Winter's Rising

by Mark Tufo

  Even the birds had enough wisdom to keep their chirping to themselves as Haden flexed his hand continually on the pommel of his sword. If they fought, Tallow and myself would have a chance of escaping in the maelstrom.

  “Won’t fight a girl, won’t fight a fat man; should I find you some goats?” I goaded.

  Haden’s face was crimson. It might have been funny but not one of his men laughed, although that didn’t stop Mennot and his men from doing so.

  I continued. “The mighty Haden has to deceive his allies and lie his way into a deal with a sworn enemy. Is this the man you want leading the people of Klondike?” Haden’s men were looking around at each other, unsure of what was to happen next.

  Haden pulled his sword free. “I am afraid of no one, especially you.” He was pushing his men out of the way.

  “Careful, Haden. You harm the girl too severely and I will consider it a further breech of our agreement,” Mennot warned.

  “She’ll live. She may not wish it, but she will live.” Haden was on the outside edge of Mennot’s men, who as of yet had not moved to allow him entry toward me. Mennot nodded nearly imperceptibly, and the men parted.

  “And what if I should win?” I asked Mennot.

  “Then I will be rid of an arrogant enemy and one step closer to the total victory I have dreamed about for nearly a decade,” he replied.

  “Are you happy now, Winter?” Haden asked as he approached.

  He paused as I answered. “In fact, I am.” I crouched lower. “Tallow, move away,” I said without taking my eyes off of Haden. I did not trust the man enough to not make a cowardly attack while I was looking away.

  “No, Winter.”

  “Move away. I do not have time for this, you will get me killed.” I could feel the space around me expand as Tallow and then Mennot’s men made a bigger area for us to fight in. I’d expected Haden to attack with brute force, letting all his anger and rage dictate his moves for him. I slid effortlessly into my re-focus state. Haden’s arm muscles vibrated as they prepared to uncoil in a strike. I brought my sword up to deflect the swipe that was coming. I stumbled back as Haden’s left fisted hand slammed into my temple.

  “Bet that hurt,” he laughed. His men were cheering. I’d been so intent on his sword hand I’d not bothered watching his other. “Surprised? I’ve been watching you enough to know what your weaknesses are. I didn’t get to lead my men because I was good with my tongue.” The barb was directed toward Mennot, but if the other had caught it he made no mention.

  My head throbbed and was bleeding but I didn’t dare check to see how much. Haden was once again coming toward me, his sword arm flexing. I raised my sword up once again in defense as I looked for an open place to strike. His right foot hit me right below my stomach, sending me sprawling to the ground where I reluctantly filled my mouth with dirt.

  “She fights like a girl!” Mennot was laughing so hard his armor was jiggling, or it could have been that my eyes were jittering in an attempt to stay focused. That was the key–Haden was using my strength against me. When I focused it brought my field of vision down to such a small window I was missing the larger picture and somehow Haden knew that. Tallow grabbed my shoulder to help me up.

  “Move away, boy!” Haden bellowed.

  “This is enough!” Tallow stood over me.

  “It’s enough when I say it’s enough. She dares to belittle me in front of my men, she must pay the consequence.”

  Tallow did not yield his ground. Haden may have been restrained when it came to my life but he had no such fetters when it came to Tallow. He swung his sword with all his might. Tallow barely had enough time to deflect the blows as Haden was raining them down upon him.

  “Please stop,” I begged, tears intermingling with blood. I was attempting to stand and drag breath in at the same time. My hand was outstretched as I reached for Haden’s back. I could see Tallow’s face; fear was etched deeply on it. He was desperately clinging to a life that was being hammered out of him. Haden was relentless in his pursuit.

  “At least your girlfriend stood and faced me. You run like a rabbit!” The taunting was met with a chorus of cheers from Haden’s men. Standing tall or running away, Tallow had no chance.

  “Fight me.” I stood with a grunt, my breath still coming in too shallow to sate my lungs.

  “The Ghost is back! Whatever shall I do?” Haden was playing it up. If nothing else I’d bought Tallow a short respite. Haden’s arms were outstretched as he spun. Tallow lunged.

  “NO!” I screamed.

  Haden had been waiting for just that response. He spun with a savage fury, dropping to one knee as he thrust his sword up under the edge of Tallow’s exposed ribcage. Tallow went down on both knees, grunting as he did so. First he looked to Haden and then over to me. His eyes were wide in pain as he wrapped his hands around the gash in his side. He dropped his sword to the ground and dropped to his knees. When he looked over to me his features softened.

  “I love you, Winter. I always have.”

  I ran toward him. Haden was wiping his blade across his sleeve as though he’d just slaughtered a beast for supper.

  “NO!” I skidded down to his body, lowered it slowly and cradled his head in my lap.

  “Why Mennot wants you so badly is beyond me. Women have no place in war,” Haden jeered.

  I gently placed Tallow’s head on the ground and stood. “I am going to make this as painful as possible,” I told him.

  “You cannot possibly match me. Have you not learned your lesson yet?”

  “Oh, I learned. Are you going to keep spewing your conceited garbage or fight me?”

