The Brotherhood of Merlin

by Rory D Nelson

  He observes two other riders. One rider attempts to flank him from the side and tries unsuccessfully to shoot him from the dense underbrush of the forest. Such a shot is difficult, for a marksman. Latimer glances briefly in his direction and focuses his attention on the rider ahead of him. The rider unloads a couple of rounds on him and one grazes his shoulder, causing him to wince in pain. The shot does little damage though. Latimer returns fire with several rounds. The rider is forcefully expelled from his horse when two shots pierce his neck and chest.

  The expulsion knocks the air out of him completely and when he hits the ground, he tries in vain to suck in air, but instead, sucks in a prodigious amount of blood into his lungs, forcing him to cough and wheeze uncontrollably. His vain efforts to resuscitate himself are cut short when Latimer finishes the job by putting another bullet in his head.

  The diversionary tactics of the riders prove to be unsuccessful. The other rider painstakingly makes his way out of the dense forest, only to be greeted by Latimer who is more than ready for him for a wave of gunfire. Before the rider can begin to reach for his gun, Latimer fires four rounds into the man’s chest and neck. He would have been forcefully expelled from his horse as well, if he had not gotten his foot hung up in the stirrup and wrapped around his ankle. With several rounds piercing his body in multiple mortal wounds, he slumps over to the side and lays there dead as the horse rides off in a frenzied gallop.

  (7)

  Despite Arkin’s pain, he does not deviate from Latimer’s plan. Using only one hand, he drives the horses up to the clearing in the forest, properly obscured from their pursuers. Once in the clearing, Arkin walks through the door of the wagon.

  The children are huddled almost on top of their mother, who does her best to comfort them. Their dog Mitz, stands near their feet, ready to defend them to the death, if the situation should warrant it.

  As Arkin is about to make a plea for haste, several shots ring out and pierce the camper. Arkin takes up the big revolver and busts through the door. As nervous as a newborn gilly, he fumbles clumsily with the weapon and tries to fire off rounds, nearly setting off the gun prematurely and blowing off his foot.

  Sophia, sensing an impending doom, desperately grabs the gun from him and shoots it at a rider who turned the corner in the road. Her shot finds its mark in the man’s Adam’s apple. He reflexively clutches his throat in a vain attempt to stifle the blood flow, coughs violently and topples over.

  Another rider comes into view and fires several shots in counter. One of the shots unfortunately finds its mark in Arkin’s bad shoulder, breaking it and eliciting several excruciating howls of pain from him. Blood seeps from the wound in a gush and the man fears he hit something vital, perhaps a vein or major artery. He becomes dizzy.

  “Take the horses Mais. I’ll guard the wagon. Our pursuers will believe you are in there. It will create a diversion and Christ willing allow you to escape. Go west, towards the sea.”

  “I can take you.”

  He looks at her gravely. “I’ll slow you down. You have the children. Go.” She kisses him sweetly. “Go. Now.” He says emphatically.

  She wastes no time and unbridles the horses from their reigns. She takes one of the leads, another great stallion, named Letnor and a smaller mare in the back named Abbey. This one she saves for her kids. The smaller female appears to be gentler by nature but stout and able-bodied.

  Isabella cries quietly, but Dante seems more resilient. He is visibly upset, but he seems determined and focused on the task at hand. Arkin admires him. He prays they will live to see another day. This day will be his last and he is determined to give the almighty the best he can.

  As soon as the family departs, he walks to the road where the last rider fell at the hand of Sophia. He picks up a long rifle and revolver. If he readies a shot beforehand, he might be able to get off one shot at the pursuers, perhaps two.

  The sheps stand sentry at the door to the fortwagon. Arkin doesn’t know if it is their great intuition that causes them to act so and they instinctively know what the plan entails or if they are merely waiting for their master to return to his wagon and protecting it for him in his absence.

  Arkin returns to the wagon and brings out the long rifle. He readies it for the shot. After verifying the slug chamber is full, he cocks the hammer and readies it. It is a cumbersome task given his disabled shoulder and the blood loss is beginning to disorientate him.

