A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One

by D. N. Woodward

  “You actually had the time and energy to go hunting this morning?” asked Leon.

  “I did.”

  Leon studied the man as he took a seat close by. Ferschall’s calloused hands and wrinkled brow told a story of a life lived hard. Lines crossed with scars in many places, but he was convinced that, for a silver headed old man, Ferschall could still go toe-to-toe with just about anyone he’d ever met, present company included.

  “Any idea how much farther we are from a town or a city?”

  Ferschall studied the fire for a long time before answering. “Many more days. I had hoped to move slowly. To catch a large caravan to the east. Now, perhaps we should reconsider, yes?”

  Leon rubbed his hands together over the fire, “So, what are the options?”

  “We move northwest and skirt those Anderle mountains you saw in the distance yesterday, continuing up around the silent forest, until we make it far enough north to intersect the Brindle River. Or we can move northeast and hope to join up with a traveling caravan heading north.”

  “What about directly North?”

  Ferschall grimaced. “There dwells a truly savage nation, hostile to all who venture too near her borders. The Vin do not welcome any within their forests. Even those of the North Fang Kingdom steer clear.”

  “Well, which of the other two routes is the safest then?”

  Ferschall looked up at him for the first time. “These are Fayden lands son, there are no truly safe routes? Only decisions which lead to consequences, yes?”

  Leon grabbed a small stick and fed bits of it into the fire as he broke it into smaller and smaller pieces. “Okay, so what do you recommend we do?”

  Ferschall studied him thoughtfully “I recommend you all take up a Blade and begin preparing to use it.”

  Ben stepped quietly from the shadows, “I don't think I like you two conspiring together. Tell me what the old goat is saying boy."

  When Leon summarized the conversation, Ben gave a throaty chuckle, "Even here, after all that has happened to our people, such superstitious madness remains! Listen Sensei, I hate to disrupt your little moment with Grasshopper, but he had a point that I’d like you to answer a bit more directly. Which way do you recommend we go?”

  After Leon translated, Ferschall cleared his throat, “I believe we should head for the mountains.”

  “Why?” Ben gripped a small stick, stoking the flames with the short end as he waited on Leon between statements. His question was clear.

  “The Hootsi won’t venture very close to the cliffs that run along the edge of those mountains. They won’t pursue us if we stick to the game trails along the base. It will be a much longer route, and there is an arid climate to contend with, but that route gradually curves north, avoiding the Still Forest. Further north, we will eventually make it to a place where you can ride the river down to Hollinger, yes?”

  “How long?”

  “Maybe…by the time your friend arrives.”

  “What could possibly be their reason for just giving up?”

  “The Hootsi?” Leon interrupted to get Ben to clarify.

  “Yes, the Hootsi”

  Leon relayed the question, “Many of the beasts that live in those passes are…challenging. But one creature in specific will target their mounts as a threat to its territory.” At their blank expressions, Ferschall continued to explain, “A Hootsi leader who allows his mount to die in service to him is no longer a Hootsi man, yes?”

  Ferschall quoted the last line like a well-known saying. Leon couldn’t imagine what sort of creature could easily take out one of those giant cats, but he by no means wanted to meet one any time soon.

  Ben continued the discussion. “That honor system of theirs can’t be healthy for the general population.”

  It took a few minutes for Leon to find the right words to convey general population, but he eventually succeeded, “In a sense, you are right. There are far fewer Hootsi than those of the Wolf Clans to the north. There are also far fewer great cats than men to ride them. Yet, honor makes the Hootsi much more dangerous in many ways as well, yes?”

  “And the danger on the eastern route?”

  “It's a gamble, there should be caravans moving through this time of year, but will we meet one in time? Do you really want to risk your life and the lives of your companions on a throw of bones?”

  Against his better judgment at not exactly knowing what they might face in the mountains, Leon chimed in his support for Ferschall, “Ben, this is a no brainer. We didn’t see any sign of caravans yesterday, and we covered all that ground between here and the ocean.”

  "Repeat that to the old man, just like you asked me."

