the left and he froze when he saw a large black bear, parting the bushes ambling toward him. Fear formed a lump in his throat, and he dared not even take a breath. His only weapon was still back at camp, he chided himself for being so stupid. He watched the bear as it came closer, making a soft grunting and chuffing sound, its head bobbing and swinging. He could smell its rancid odor when it swiped at a bush and lurched toward him only to stop short and snort.
In hopes that the bear was bluffing he rose up on his toes and lifted his shoulders to make himself appear larger. He knew one swipe of the bear’s massive paw could send him flying and fear washed over him as the bear stopped only a few feet short of him and glared at him, growling. He struggled against the panic screaming in his mind urging him to run but resisted knowing running would be the worst mistake he could make.
From the left, out of the blue, an arrow flew through the air and landed in the dirt at his feet. It startled the bear and it roared and rose on its hind legs. This, he could not bluff. Grandfather took a step backward and dove for the bushes just as the bear charged him. Another arrow came whizzing past him and struck the roaring animal, sinking deep into its chest. He watched it fall to the ground, chest heaving with gusty breaths, finally succumbing to death.
Grandfather untangled himself from the bushes and glanced up to see Millicent walking toward him.
“Grandfather? Are you okay?” she asked.
Stunned, he nodded. “Were you following me?” he snapped.
Her face blushed pink. She shook her head and averted her eyes from his, a clear indication that she was lying. “No, I was just out here hunting, and….” She paused and looked at the bear. “And I’ve been tracking that bear for miles. We needed more meat,” she lied.
Grandfather could see right through her and he didn’t know if he should be mad or thankful. He peered at her, feeling a little foolish before turning and searching the brush for his satchel. She would be bringing back bear meat to the group, while he’d be bringing back a few lousy eggs. He dusted himself off and shook his head, threw his satchel over his shoulder, and walked away. He knew he was acting grumpy, but damn it, he didn’t like the feeling that he was being babysat by the women in this group. It stung his pride.
Sounds behind him caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder. Millicent bent down to begin harvesting the bear. He turned back to her, sighed, placed his satchel on the dirt, and bent down to help her.
She glanced up at him and grinned. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. I lied. I was following you,” she said softly.
He looked at her and grinned, shrugging off his wounded pride. “Then I’d best be saying ‘thank you,’” he said, then pointed at the dead bear, “otherwise I might have been his meal tonight instead of him being mine,” he chuckled.
Chapter Five
Captain Vincent, Vinnie, as his men addressed him, pulled the bandana from his pocket, and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. They’d gotten their asses kicked by the villagers, but he couldn’t let that stop him. If they went back to the garrison now, his life and career would be over. The General, if he got wind of how he had run from the battle with the villagers, would string him up as a coward.
His thoughts shifted to the escapee, Kael. There had to be something that made this man so special that the General would send out an entire platoon after him. It boggled Vincent’s mind. No one was worth this much misery. He wondered what it was... and if he could profit by it. He turned and grimaced when Johan walked up beside him. The look in the subordinate soldier’s eyes told Vincent everything he needed to know. The soldier had witnessed his panic during the battle, his fear and cowardice, and now refused to respect him.
They were solid on the trail, heading deep into the southern part of the mountains. His tracker reported two people. Kael, he was sure, was one of them. But who his companion was, remained a mystery. The possibilities mounted, a person from that village or another traitor could be with him. His lips twisted with derision. No matter, he would make them both pay; Kael and whoever was with him. He narrowed his eyes in anger. He hated being stuck out here and they would both pay f
or his discomfort. The General wanted Kael brought back alive. In fact, he insisted on it, but that didn’t mean Vincent couldn’t punish him for causing him all this misery. His hands shook with the need for violence and he curled his fingers into fists.
“We’re going to take a break,” Johan said, his voice filled with sarcasm. Vincent noticed he also didn’t ask. He was informing him. Not looking for permission. Nor did he address him as sir.
Vincent felt his face heat with anger and a need to assert his rank. “We’ll take a break when I say we will,” he growled, “furthermore Johan, you will address me with my given and earned status, do I make myself clear?”
Johan’s face blanched of color and his lips twisted with contempt. “Yes sir! First Rank Vincent, sir,” he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain.
Vincent glared at the soldier until the other man turned his eyes away. The challenge succeeded. It was a start. He wondered how many others had seen him balk during the battle. No one dared yet, to mention his cowardice... at least not to him. But he was sure those who had witnessed it were talking amongst themselves. His eyes darted across the faces of the men, each pair of eyes accusing him, laughing at him. He was still in control and he’d take care of any who would double cross him. The General would believe him before the lower-ranking soldiers. He’d say they were mutinous, that it was a coup because he pushed them hard to find Kael.
A sly grin, barely perceptible crossed his lips. He looked briefly at Johan and announced, “Another mile or two then we can break for lunch and rest. We catch this traitor, and we will all be reassigned to the city for sure.”
Johan’s jaw fell slack and he began to speak. Vincent dismissed him, turning his back and walking off as though he were indifferent, but his mind seethed with anger toward the man. Vincent scowled bitterly. Johan had always been a troublemaker, the first one to push the edge on any order given.