  Several shots ring out very near him. He looks where the shots fired and notices several bullet holes in the fort. Some were very near him and he cringes how close he came to dying. The dizziness makes it difficult to see clearly, but he distinctly sees a figure approaching on reindeer.

  He lines up his sights, holds his breath, says a prayer to the almighty, and squeezes the trigger. The results are instantaneous and deadly. An ear-deafening bang echoes throughout the forest and the devastating kickback from the shot knocks Arkin on his ass.

  Despite his lack of experience with the weapon, he hits his mark. The shot strikes the rider in the neck, causing a large, cavernous hole and an uncontrollable spurt of crimson on his drab, charcoal overcoat. The rider topples over with his head slanted at an impossible angle with fresh tendrils of muscles billowing out and his countenance displaying a look of befuddlement.

  Arkin awkwardly stands up, half admiring and half disbelieving his handiwork. Before he can celebrate his victory, another rider replaces the fallen rider and begins to fire successive rounds at Arkin, who fumbles for the revolver and attempts to cock the hammer once again.

  But now he readies it, the hand explodes in a bloody stump of gore, cartilage and bone.

  As he looks, blood continues to spurt from it. The sheps will not be willing target practice. They take off like a shot. The speed shooter takes only cursory notice of them. He finishes the job on Arkin by putting several bullets in his midsection. The man topples over and is still.

  Fearing an assault from the sheps, the rider tracks and lines up his sights on them. They are moving unbelievably fast, but he is an expert speed shooter, capable of killing a moving target. He fires two successive rounds at the largest of the brutes. The dog lets out a high-pitched yelp and topples over dead. The other dog looks back longingly at its fateful companion and changes tactics.

  The dog moves quicker and zig-zags his pattern, making it difficult to line up a shot. The shooter tries to line up one, but unfortunately cannot zero in on the animal. Several rounds come perilously close to it, but all miss their mark.

  The dog is only a few yards away from the man on horseback. Just as he is about to get a shot off the animal does something unpredictable. He dives behind him. The shooter tries to compensate and turn his horse around, but he over-compensates and fires a wild shot, completely missing the dog.

  Sensing his advantage, the dog sprints at full force and jumps in the air towards him. The move is much too quick and the man is unable to get a shot off. When the beast reaches the man, he sinks his teeth deep into the man’s hand. He continues to bite down on the hand with all his force, as the two topple to the ground.

  The man emits a high-pitched scream of agonizing pain and tries to punch the dog. Unfortunately, the strength he musters couldn’t have thrown off a small terrier, let alone a hulking canine.

  The dog bites down on the man’s hand and rips it from his wrist as crimson spurts, staining man and beast. The dog drops the hand and lunges for his face, sinking his teeth deep into tender flesh.

  Upon the initial penetration, one of his eyes pops, emitting copious amounts of gore, ocular fluid and blood. The man tries to scream, but the dog has blocked his mouth and the man can only get out a few gurgled protests.

  He is powerless. The dog begins to shake the man’s face, ripping and tearing it and finally succeeds in ripping it off. The man screams in a hellish frenzy of nightmarish pain. The dog cuts off the man’s screams when he savagely bites into his throat and rips out his larynx.

  With his j
ugular vein cut, the man crashes his head down and is still.

  (8)

  Cuthberto and Romulin are due to intercept the wagon, but Troy has not seen hither nor hide of them. He suspects the worst. An impossible lump forms in the pit of his stomach, causing bile to rise to the surface. He dismisses it. Troy gallops in the direction of the piercing screams.

  He enters a gruesome scene. Several riders have been dispatched; their bodies left in a bloody heap; their horses nowhere to be found. He looks towards the wagon and notices Timmins horse, standing near his body.

  His presence alerts a dog who is standing near the body of Timmins. It is a large shep and its normally golden fur is stained with crimson. Troy shakes his head in frustration and reaches for his revolver and fires successive rounds at the beast. Two of them hit their mark and the dog lets out a mortal yelp and topples over.

