Hurricane

by Michael Wisehart

  Reevie grabbed a couple of knapsacks and handed me one of the them. “Here, fill that with as many bandages as you can. Whenever Spats gets that look in his eyes, I can just about count on burning through at least half my supply.”

  He pointed to a large chest near the back of the room. I opened it to find layers of bleached wrapping already cut into strips. Reevie really knew how to be prepared. The way things seemed to work around here, you’d need to be in order to survive.

  “When you’re done with that, start loading the jars from those shelves over there.” He pointed at one of the two cabinets on the other side of the room. We spent the rest of the morning packing supplies for whatever retaliation Spats had in mind. At the sound of my stomach growling for the third time, Reevie had us stop for lunch. We left the supplies sitting near the door and headed for the dining hall.

  The entire Temple was alive with excitement. Mixed emotions could be seen on the faces of the kids we passed. Those in black vests looked eager, others–not so much. A few looked determined; most looked worried, and then there were those–like me–who just looked confused. What weapons they carried consisted mostly of wooden clubs. Some had small pocket knives, perfect for chores but woefully inadequate for armed combat. I spotted a few daggers haphazardly tucked into belts and boots. Each of the Guard wore a shortsword and by the way they carried themselves they knew how to use them. Unfortunately, the way the rest of the tribe’s soldiers—beaters Reevie called them—appeared to be fumbling over each other just trying to get from one end of the hall to the other, they looked like they’d be more of a danger to themselves than to anyone else.

  We reached the dining hall and Reevie found us an empty spot at one of the back tables. We sat down to whatever Cook had been working on this morning. The broth was hot, but the single piece of meat I found in mine was chewy at best. Regardless of the quality, I found it remarkable that they were able to scrounge up enough food to keep everyone fed.

  The tension was building. Everyone was on edge. The nervous glances passed between tables, the stiff way the kids slurped their lunch, it was all too familiar and I found my thoughts drifting to home.

  I remembered how I used to be before a competition: the shake in my hands, the rush of adrenaline, pondering all the ways things could go wrong. I had to learn to block everything out in order to focus on what was important.

  “. . . has been coming for some time.”

  I lowered my spoon and looked across the table where Reevie had already finished his soup and was apparently carrying on a one-sided conversation with me. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

  He sighed and pushed his bowl away. “I see the madness has spread to you too. I said that Avalanche has been sending their spies into our territories for months, trying to determine where our food stores are hidden. Obviously, they must have found one last night.

  “Spats has been threatening to retaliate for some time, but up until now he hasn’t had a strong enough reason to justify an all-out attack against another tribe, which is exactly what the Guild will demand once they find out.”

  “The Guild. That’s where the heads of all the tribes meet, correct?”

  “Yes. They set the rules and the punishment for breaking them.”

  “Then why doesn’t Spats just tell them what Avalanche is doing?”

  “Duh,” Reevie said with a tone that let me know I must be asking another stupid question. “It would be our word against theirs. Spats isn’t stupid. Trust me. He’s already working on a way to get Avalanche back.”

  It was hard for me to reconcile Reevie’s confidence with that redheaded weasel of a kid I’d met earlier. He didn’t look like a mastermind of mayhem.

  I drained what was left of the heavily peppered broth and the two of us made our way back to the Healer’s quarters. I closed the door. “Will we be expected to fight? How will we stay out of the battle so we can tend to the wounded?”

  Reevie made a face, indicating he thought I was being stupid. “Do I look like I could do any sort of fighting?”

  I shook my head.

  “Spats likes to keep me with him. Don’t worry. The Guard will protect us.”

  “The Guard? If the Guard and the chief stay out of the fight, then who’s leading it.”

  “Leading it? Why do you need someone leading it? Spats tells the beaters where to attack, and they attack. Just stay with me and we’ll be fine. Now where did I put that liniment?” With that, he turned and began rummaging through one of the large satchels.

  Reevie’s words flew in the face of everything I’d been taught about strategic warfare, but then again, this wasn’t exactly what I would call a true war. Maybe things were different here on the streets. This tribe had been around for some time, as Reevie had pointed out, so maybe they knew what they were doing. As long as I could make sure that Reevie was safe, the rest didn’t matter.

  “Where’s the armory?” I was growing bored of watching Reevie double check our supplies and needed something to do.

  “Why do you need to know? I just told you healers aren’t expected to fight.”

  “When it comes to fighting, what’s expected isn’t always what comes to pass. What would happen if the Avalanche beaters managed to break through the ranks? Do healers have immunity?”

  Reevie stopped his packing. There was a concerned look on his face. “Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. Grab me something too.”

  Other than a small knife I had found lying around our quarters at the granary, which I had sewn into my jerkin, I was nakedly unprepared. Red and her tribe had taken my weapons along with everything else. Then it dawned on me and my head shot up.

  “Who’s Avalanche’s chief?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I was excited at the prospect of possibly getting my father’s ring back and dish out some retribution of my own. There was no way I was going to sit out on a fight against Red.

  “Cutter. Avalanche has been a rival of ours since before I came here. I think it’s because our two tribes share the same border. They have the region northeast of us. They aren’t as big as we are, but they’ve grown desperate of late. Ever since the patrollers added another station to Cheapside, their pickings have been difficult to come by.”

  I sighed and started for the door. “Which way to the armory?”

  “It’s in the next building over.” He turned around and pointed. “Make a left out the door. Then, at the end of the corridor make a right, and then another left, and that will take you outside to the connecting walk on the back. Once you reach the next building, go inside and take the hallway on the right. The armory will be the second . . . no, third room on the left.”

