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Free Trader Complete Omnibus

Page 18

by Craig Martelle


  He offered his hand to Micah. “What do you say? Partner?”

  She shook his hand heartily. “I can’t say that I’ve ever felt more welcome.”

  “Too bad I got my ass beat first, but it’s good to know what you can do. Have you ever fought with a knife? Our fight with the boars…we had to kill them to save the horses.”

  “I have a small knife for cleaning fish. Do you have a better one I could use? Or, if we can find a charging station, then you will see what a blaster can do. I’m afraid without a charge, even a bad knife is better.”

  “Besides my long knife, I have a small skinner, probably no bigger than yours. If we run across others, maybe we can work a trade.”

  “If we run across others, that’s when I’ll need it the most,” she replied.

  “Is it that bad down here? How many people are around and what do they do?”

  “Villages support themselves. There are no people like you who go from village to village. Usually, everyone has their own territory to hunt, to cultivate, to fish. Sometimes we have to trade, coastal village with a mountain village, trading fish and oils for hides and precious stones. But we all go together to make the trade. There is no trust between the villages. Everyone here does what they need to survive.”

  Braden thought about it. He would call the north civilized compared to what she described. In the south, they knew about Old Tech and seemed to have more of it, but they lived isolated lives. Maybe his destiny was to start a Caravan Guild here, establish routine trade, and help these people out of their dark ages. “Is there a road system here? In the north, the ancients’ road system is the backbone of the traders. Without it, I don’t know where we’d be.”

  “You’d probably be more like us,” Micah suggested. “There are roads, but people avoid them. If someone knows where you’ll be, you are easier to attack.” Braden shook his head. He was a Free Trader. It was incomprehensible that people would be such savages. Trade brought the people together. In the north, every town had a market square where trading took place. It was the foundation of civilization.

  Braden couldn’t fathom this new world where they had no free trade. He didn’t like it.

  66 – You Really Should Have Talked

  The Plains of Propiscius, or as Braden liked to think of them, the Plains with the Ridiculous Name, were extensive. They traveled for turns through sparse trees and limited brush. Eventually, the trees got thicker, becoming a full forest, as the humidity grew just as thick and the heat oppressive. Micah said they were approaching a rainforest. It even had a name: the Amazon.

  To continue, they needed to find an ancients’ road. Braden expected it to be grown over. The Hawkoid said that he couldn’t find anything, no matter how far he flew in either direction. Micah had never approached the city from this direction, so she couldn’t advise him. If they traveled east toward territory she was familiar with, they risked running into hunting parties from villages she wished to avoid.

  They decided to turn west, skirting the Amazon rainforest until they crossed the road that Braden knew must be there. Micah thought she remembered roads leaving Sanctuary, heading in all directions. She would not discuss anything else about Sanctuary, no matter how hard Braden pressed her, even asking the ‘cat to dig for information.

  G-War politely refused since he didn’t care what they found. He was eating well and they were safe, so his needs were met. Braden suspected the Golden Warrior was soft on the human female. While sitting around a campfire at night, she would absently pet the ‘cat while they talked. G-War never let Braden do anything so demeaning. Maybe G-War was working her to add to his stable of servants. That sounded more like the ‘cat. He would watch to see how things played out, but he expected she would soon turn into a willing servant.

  Braden looked at the ‘cat riding comfortably in the cart. G-War watched back, expressionless, lids heavy over his eyes. ‘I know you’re plotting something, my friend. And I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Braden said in his thought voice, nodding, then returned his gaze to the land in front of them.

  “The road may not be obvious when we cross it. In the north, roads through wooded areas are overgrown, not visible. Many trees grow along the sides; their roots break apart the road surface. Grass grows readily in the dirt lying on top of the ancients’ roads. Trees don’t grow in the road itself. The trees will grow high over it and create shade, but they won’t grow in the road. This is what we’re looking for.” Although Braden was talking for Micah’s benefit, he was also talking to himself. He hoped that they hadn’t already passed the road south.