  Troy ventures closer to scrutinize the scene. Upon seeing Timmins, he chokes back an expulsion of his latest meal, which threatens to burst forth. The man’s face has been savagely bitten off and his throat ripped out. He is barely recognizable as a human being. Poor sap. He cringes at the way in which he had to go.

  He approaches the wagon and observes the rotund sage who been killed. The man suffered several injuries to his body, but the lethal ones were in his torso. Troy nonchalantly pushes the man aside and opens the door. Nothing. The family absconded. This was their diversionary tactic.

  God only knew how many of the men were dispatched by the old man, but where was he? Troy hears an approaching beast. From the sound, he realizes it is a reindeer. Thank God their leader had not fallen.

  “The Mais and her children are gone,” says Troy.

  “I ken. They’ve created their own diversionary tactic. They’re headed downhill.”

  “How many men are dead, Bonaveer?”

  “Turk is the only one unaccounted for. Perhaps he has discovered their trickery before us.” He looks around in an attempt to prove his point. “Look there. Reindeer tracks. I can see evidence of the horses as well. Let’s reconvene with Turk and finish this.”

  “Ai, Bonaveer. This Tom Fuckery was more than I bargained for.”

  “It was more than we’d all bargained for,” says Bonaveer as he spurs his horse on and gallops off.

  (9)

  Latimer had not survived the brutal encounters completely unscathed. His head was grazed or at least he believed it to be merely grazed. Blood continues to seep from the wound in minuscule amounts and proves to be a constant aggravation. It drains into his eyes if he is not diligent enough to continually wipe it from his brow.

  He was also grazed on his oblique. The blood flow, though small, continues unabated. The pain and dizziness in his temples indicate his injuries could be more superficial.

  Although he could have been mistaken, he surmises two of the band are still alive and on the hunt for the family. God help the family if he is wrong. Most of the brutes are long on iron skill but short on scheming, fortitude and intelligence. Their leader however, is a cunning, proficient and seasoned killer. He will be difficult to kill.

  Latimer ventures closer to the wagon and sees the blood bath. Upon reaching the wagon, he spies Arkin, who has been shot multiple times in the torso. Latimer picks up a long rifle near Arkin’s corpse. The smell of the gunpowder from the rifle is fresh, indicating the man had gotten off a shot, most likely before his hand had been shot off. The man was indeed a reckoner and did not falter in his resolve. Latimer kisses the man’s head and makes the sign of the cross. “You were a brave soul. Go now to ascension. May soon be joining you.”

  After mounting his horse, Latimer notices the fresh tracks left by the reindeer. They could not have left more than a few minutes ago. Latimer puts Trale into a full gallop, pondering his wisdom in choosing the resilient mare. Her stamina is unequaled by his other horses. The clearing eventually gives way to the dense forest again and Latimer is forced to slow down or risk a spill.

  Chapter 7: Escape

  Bonaveer’s hearing is especially keen and he is quick to note the echo of another pair of hooves. It’s the old man. He must reach the family and dispatch them or verify Turk has accomplished it. “Troy, he’s coming this way. Go back and kill him.” Troy’s pupils dilate to twice their size. The man’s formidable skills visibly shook him, though he would have been loath to admit it. Bonaveer cannot blame the man for his reluctance. And yet, Troy is dispensable. “Go. Now!”

  “Ai.” He does not agree with Bonaveer’s decision, but knows it is futile to argue. He slows the beast almost to a stop and swings him in a great arc. He would be at a major disadvantage with his foe, since he now must travel uphill. To minimize the risk to himself and give him a better advantage, Troy must venture further into the dense forest. The foe would have no alternative but to follow. Of course, Troy would also be at a disadvantage himself, not being able to gain a clear vantage point.

  (2)

  The large reindeer cannot easily be obscured, much to Latimer’s advantage. Why would they send only one of their men to tassel with me when he had so many disadvantages? Latimer knows the answer at once-simply because the objective is too important.

  In his haste, Latimer had not the foresight to pack an extra case of shells, which could have proven useful at present. He reaches into his petticoat and pulls out approximately six shells. One of his revolvers is spent and he has only three shells in the other. He loads the revolver and silently says a prayer it will be enough. He needs to use the remaining shells sparingly.