  Haden’s men “ooohed” at the slight I delivered him.

  “I will hurt you for that.”

  “You will never hurt anyone ever again.” The tears I held in solidified. I would hold on to them until that traitor paid for all I had lost.

  I let the anger burn, deliberately clouding my judgment for as long as I could. I did not want to detach myself and slip into Time Dilation. Haden squared off with me. Warily, I did the same. His sword arm flexed once again and I feigned, bringing my sword up. He again swung out with his left arm. I was able to duck under it. I was too close to his body to get him with my sword. Instead I brought my left elbow in on his jaw as I stood. I heard the satisfying crunch of at least one tooth shattering as his mouth was driven shut. As he staggered back, I thought to press the attack until his sword came up between us. I danced back quickly, just out of reach of the razor sharp tip. He spat out a wad of blood mixed with bone fragments, then dragged his sleeve across his lip, leaving a trail of red.

  “You’re going to pay for that.” His words were laced with venom.

  “Careful, Haden,” Mennot warned again. “I want her relatively undamaged.”

  “Aw, look. I think your master is concerned for my safety,” I taunted. “You’ll notice he doesn’t overly care what happens to you.”

  Haden’s grip on his emotions was tenuous. I was trying to push him over the edge in the hopes he would do something stupid.

  “What a strong warrior you are. You killed your enemy with sedition and then defeated my boyfriend–a mighty Dystancian. You must feel so powerful!”

  “You will stop!” he growled.

  “Make me. Or are you so concerned with giving Mennot his prize intact?”

  “I know what you’re doing, Winter. I will not allow it to happen.”

  “Oh, it already has. Look at your men’s eyes. How long will they want someone who bows to another to rule them?”

  “Mennot does not rule here!”

  Mennot was laughing, the sound echoing in his metal chamber. “Had I known I was going to get this much entertainment I would have packed a bigger lunch.”

  “He’s laughing at you! How long before your men do the same?”

  The words were not out of my mouth before his charge began. “I will kill you!”

  His sword narrowly missed my waist. He would have cut me
open like a fish had he hit true. Again he was too close before I could bring my sword to bear. I pushed him away, sending him stumbling into one of his men. He pushed back, sending the man to the ground. Laughter resonated around us. I did not think that he could get any angrier than he had been–I was wrong. Veins bulged out on his neck, crawling up past his chest plate like fat worms. He came at me, his sword already on a downward arc. He was going to attempt the same tactic on me that he had used on Tallow to just beat me into submission. I deflected the first three or four blows, the next strike I pushed to the side, leaving him off-balance and exposed for a fraction of a second.

  It was so short it was nearly imperceptible; it was not enough time to get in a killing blow, but the slice I delivered across his chest would sting and bleed. He would not soon forget who had given him that injury. He howled like a wounded animal. I did not think I would have another chance to strike before I might be killed. I would not allow what happened to Tallow go without justice, I pulled my revolver free and was about to shoot Haden.

  He looked past my shoulder and nodded. The next thing I felt was blinding pain against the side of my head, and the merciless pull of gravity as I was falling to the ground. The world was fading to black.

  “Harm her and die.” It might have been Mennot speaking, but I didn’t care. Where I was going there would be a reprieve from thinking about Tallow, Cedar, my mother and all I had given up. “I love you, too,” I whispered. And then there was no more.

  Chapter 22

  Escape

  WHEN I WOKE, Cedar was kneeling beside me with a wet cloth. My vision was blurred, but I could make out several Dystancians sitting around a fire, bringing in wood, stacking rocks and other small duties. “She's awake!” she called across the small campsite.

  Serrot came out of the firelight and sat upon his haunches next to me. “How fare you, Ghost?” he asked.

  “What...what happened? How did I come to be here?” I asked slowly, unsure of my own state of mind.

  “Slow.” Cedar said placing a hand on my chest not allowing me a chance to arise though I wasn’t sure if I could. “You suffered a pretty bad crack to the head. Enough that Haden had to immediately bring you to his Meddies and not just hand you over to Mennot.”

  I must have had a confused expression on my face because she clarified that Serrot had told her everything in regards to the betrayal.

  “I went back for you CedarWinter, like I said I would. I… I couldn’t leave you behind. I thought it was all going to be for nothing when I came out of that water and Serrot was at the edge of the pool.”

  Serrot was smiling. “I had a feeling.” He was beaming. “I told her that you and Tallow were laid up in sick bay.”

  * * *

  “Tallow...?” I choked, tears had formed and begun to wet my cheeks.

  “Yes, he has survived. It will be a while until he is healthy, right now he rests.” Cedar said.

  “And you’re with us now?” I asked of Serrot.

  “Some of my people turned against Haden when they realized he had become Mennot’s errand boy,” he said. “We are not many but we stand with you.” He said proudly.

  “He won’t rest until he finds us,” I said.

  “Well, it won’t be from the cistern,” Cedar answered. “We have completely blocked up the hole with rock and debris from the walls of the building by using something called a hand grenade.”