  Leon did as requested, and Ben turned to face Ferschall. When it was clear Ferschall had nothing to add Ben answered. “We didn’t see anyone because the caravans will be coming from further east, won’t they Ferschall?”

  “But—”

  “That wasn’t an ocean’s shoreline grasshopper, that was a lake. Big moon, big waves, right, Ferschall?” Then, more to himself, he continued, “However, I find it more interesting that Sensei here just let the two of us go on thinking it was an ocean.”

  Leon tried to soften the blow in translation, but Ferschall ignored the insinuation, “I admit, I don’t like the idea of making a race for the caravan route, but if that is the direction you wish to take, I will go along, yes? We are in this together.”

  “How reassuring.” A bit more than a touch of skepticism crept into Ben’s voice.

  Soon the others were awake, and everyone helped themselves to Ferschall's roasted skewers. As the sun’s first rays peaked over the horizon, Leon and Shana shouldered the packs originally meant for them. Ben’s men needed the ability to move should anything else decide to attack their group.

  Surprisingly, despite their size and weight, Ferschall’s packs were well made and fit their backs comfortably. Each pack was outfitted with thick leather straps built to be tied securely around their waist to balance out the bulk of the weight on the shoulders.

  Once again, the morning breeze lent a cool, invigorating touch. It blew in from the north with a cool herbal fragrance and seemed to carry away some of the soreness from their aching limbs as they packed up and set out.

  The sunrise itself coalesced in a beautiful display of golds and pinks, smeared across a partially clouded sky to the east. Once the sun rose beyond the hills, Leon could see the terrain changing. Deciduous trees, more similar to large hickory hardwoods he had known back on earth, were present in patches here and there. There were fewer rocks and more grass as well. Even the hills took a more rounded, less jagged shape.

  The group traveled further north for several more miles.

  "Leon, I want you right here next to me. From now on consider yourself the language teacher for the whole group. I'm going to give a word and you're going to give the Fayden equivalent. We are going to keep doing this, day in and day out, until we all know enough to converse adequately. Understood?" What point was there in answering? His agreement was implicit.

  Eventually, around mid-day, Ferschall drew them to a halt. “Ben, this is where we must make a decision. We can either go west to those smoking mountains there in the distance, or we can head northeast through those hills till we come to the lowlands where the caravans travel. Once again, I recommend we head to the mountains, yes?”

  Ben studied Ferschall for a long moment. Reed shifted uncomfortably, grumbling under his breath over why Ben continued to deliberate on such straightforward advice from someone solely responsible for getting them as far along as they were. Only Leon truly understood the dubious countenance Ben held, as he studied their native friend and ally.

  “We go east.”

  Ferschall didn’t say a word to contradict his decision when Leon made it known. He shrugged in deference, gave a good-natured nod to demonstrate his acquiescence, and turned the group east.

  Leon watched Ben as Ben watched Ferschall. At Ferschall’s cal
m and respectful acceptance of Ben’s decision, the muscles in Ben's cheek twitched. It was a momentary glimpse into what Leon assumed was some serious second guessing on Ben’s behalf.

  Regardless, the decision was made, and their path was set.

  # # #

  Two more nights passed as Leon and his companions continued their pursuit of a north-bound caravan along the eastern route. Once they reached packed earth indicative of past caravan trails, Ferschall steered the group north, hopeful they would see some type of large procession very soon.

  To Leon, it all looked like pristine grasslands with small hardwood groves clustered along shallow creek bottoms. He couldn’t help but think how it would make such excellent rangeland for grazing cattle. Best of all though the land was rich with wild game and that, paired with Ferschall’s uncanny hunting skills, kept them from Ben’s MRE packs more often than not.

  At first, Ben had tried to confuse their pursuers by covering their tracks and planting fake trails away from the party. But when Ferschall explained the Hootsi mounts could follow a scent trail as well as any wolf, Ben dropped the tricks and began scheming with his men on ‘contingency plans.’ Not that they bothered sharing any of their thoughts with the remainder of the crew.