  Troy is sweating so profusely his eyes began to sting from the salty bite. His heart is trip-hammering in his chest. This is the most dangerous task he has ever been commanded to do. Still, he ventures closer. Upon catching his first glimpse of the man, he instinctively reaches for his revolver and nervously fires off a couple of shots. They don’t come close.

  (3)

  Latimer is confounded as to why the man would fire from such a distance. He must have known how much of a disadvantage he has, having to traverse uphill. Perhaps he had a bad case of the jitters and is unable to focus. Well, if that is the case, Latimer will make quick work of him. He will not fire such aimless shots. He cannot afford to.

  Troy cannot help himself. He continues to shoot recklessly at his foe. What did he have to lose? His arsenal is full, having two other loaded revolvers and another case of shells. He fires several more successive rounds, hoping for a lucky shot.

  It is unlikely any of these haphazard shots will hit Latimer. Still, he does not believe in taking unnecessary chances. Prudency demands he divert from his path in order to make a more difficult target of himself.

  As if to emphasize this point, a shot rings out and grazes his shoulder. The bastard succeeds in getting off a lucky shot. Latimer winces at the pain, putting a hand to his injury and feeling the blood. Luckily, it is superficial.

  Several more shots ring out and Latimer senses that his foe has discovered he has made a direct hit. He ventures further off the path and deeper into the forest, eliciting protests from Trale, who whines angrily.

  Troy observes Latimer visibly rocks back on his horse and puts a hand to his shoulder. And yet, just as quickly, the foe disappears into the thick of the forest. Troy could barely make out his movements in the forest. It isn’t enough to line up a clear shot.

  Latimer can barely see the man, but he knows where he is. He will use the knowledge he is descending to his clear advantage. Trale continues to protest vehemently, suffering scratches in the deep brush, but Latimer pushes her onward nonetheless. Within a few minutes, Latimer rotates in an eighty-degree arc and approaches a vantage point. He can barely discern the rider, but he’s there. He stops briefly and puts his hand to Trale, trying to comfort the animal.

  He sends him into the hardest gallop as the terrain will allow. The beast senses his desperation and pushes himself hard. As Latimer approaches his foe, he is finally able to line up his sights. The man stops and appears to be scrutinizing the forest i
n an attempt to pinpoint his location. Now is the time. He lines up a shot with his revolver, holds his breath and pulls the trigger.

  Just as Troy turns his head in the direction of Latimer, he is blindsided with a direct hit through the belly, eliciting a loud scream. He instinctively shoots back, but they are haphazard shots. None of them find their mark. Observing the direct hit, Latimer shoots several more rounds at the man, striking his head and neck and ending his cries for good. He slumps off the horse. Latimer approaches him and confirms the kill.

  Although none of his wounds are particularly serious, he has many such wounds compounds his overall condition. Latimer knows it will be difficult to mount an assault on the leader-at least not without an act of subterfuge.

  He dismounts Trale nimbly but winces as he hits the ground. He swats him off. The stallion is a valuable horse and someone will more than likely be the recipient of the great beast. He takes off his own smock and petticoat and changes into the dead man’s attire, a task that makes him wince in pain and gag reflexively. He takes the man’s iron, looks in the man’s saddlebag and confiscates an extra case of shells.

  He approaches the large animal, nervously, having never ridden such a large beast, and one with such a temperament. He puts his hand to the animal and strokes it gently. He whines in nervous anticipation but seems prepared to accept him as rider.

  Without further hesitation, Latimer mounts it. The reindeer jumps up unexpectedly, nearly sending Latimer to the ground. Latimer winces again but this time in excruciating pain. Adrenaline and shock done their job of blunting the pain. Now having worn off, each movement of the reindeer sends torrents of pain shooting throughout his body.

  (4)

  Bonaveer decides it best to wait for Troy. If he had been dispatched by the old man, which is quite probable, he must subdue him. The reindeer can easily intercept the family. The only viable threat at this point is the old man. As of yet, Turk is the only one in his party unaccounted for and he could very well be on his way to complete their objective.