by Mark Tufo
“How could you possibly think that? Just because I’m not running around like a scared child, does not make me a...”
“Revolutionary?”
“What?” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Brody is a friend of mine.”
“Whoa, this is blowing my mind. What’s going on?” Cedar asked.
“Brody said I’d recognize you the moment I saw you. He wasn’t wrong. Winter the Stoic, Cedar the Determined, and Tallow the Protector. Where is this ‘third’?”
“They had a falling out.”
“Cedar!”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Then one of you will have to hold onto one of these for him until such time as you reunite.” The Major reached back into the small truck and pulled out three old, worn scabbards. “I can’t say these are the finest swords ever made. That art has been lost, as with so many other things. But they’re plenty better than the scrap metal your townsfolk are being issued right now. And before you say anything, yes, I wish I could give these to everyone, but I can’t. First, I only have these three, and anyway, it would be noticed and then traced back to me.”
Cedar had drawn her sword out and was ogling the shiny blade.
“I don’t like being used,” I told him, not taking the proffered scabbard. “It seems that I am just a pawn in a much larger game, one that I don’t know how to play or what the rules are.”
“It will all become clear, Winter. You’ll see this is just the first step of many. But you have to survive this first step; that’s what I’m trying to help you with.”
“Just take us away from here, then you could be certain we’d be safe.”
“I don’t know how much power you think I have, but I can assure you it is much less than you think. Getting you these guns and swords is about the extent of it.”
“That’s not enough,” I told him flatly.
“Winter...I don’t want to give this stuff back.”
“It’s nothing more than a bribe, Cedar. We’re being used.”
“We got a firearm and a better sword, Winter. He’s given us a huge advantage.”
“And how much do we have to pay for them?” The question could have been directed at the Major or at Cedar. “Our lives? Our souls? How much?”
“Faith is a hard concept to comprehend when the world has been deprived of it for so long. But I’m asking you, Winter, to have just a little in me, in Brody, in those of us that are trying to rise up against those that would hold us under their thumbs.”
“You’re right, I don’t trust you. I trust Brody only marginally. The only people I truly trust are Cedar and Tallow.”
“And, yet, Tallow isn’t here, is he? I am though,” the Major said. I don’t think he meant it like the barb it felt like, yet it stung. “I’m offering help. Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t know what I expect, Major. You’re telling me if I live through a war that I have very little chance of surviving that I will have only just begun. How should I feel?”
“I’m telling you to live and that we’ll deal with the rest as it happens. Now get away from me, you vermin. I’ve already told you I do not have any extra rations!” the Major yelled at us just as some of the other soldiers were approaching.
“These pukes bothering you, sir?” one of the soldiers asked as he shoved me. I almost turned and punched him before Cedar grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away.
“We’re sorry, sir,” she said demurely, her head and eyes cast down. “Let’s go,” she hissed at me under her breath. I couldn’t figure out why she was clutching me so tightly as we walked away almost in a huddle.
“Let me go,” I told her when we were a few paces away.
“Your pistol was out, Winter. Your stubborn arrogance is going to get us all killed.” She was busy wrapping her jacket around us.
“Th...thank you, Cedar.” I’d been so intent on giving the Major a piece of my mind I’d forgotten my surroundings. I was determined to not let that happen again. “You saved me.”
“You can return the favor later. Now put that thing away and let’s get back with everyone else.”
I noted with some satisfaction that Tallow was looking around frantically. When he spotted us, he settled down and pretended like it wasn’t us he had been seeking. Anger welled back up in me, though, when he didn’t come over but rather started talking animatedly with his friends. The bravado they were displaying was in direct contrast to how I knew they were feeling–terrified, just like the rest of us.
Everyone now had swords. The scabbards were the same as Cedar’s and mine, but I’d seen enough of the swords being handed out to realize they were inferior, scratched, pitted, and in some cases even dull. Some of the people had paired off and were sparring, practicing what little they knew. The soldier trucks started up and began to pull out.
“This is it?” Cedar asked. “Now what, Winter? Do we leave when we can?”
I didn’t have an answer; I was torn. These people had no chance and most would run at the first sign of trouble. Just because we couldn’t protect them didn’t mean we shouldn’t try.
“I don’t think I can leave, Cedar, but you should.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
“Am I that predictable?”
“In some cases, yes. This group is going to draw the Ferals right to them. They’re loud, unruly, and worse, untrained. Winter, staying with them means the end for us.”
“Are you so ready to abandon these people we’ve known our whole lives? We’re probably related to some of them. My birth mother only had me, but how many did your birth mother have? Many of us could have the same father; you might be my sister, Cedar, or Tallow’s or even Ashe’s. Has that ever occurred to you?”
“I do feel attached to my friends, Winter, but not because we might be genetically related. I don’t think of them like that; we’re not supposed to think of them like that.”