  He was getting distracted from his main goal of returning north with a cart full of Old Tech to trade. With the new information and the new members of the caravan, it seemed like his original goal was small, maybe even shortsighted.

  There was a big world out there. The ancients had plans for it, but those fell apart when they resorted to war.

  Was he the one to change it from what it was now to what it was meant to be? No. He wasn’t sure he liked what it had become; the ancients destroyed themselves and their world. They forced people like Braden to make a whole new start.

  No. That wasn’t his goal. He wanted to find some Old Tech and then take it back north to trade, although he wasn’t sure what waited for him there. His thoughts turned dark.

  ‘They come!’ the Hawkoid’s thought voice shouted into their minds in unison with the ‘cat’s voice.

  “Show us,” Braden said softly, not knowing how close and who ‘they’ were. The view from the Hawkoid’s perspective appeared behind their eyes. They saw five men running directly at them from ahead. No, six men. One lagged behind, running with a limp, barely able to keep up.

  “Off the horse. They’ll be here momentarily. Master Aadi, with me, in front. Micah, to the far side. G-War, the other side. Skirill, be ready to come at them from behind,” Braden ordered. There was no time to discuss things.

  Everyone started moving to their positions, although Micah hesitated, giving Braden an angry look. “Look. From the side, it’s more likely that you’ll be able to fight one person at a time. You are on your own over there. Make the best of it.”

  Once assured that he wasn’t trying to protect her, she ran to the side and found cover behind a tree.

  Braden calmly nocked an arrow to his recurve bow and drew it back as the men ran into view before him. “Hold!” he shouted with all the volume he could muster.

  The man at the front held up his hand and slowed to a walk, then stopped about twenty strides before Braden and Aadi. He wore smart woven clothing that hung loosely on him, yet maintained his shape. Pants, belted. A tunic vest over a long-sleeved shirt of some thin material. His shock of dark hair suggested the man was younger. His face was clean shaven. As Braden looked from one to the other, they were all similar in dress and appearance. They carried spears and long-bladed swords.

  Finally, the last member of their party limped up to the man in front, as he stopped before putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily.

  Braden had engaged men like this hundreds of times. His introduction was well practiced.

  “I am Free Trader Braden, recently from Warren Deep, in search of items to take back north in trade. Maybe we can trade?”

  “Trader? Warren Deep? I think you’re a little far from home, son,” the man in the front said. The man who was bent over put a calming hand on the other’s leg.

  “Who may I have the honor of addressing? And then if we may have a polite conversation regarding the viability of trade, it would be my pleasure.”

  “I am McCullough of clan McCullough. This is our territory. No one passes here without our permission, which you do not have.” The man’s hostile gaze locked on the Tortoid.

  “Please accept our sincere apologies. If we cannot come to terms, we’ll turn around and leave your territory without further issue. We wish to cause no problems,” Braden said as soothingly as he could.

  The men starte
d spreading out, loosening their weapons as they casually gave themselves space to fight.

  “That’s a mutie, and we kill muties,” one of them said.

  “His name is Aadi, First Master of the Tortoise Consortium. If you got to know him, you would realize that he is quite knowledgeable as well as very friendly.”

  In his thought voice, he added, ‘I’ll take the one talking and the next one behind him and to his left. Skirill, you take the one at the back and to his right. G, you got the one closest to you, and Micah, if you can hear me, the one closest to you is yours. Aadi, if you could assist with that one, we would appreciate it. We’ll leave the old man so we can talk with him. Get ready.’

  “Hold, my warriors,” rasped the old man’s voice as he straightened himself. “I am Elder McCullough and I think we can discuss things like gentlemen.” He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. His dark eyes glistened as he took in the horses, the cart, Aadi, and finally Braden.

  “Elder!” the man to Braden’s far left shouted. “There’s another one over here. A woman.”