  However, as the other four mercenaries grew more secretive, their resident medic, Cooper, grew less reserved. He traveled a step behind Leon and Ben, spending his time with Reed and Shana for most of their journey. Though Leon didn't hear all of their conversations, Cooper had no qualms sharing a wealth of knowledge regarding much of the fauna and many of the animals they saw.

  The biology of Fayden oftentimes felt familiar, but with rare exception Fayden plants and animals tended to grow much larger than those from back home. In addition, they saw several animals present within Fayden which Cooper claimed had gone extinct ages ago on continents across the world back home.

  Cooper's friendship came with other benefits as well. Gradually, Cooper's subtle suggestions helped Ben trust Leon and his friends with more and more responsibility. He even allowed them to collect firewood in the evenings, so long as they kept Merle close and didn’t stray too far from camp.

  At the end of the third day following their departure from Hootsi land, they stopped to make camp on a slight draw, near a creek. Ben wanted to get a brief rest and to push on early the next morning.

  A little daylight still remained when Shana told Leon she had no energy to help him gather wood that evening. So, he left her at camp and went out with Merle to scour the area for logs and sticks to use for kindling. It was his first time to be truly alone in days and, despite the ever-present concern for danger in the wilderness around them, he relished the opportunity for a little elbow room. Once far enough away from the others, he pulled out his grandfather’s medallion to inspect it more closely in the ebbing light of the fading sun.

  The first thing he noticed when he held it in the light, were tiny gems lodged perfectly within seven different locations across the medallion’s surface. Almost all of them were a deep green color. One gem, however, stood out from the rest, near the middle of the medallion. It held a transparent golden yellow sheen. The only other large feature present on the surface was the off-center hole cut for the chain, near the top of the medallion.

  Leon held it up and looked closer at its surface. The actual metal of the medallion had a gray-blue color, etched in detail so fine he had to hold it very close before the odd angles and shapes revealed a design. The etching formed a picture of sorts. Once he unraveled the scene as a whole, it was easy to spot mountains, rivers, forests, lakes, and quite possibly an ocean along the far-right side.

  A map of sorts? A map of the seven tribes?

  His pulse quickened, and he looked from side to side while listening for the muffled footsteps of anyone approaching. Once certain he was still alone, he turned it over. The other side’s surface ran flat. The gems could be seen from that side as well. Tiny calligraphy writing decorated the areas below or beside each gem. The writing had been artistically crafted, but Leon couldn’t make any of what it said. Apparently, his inherent knowledge of the common tongue didn’t extend to knowledge of the written word.

  For some reason Gus wanted him to keep the tiny map hidden. Though on some level he believed he could trust Ferschall to help decipher the medallion’s meaning, he didn’t dare pull it out near Ben and his men. They would simply take it, and he would be left on his own, entirely at their mercy. For now, at least, he had leverage.

  Leon decided he would just have to keep his secret a secret from everyone until a better time presented itself.

  # # #

  The weather on the third day carried a chill, but the sky was clear, and the wind was calm. If Ferschall and Ben could finally fully agree on one thing, it was that the Hootsi would be close on their heels very soon.

  The party continued their steady progress north through the morning hours, until Ben called a halt as they moved through a pass snaking back up into the mouth of a gorge which sat at the base of a rocky uplift.

  “Leon, get over here. Ask Ferschall how far this pass extends into that outcrop?”

  Ferschall scratched his chin at Leon's question, “It has been years since I traveled this way, but it should not go very far, why?”

  “What about those smaller passes up into the canyon to the west there?”

  “Tributaries during the rainy season. They all most likely lead back into dead ends at slightly higher elevation, yes? We would be playing into their strengths if we attempted to outrun the Hootsi up those canyons. That's their native terrain. Now let’s go, we must move faster.”

  Ben ignored his demand. Without bothering to provide an explanation, he walked back to his cluster of mercenaries and quietly relayed instructions.

  When he finished, Jace took off and begin climbing up into the cliffs above. The rest of their group threw down their packs and peeled off their outer clothing. They donned their black combat gear.