“That doesn’t make it right, Cedar. Some of these people we would be leaving are our brothers and sisters, and friends; who else are we doing this for? Tallow isn’t going to leave; do we just abandon him, too? Just because he doesn’t want to be with me anymore doesn’t mean I want him dead.”
“I’ve read about this a lot in my books.”
“How’s it turn out?”
“As a rule, not so good. One true love usually dies saving the other.”
“Alright everyone, we need to create some shelter!” Tallow had climbed onto a boulder and was yelling to the crowd milling about, unsure of what they should do next.
“Who died and made you boss?” one of Tallow’s friends yelled out in jest. Another picked up the chime but this time it was not a joke.
The same boy, Durango, advocated that they should move away from this spot and find a way out.
“We don’t know what’s out there,” Tallow replied.
“We know there’s nothing here,” Durango said. He was a gangly boy, all elbows and knees, but he had grabbed the attention of a fair number of people. “Whoever wants to stay and die can. Whoever wants to win this thing can come with me.”
“I don’t think splitting up is a good idea,” Tallow told him.
“Great. Then you’ll come along. Just don’t get in my way.”
“Adversity always causes divisiveness, and divided we fall.” Cedar was watching intently.
“That in your books, too? Sorry, forget I said that,” I told Cedar when I realized how sharply I had said those words. I was anxious for Tallow; what she said made perfect sense even though she had just suggested we leave.
Durango and his closest friends prodded at the crowd until they felt that they had the numbers. “Alright then, let’s get a move on before we get caught out here in the dark.”
Of the two hundred and fifty-ish of us out here, nearly two hundred went with him. They figured, falsely, that he somehow had a plan, and that a plan meant safety. Tallow was scanning what was left, and most of them had their ey
es on him, me included. I was wondering if he was going to throw his lot in with Durango. I’d about given up hope on him with the way he was pensively watching them depart. They were headed for the tree line some few hundred yards away.
He turned back to face us as the majority of Dystancians faded into the thick underbrush. “Alright, this is as good a place as any. I want to get some people to help me move some rocks. We’re going to make a protective barrier against whatever comes.”
“I didn’t think he had it in him,” Cedar said. “We staying?”
“For now.” I wasn’t overly keen on our placement. Yes, it did afford wide-open views to whoever might come up on us, but it left us no avenue for escape, and no place to hide; there were Pickets not more than a quarter of a mile to our rear, so that direction was out. I’d read in one of the books that nothing was more dangerous than a cornered animal. I sincerely hoped that applied to humans as well.
The work was hard and the sun was once again making its downward journey by the time we were nearing completion. I had to admit, the wall was fairly imposing. It spanned about thirty feet and curved back at both ends like a giant ‘u’. It easily held all of us with room to spare. It came up past my waist, not enough to stop someone, but enough to slow them down. It would make sufficient cover, and Cedar and I could fire our pistols over it.
“I thought you were leaving,” Tallow said. I was leaning up against a rock wiping the sweat from my brow, a large swig of water in my mouth. I was thankful it was there and I had to take the time to swallow or I’m pretty sure I would have told him to go take a flying leap.
“Would you rather I had gone?” I asked, turning to face him.
That caught him off-guard. “That’s…that’s not what I meant.”
“And yet, that’s what you said.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Winter. Brody’s plan was for you to leave at your first chance. I’d say you’ve had more than a few by now.”
“I still can,” I immediately regretted saying those words. Why was my pride, and his, always getting in the way of what we really wanted to say? I loved him, and I felt like he had betrayed me. I just wanted to melt in his arms; that was, of course, after I beat him up a little for putting me through this.
“Well, if you’re going to leave, I suggest you do it before it’s dark.” And with that he turned and left.
If I could have picked up the rock I was leaning on and thrown it at him I would have.
“That went well,” Cedar said, springing up from the other side of the wall.
“Are you spying on me?” I asked indignantly.
“I’ve been sitting here reading for the last half hour. You’re the one that came over.”
“You do know you’re on the wrong side, right?”
“I’m away from everyone, so I think this is the perfect spot.”
A solitary scream riveted everyone’s attention. This was followed by another and then by a chorus. People stopped whatever they were doing to look at the distant forest. The clash of metal could be heard. Cries of pain, anguish, and anger filtered through the woods and to our attentive ears.
“You know, maybe you’re right. I think it’s best that I get on your side,” Cedar said as she scrambled over the wall. The fighting seemed to draw closer and then pull farther away. Indistinct shouts could be heard. It was terrifying from here. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like out there, having people around you that wanted nothing more in this world than to see you dead. What a horrifying situation.
“Ferals?” Cedar asked me.
“What makes you think I know?”
I started to see movement at the fringe of the forest.
“To arms!” Tallow shouted. Cedar and I had already drawn our swords. That these people needed to be reminded to grab their weapons did not bode well. I looked around; as I had predicted, we were effectively trapped by our own defense. Everyone pressed up against the rocks trying to get a better view of what was happening. There was an expectant hush over all of us. No one spoke for fear that they would miss some clue as to what was going on.