  Micah stepped out from behind the tree. To the men, she appeared to have no weapon. The man who saw her started to laugh and smoothly drew his sword. It was long and straight, with a great cross bar above the grip. Braden never wanted to start a fight, but he was more than willing to end one, even if it meant running away. That wasn’t a choice here.

  ‘Now, Skirill.’ He glanced up to see the Hawkoid start his high speed dive. Braden quickly pulled back and sent an arrow at the young McCullough’s chest. It hit hard, knocking the man backward, but did not penetrate the strange material of the tunic. Braden nocked another arrow in less than a heartbeat and loosed it at the younger man’s exposed neck.

  It hit home, tearing out his throat. The young man gurgled as he fell dying.

  Aadi’s mouth opened slightly as he sent his focused thunderclap toward the men. Being beside him, Braden heard the sound build as it passed in front of him, but it didn’t hurt his ears. It looked like the Tortoid attacked the remaining five men at the same time, which weakened the sound’s power. All of them stopped, two dropped their swords, but they looked to be recovering quickly.

  Which gave Braden time to fire an arrow through another man’s eye.

  Skirill crashed into his target from behind, latching onto the man’s head with his powerful claws as the man stumbled forward. The Hawkoid tried to twist the neck, but couldn’t get enough leverage. His claws dug deeply into the man’s flesh, raking the bones of his skull as Skirill lost his grip while beating his wings to get back into the air.

  The coordinated attacks galvanized the other men into action. The man closest to Micah charged her, sword raised. The man closest to G-War pulled his sword and charged straight at Braden. He never noticed the ‘cat streaking in from behind to launch itself onto his back. With a well-practiced slash, the ‘cat’s claws dug deeply into the man’s neck. He fell to his knees as blood spurted from the open wound.

  Braden took aim at the man rushing Micah, but he couldn’t shoot as the gap between the man and Micah disappeared. Micah stepped back as the man raised his sword for a death blow. She shot forward and hit him with her shoulder square in his mid-section. He hammered the pommel of his sword one time onto her back as he went over. She went to her knees, then crawled forward quickly until she rolled back to her feet, twisting to face her attacker.

  He swung his sword in short arcs from side to side, keeping Micah away from him and on her heels. Skirill swooped low over the man’s head to distract him, and he poked his sword at the fleeting figure of the Hawkoid. Micah raced in and grabbed his wrist with both hands, pulling it and the sword closer to her body. She rotated her torso, bending the man’s elbow in a direction it wasn’t meant to go. The tendons strained and the man shrieked in pain. The sword fell from his numb fingers. She smoothly ducked, rolling up the man’s back until she got his neck and head in her strong grip. She braced her feet on the ground as he struggled. She dropped and twisted, using the man’s body weight against him. His neck cracked. He hit the ground a corpse.

  Micah pushed him away from her, then picked up the sword, examining its edge.

  G-War crouched behind the Elder, ensuring that he didn’t make any unwanted moves as Micah easily dispatched the final one of his warriors.

  Fire burned behind his eyes as he glared at the upstart youth who had killed his son. The old man picked up the sword from the ground by his dead son’s body. He looked at the arrow wound, hatred burning his soul.

  He turned to look at Braden, then made a couple purposeful steps forward.

  Braden immediately launched an arrow that bounced off the tunic covering the old man’s chest. The impact staggered him and he stopped moving.

  “You and I both know that you’ll be dead if you try it.” The old man dropped his sword arm, glaring at Braden. “Are you willing to talk now?”

  “We may have been hasty in not talking with you at first. Go. Leave me. Let me mourn my clan in peace.” Braden felt sorry for the old man. By threatening Micah and refusing to talk, they forced Braden’s hand. They misjudged him, and they died for it. In Warren Deep, that was the penalty for bringing an unprovoked war.

  ‘It plans revenge,’ G-War said calmly over their mindlink.

  ‘Of course he does. Does he have the means to attack us again?’ Braden asked.

  ‘Ask it and then I will know.’

  “How many more warriors are in your village? Where is your village? How many people are there?” Braden asked quickly so the man would think of his answers without thinking.