  Leon sidled up to Cooper, “Doc, what’s going on?”

  “Ben’s done running. We’re going to make a stand.”

  Ben turned, “You too Cooper. I need everyone suited up. You kids hand over those extra spears. Leon, tell Ferschall I want him to take you kids up that trail into the ravine, move as far up the trail as you can. Don’t come looking for us, we’ll come get you when it’s all clear.”

  Ferschall wasn't as easy to command and expressed his disagreement, “What are you planning? The Hootsi are not men to be trifled with, they are born warriors, very dangerous, very tricky, even apart from their corrupted forms. The Anastashe cats their leaders ride are legendary. Now come, stop this foolishness. We should continue North as fast as possible, yes? Perhaps there’s a caravan just over the next hill.”

  When Leon gave his response, Ben stepped up close to Ferschall. He didn’t flinch as he looked up into his eyes and held the old warrior’s stare. His face turned red, and a vein showed on his forehead. “Old man, WE are VERY DANGEROUS MEN. Men not to be trifled with…born warriors, very tricky. Now…get going!” One or two hooahs from behind him echoed the sentiment.

  Ben reiterated his command in Fayden for the first time, "Go Now!"

  Leon had no idea what Ben and his men planned to do against over twice their number, but he knew it wouldn’t do anyone any good to argue any further. He touched Ferschall’s sleeve, “Come on man, let’s get on up into these hills.” Ferschall calmly stood his ground a moment longer before allowing Leon to pull him back toward the others.

  Reed didn’t bother to take a side. He said nothing and made no effort to indicate he cared one way or another. He stood, reclining his back against a small tree, patiently scraping the bark from a branch, as stoic as ever. When eyes turned his direction, and silence demanded an answer, he dropped the stick causing it to clatter down the dry creek bed, then turned and started up the trail.

  Shana on the other hand, held her emotions on her sleeve. If Reed’s departure was ice, her response
was fire. She squared up, hands on her hips and addressed Cooper. “So, that’s it, Coop? He’s going to order you to make some foolish last stand and you’re just going to do what? March along like Davy freaking Crockett to the Alamo?”

  Cooper, for his part, fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. He couldn’t raise his face to look her in the eyes. Over the past few days, he had spent a lot of time with Shana and Leon, and they had both begun to see him as someone outside Ben’s inner circle. Someone they could almost trust. Now, Shana was calling him out, right in front of his boss.

  “Easy now Shana. Those guys at the Alamo were outnumbered by like twenty to one, these odds are much more in our favor, right?” His attempt at levity failed miserably, so he regrouped and approached from a different angle, “Ben can be a bit…spunky? But the man knows what he’s doing, why don’t you head on up with the others?”

  Leon watched as Shana went from heated concern to fiery disdain in the measure of about two heartbeats. “You’re a fool Coop.” She turned and hurried up the trail to catch up with Reed.

  Cooper finally lifted his head. He caught Leon’s eye before he could follow. “Look out for her, will you? Tell her I’m sorry too.”

  For some reason, Leon’s stomach did a full-on somersault before he saw red, “Just so we’re clear Doc, looking out for her is already my job! I’ve known her my whole life and I’ll go down swinging before I let anything happen to her, you savvy?”

  Leon didn’t wait for a reply as he and Merle turned and moved up the trail behind the others.

  Ben whistled through his teeth as he slapped Cooper on the back. “I think she likes you Doc. Better watch out for little brother though. The kid’s got an attitude brewing under that quiet country demeanor!”

  “He ain’t her brother, Ben.”

  “Exactly Coop! Exactly! Now come on and suit up; get your mind right. We move out in ten.”

  Chapter 10

  The winds whistled and groaned as they twisted down the barren rock walls of the ravine. Leon couldn’t help but flinch each time one of those shrill notes carried through the pitted rock. Yet, he and his friends remained hidden, comfortably tucked away amidst the sandy gray crevices near the very top of the ravine, while the rest of their companions were awaiting a Hootsi attack, back at the base of the gorge.