A figure burst forth from the trees. My hand reflexively gripped my hilt harder. This was it–this was what I’d been training for so hard the last year. So then, if that was the case, why was I feeling so sick to my stomach?
“It’s Durango!” someone shouted out.
“Jerk. First to lead them out, first to run away,” Cedar said as she looked on. I agreed wholeheartedly with her.
More Dystancians began to emerge, but not many. Nothing like the numbers they’d left in. Fifty, maybe sixty of them were running toward us. Most were without weapons, and the fact that they kept looking over their shoulders was proof to me that they were being followed.
“They’re going to bring whoever is out there right to us,” I snarled.
Durango and company were about halfway across the expanse when the “whoevers” finally showed. They were half-naked men and women, screaming and chasing them. The little they wore appeared to be made of buckskin, their skin was painted in brilliant orange and yellow hues. Even from this distance it was easy to see the savagery in their features as they chased the remnants of Durango’s contingent. They ran effortlessly, overtaking the much slower retreaters. The sound of stone hammers crashing down on skulls rent the air. Our people were falling, being dragged down like prey to wild dogs. Not one Dystancian turned to fight.
“We need to help them!” I was halfway over the wall when Cedar grabbed my leg.
“It’s too late, Winter,” she said, pointing. There were hundreds of the Feral warriors pouring from the woods.
“Oh God,” I said.
“She left, too,” Cedar informed me. “But not with Durango.”
Durango, and those nearest to him, were just getting to the edge of our protective barrier when the Ferals stopped about midway between the trees and us. There were some finishing off the unlucky stragglers, but for the most part they were just staring at us. When the whimpering from the dying stopped, we noticed a great line of the warriors standing perfectly still. I climbed the rest of the way atop the rock and thrust my sword up into the air. “Come and try!” I shouted, shredding my voice.
A warrior in front thrust his hammer into the air and whooped a war cry. As one they turned and paced off back into the trees.
“They’re dead! They’re all dead!” Durango had nearly leapt over the rock wall. He lay on the ground. Blood and tears intermingled on his face as he wept.
“No thanks to you,” I told him.
He said nothing.
“This is not the time, Winter,” Tallow admonished me.
I spun on him, anger and adrenaline fueling my words. “When is the right time, Tallow? After he leads another group of us off to the slaughter? Would that be a better time?” I didn’t realize it then, but I was pointing my sword at his chest.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Cedar was watching the retreating Ferals.
“They came out of nowhere...silent…truly like mountain cats. They just descended on us. We didn’t even know we were being attacked until the screaming started. It was...oh God. It was horrible.” Durango was crying again.
Chapter 12
The Klondike and Dystance Camps
“SO IT SEEMS that the Ferals have started the bloodshed,” Haden, the leader of the Klondikes, stated. He was off to the far right of the action with his second in command, Serrot.
“Ferals killing Dystancians…who cares?” Serrot stated, bored with the whole thing. “I’d be more impressed if they were killing Hillians.”
“Did you see that girl standing on the rock?”
“What of her?”
“She was magnificent. If there were ever a true female warrior, she is one.”
“She wouldn’t stand a chance against any of the women in our tribe.”
Haden had his doubts about that but kept them to himself. “I want to meet her.”
“Are you crazy?
We need to seek out the Hillians and either catch them completely off-guard and destroy them or make a peace accord until such time we can square off against each other.”
“How well has that worked for our people in the past, Serrot?”
This time Serrot was silent for a moment. “What are you suggesting, Haden? An alliance with the Brutons?”
“What about them?” He was pointing to the rock enclosure.
Serrot snorted. “Them? They’re chattel. They’re just in the way until the real fighting begins. The Ferals are locked on; they’ll destroy them as soon as the sun sets. I say let them. Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll put up a decent fight and take a bunch of the savages with them.”
“And what if they win?”
“Really? So what, Haden? Don’t let one girl cloud your judgment.”
“I don’t think she’s just any girl, Serrot.”
“You’re not going to change your mind, are you? I’ve seen that look before. Haden, come on, think of all we’ve gone through for just this war. Don’t blow it over them,” he said with disdain.
“Get the archers up here.”
“All of them? Are you sure?”
“Serrot, do not forget your place. I do not need to explain myself to you.”
“I’m sorry, I sometimes forget who we are on the field, since we’ve been friends and walker-mates since we could begin remembering.”
Haden blinked and finally looked at his friend. “I’m sorry as well, Serrot. You are right–the Ferals will attack tonight. If we can inflict grave damage on them while they’re attention is directed elsewhere, I wish to do so. We’ve lost far too many people to the soulless ones. I would like to impart a little retribution.”
“This has nothing to do with the girl then?”
“I didn’t say that…but the fact remains we still have a chance to wound a dangerous enemy; we should take that opportunity while we can.”