  ‘It is a small village, one turn distant in the direction we go. There are two men left and a number of women and children.’

  “Thanks, G,” Braden said aloud. “Two warriors at your village and you still plan to attack us?”

  The old man’s eyes went wide. “Stay out of my head, you damn muties!” He rushed forward, raising his sword as Braden pulled back his arrow. Master Aadi stopped him with a bump and dropped the old man with the full force of a focused thunderclap.

  The old man flopped on the ground, whimpering like a small child as blood dripped from his ears. His hands, now empty, held his head in a futile attempt to soften the pain.

  “A shame. All I wanted to do was talk,” Braden told the man.

  67 – He’s a Pig

  Braden tied the man up and lashed him to the cart. G-War sat nearby, looking like little more than a house cat as he watched the man closely.

  Master Aadi was spent. Braden didn’t realize the toll the use of his weapon took on the Tortoid. He could barely float, so Braden helped him into the cart where he rested on the blankets and their supplies.

  Micah and Braden searched the bodies of the men. The tunics they wore were woven from a stiff material that moved as the body moved, but didn’t allow anything to pierce it. Braden found one close to his size and put it on. He liked it. It made him feel more powerful.

  The smallest of the tunics was still too large for Micah, but she swore that she could tailor it down to her size. It was easy to remove threads. Adding threads? That would have been a challenge. Maybe they could take the extra material to provide a little protection for the horses’ flanks? They took all the tunics and piled them in the cart, along with the men’s weapons. The men carried nothing else of value. They were traveling light.

  Which meant they weren’t a scouting party, because they’d need supplies for an extended stay in the wilderness. Unless they had supplies staged at various locations within their territory. Braden wanted to know.

  “What were you doing out here?” Braden asked once the man was in less pain.

  “None of your farging business, toad!” the man rasped as renewed pain contorted his face.

  ‘This was a raiding party. They were to attack another village, not far from here, alongside the rainforest.’

  ‘Another village? G, can you sense any other humans nearby? Are they a threat?’

  ‘Very far
away. Not a threat, but no help either. They stay away from other people.’

  “So what should we do with you? I’m not one for killing people in cold blood, but letting you go will come back to haunt us. Unless your village is willing to trade for you?”

  “They will trade well for me! Take me to my village!”

  ‘He thinks he will be able to overwhelm us with his people once the trade is complete.’

  ‘Of course he does,’ answered Braden in his thought voice.

  ‘Maybe I can talk with him,’ Micah answered over the mindlink. Braden looked for her, seeing her standing at the base of a tree with Skirill overhead, looking fearsomely protective.

  “My friend Micah has a few questions for you, Elder McCullough. Be kind. Please don’t make me hack your limbs off one by one. That would make me feel bad and I’m sure you wouldn’t like it either.” The Elder glared at him in response.

  Micah strolled to the cart, taking her time. She sized up the man with her arms crossed. Then she leaned close to him, looking into his eyes. He struggled against his bindings, lunging toward the young woman. With a quick rotation at her waist, she drove her elbow into the man’s face, breaking his nose, splattering blood onto the side of the cart.

  “He’s a pig. We should kill him now,” she said as she stood up and walked away.

  “I would have thought ‘questioning him’ would actually have included questions. I guess I’m old fashioned like that,” Braden said with a smile. He thought as she did about the man. Evil seemed to ooze from him.

  ‘If I may, Master Human,’ Aadi said slowly in a tired thought voice. ‘I suspect that if this man is as Micah suggests, then the women of the village will probably be happy to have him back, so that they may deal with him themselves. We could use some allies. If we have to fight the whole way south, then this will grow tiresome very quickly.’ The Tortoid ended his speech as he faded back into sleep.

  “Micah, what do you think of turning this man over to the women of his village? I think the appearance that he was bested by a woman would help the others. I suspect that they are little more than slaves. What do you say we give them a taste of freedom?”

 

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