  “We have done it, then,” I said closing my eyes. “Our quest to free Dystance, to free us all, has finally begun.”

  Epilogue

  Reikel Journal Excerpts

  MY NAME IS Reikel Talbot. I keep journals; it is the legacy of my family name to record all our deeds and actions in this way. I can trace our journals all the way back to the man that began it, Michael Talbot. If even half of what the man wrote down is true then he is indeed the legend my family believes him to be. I am part of the Freemen of the East and have struck out to create my own legacy in this world. These journals have been both a boon and a curse to my family. Every member of my clan I have ever known has sought to outdo each other through these written words. Some are clearly fabricated, like those that tell of wars fought against unnatural beings such as Wendigos, werewolves, zombies, and even beings from other worlds, other dimensions, other universes. Yet many seem so real. The endless depravities of man have been recorded in pages just like these. Their cruelty knows no bounds, but neither does their courage.

  Some of my kin have found great treasures, whether machinery from a bygone era or vast herds of bison that have sustained us through the harsh winters. But most have paid the ultimate price for their own quests, having succumbed to the elements or the sharp bite of steel. Others have just never been heard from again. We Talbots are a driven people; our tenacity has greatly helped those who survive, although often at the heartbreaking cost of sacrifice. I’d just turned seventeen when I was thumped with the need to strike out on my own, to see more than just the village I was born in. To really see the world, possibly as Michael had. I did not think it would ever be possible to best what he had accomplished. That did not deter me in the least–I could still make my own way. So it was with my mother’s tears staining my shirt, I left.

  My father smiled sadly as he waved. My three younger brothers looked on longingly as I left, the bug to wander already worming its way through their bodies. My youngest sister was too small to realize what was happening. Or maybe she did, as she spit up on Sender’s chest. My brother did not seem pleased at all. I wouldn’t have thought he would mind the spit up, considering he shies away from washing himself as if soap were caustic. That first night alone was among the hardest I’d ever experienced. As much as I sought some time apart from my family, I had not been ready for the sting of truly being by one’s self. Maybe I would have turned around if I could have written more than, “Caught squirrel, roasted over open fire.” But that’s where the curse comes into play. I could not go home, not yet anyway. I had to prove something. To whom, though? To a man that was likely little more than a myth and had been in the ground for years beyond counting? What was the sense in that? Still I would go on. Maybe it is a deficiency in our souls that makes us do so.

  The first leg of my journey westward had been fairly easy as there were still many villages on this side of the great river. At one time it had been known as the Mississippi–now it is just known as The Sludge. Traveling was uncommon, but most towns I visited had an inn, mostly to serve ale, but also shelter for the occasional explorer or trader. I generally kept to myself, seeking nothing more than a warm meal and a decent place to lay my head. I wanted nothing to do with the painted ladies that promised all sorts of delights for some coin. The closest I got to anything worthy of writing in my journal was when a drunkard threatened to cut me with a chair unless I gave him my money. I’d laughed uncontrollably until he’d swung it and nearly took my head off. Luckily, he’d lost his balance and fell over, fast asleep, at that.

  It was nearly the end of my third week away from home when I stood on the shores of The Sludge. Most Talbots who wandered had made it this far, and I felt a deep sense of pride that I had joined their ranks, but it was the ones that went beyond that were remembered for their deeds or met with infamous disaster. This waterway was the border between safety and adventure. I don’t know what was so magical about it. I knew from my history books that this had long ago been a major thoroughfare for trade and commerce. And then during the wars it had nearly solidified from the detritus of destruction that had flowed down and through it, hence the renaming of it to “The Sludge.” It was still a great river as far as those went, even if it was only half the width of what it had originally been. What it lacked in breadth it made up for in swiftness. To jump into this water now would now potentially whisk you away at speeds faster than a person could run.

  It took another week and all the nerve I could muster to find a place to cross. Getting across entailed hiring the services of a man who could have easily b
een friends with Moses. He had a cable stretched tight spanning the river. It was attached to a heavy pole on one side and the rusted out remains of something I could not discern on our side.

  “Don’t touch that!” he yelled at me when, in my desire to learn what our anchor was, I absently ran my hand across the material. A chunk of it as large as my thigh fell to the ground. He started cackling wildly. He had a flotation device, but no matter how hard I tried I could not in good conscience call two lashed together barrels a boat. The “boat” was attached to the cable with a rope that went from each corner to a ring on the cable.

  “I think my name is John.” The old man raised his leg. I think he wanted me to shake it. And maybe I would have if his shoeless foot hadn’t been as black as a moonless night in winter. As it was, I just looked at him in horror until he seemed to forget what he was doing. “Wait. Maybe it’s Trip. I think once I was known as Ponch…although that may have been somebody else.”

  I was half a heartbeat from leaving this madman by himself; I don’t think he would have noticed my absence. Suddenly, his gaze fixed on me with a clarity I’m not even sure he understood.

  “You look familiar. You have a father?”

  “I...I think everyone has a father, don’t they?” How does one respond to that question?

  “You have things to do and people to find just like he did. I can see it all over your face.”