  I nodded as though what he had said made perfect sense. I left Reevie to his work and shut the door on my way out. I figured I’d just follow everyone else. If I got lost, someone would point me in the right direction.

  It didn’t take long to wind my way through the open passageways and out to the covered walkway between buildings. Crossing the walkway, I stepped inside the next structure. There was a group of kids coming in behind me so I moved to the side and they rushed past. I followed them down the hall, hoping they were heading to the armory as well.

  Sure enough, they entered the third room on the left. Before I made it to the entrance, I could hear complaints wafting from the open door.

  “Ah, man, all the good ones have been taken . . .”

  “I told you we should have come here first . . .”

  “. . . I was hungry.”

  They passed me on the way out, shoulders slumped. I guessed they must have pilfered what was left of the weapon’s cache, which wasn’t much, since they only carried a couple of small clubs no larger than Cook’s ladle, a leather slingshot, and a wooden mallet.

  I stepped inside. The room was in shambles. I had to step over some of the smaller weapon’s racks that had been tossed to the ground after their contents were confiscated. The pegs dotting the walls were bare, and one of th
e racks at the back had been torn apart. It seemed someone thought a nice stick of wood was better than nothing. It was a depressing sight. I should have come sooner.

  “Hello, Grey Eyes.” The voice came from behind and I jumped.

  I turned to find Sapphire standing there with a cheeky grin on her face. At least, I thought it was a grin. Along with her black vest and short sword, she had rubbed some kind of dark paint across her face. She looked scary, which I guess was the point. I was surprised at how close she had gotten without me knowing.

  “Guess I should have gotten here earlier,” I said as I took another look around the empty room.

  “Don’t you worry, Grey Eyes. I’ll watch out for you.” She slowly circled my position, studying my hands, the position of my feet, the balance of my stance. I felt like a new trinket in a shop window she was deciding whether to buy.

  “I take it you’re one of the Guard,” I said, trying to break the awkwardness of her stare. “I noticed your vest, but I haven’t seen any other . . . uh–”

  “Girls?” she offered with a wink. “I’m the only girl in the Guard. Those blockheads would be lost without me. They’re pretty good in a brawl, but when it comes to finesse, I’m in a whole different league.”

  Somehow, I believed her. She reminded me of some of the Upakan girls back home, with a bit less boasting.

  “So where did you learn to fight?”

  “My father’s a sergeant in the lancer corps. Taught me everything he knows.”

  “You have a father? Why are you living here and not with him?”

  She turned her head and stared at one of the empty racks on the wall to my left. There was a strange look on her face that warned me not to push. When she didn’t answer I decided to try something else. “Where’s your mother?” As soon as I asked, I wished I hadn’t.

  “Dead.” There was no hesitation in her voice at all.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” she hissed. “She was weak.”

  My mouth hung open slightly. I was too stunned to move.

  “My father wanted a boy, and when he didn’t get one he figured he’d do his best to turn me into one. He beat me if I couldn’t keep up with the other boys. He beat me if I cried. He beat me if I didn’t counter his blocks quickly enough, and again if I did. He used to shave my head and wrap my chest in order to hide who I was.” The barely controlled rage on her face had me glancing around the room for the closest thing I could get my hands on in case she decided to attack. “Now, I grow it as long as I want.” She tugged on her blonde braid to emphasize the point.

  I didn’t say anything. I was as still as Egla’s statue.

  “But as bad as he was, my mother was worse.” She turned and looked at me, her bright azure eyes a stark contrast against the dark markings on her face. “You want to know why?”

  I didn’t think I did, but I was too afraid to say no, so I offered a quick nod.

  “Because she did nothing. She was my mother. She was supposed to protect me. Instead, she left us in the middle of the night and never came back.” Sapphire sneered and turned her attention back to the wall. “Once my skills grew to the point that my father was no longer able to beat me, I ran away. I was afraid he would try to kill me to cover his embarrassment at having a daughter who was better than he was.”

  I could relate, not about my father beating me–I got plenty of that from Instructor Dorrin–but about not having a family around. “I ran away from home as well,” I said, hoping to find some common ground. “Although, truth be told, I wasn’t given much of a choice.”

  “Well, I say hang all parents. They aren’t much good for anything anyway. The only person you can depend on in life is yourself.”

  I thought it was sad philosophy to live by, though I could see the value in it. “Sounds like something my father would have said . . . the depending on yourself bit, that is.” I leaned against the doorframe. “I have to admit, after spending the last six months traveling by myself from one side of Aldor to the other, it’s a lonely road.”

  She glanced my way. “Perhaps. But it’s a much safer one.”

  “Well, I prefer to take the risk.” Reevie’s face popped into mind and I smiled. Finding a friend like that had proven to be one of the best gifts I’d ever been given.

  Sapphire crossed her arms with a humph. “I hear you’re going to be joining us on our little adventure this evening. I guess you can’t have too many healers around, especially ones that can keep up. Don’t get me wrong. Reevie’s a sweetheart and all, but his condition . . .” She shrugged. “It makes him a liability.”

  My fists clinched. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to goad me because of my previous comment or if she really meant it. “Reevie’s worth more than a hundred of you. What he has up here,” I said, pointing to my head, “is far more valuable than anything else. Anyone can swing a sword or a club and call themselves a Guard, but no one here can do what he can.” It started to realize I was starting to feel like the protective older brother where Reevie was concerned.

  Sapphire studied my face for a moment without saying anything. Then she smiled. “You care for the cripple. That’s good. That means you’ll be willing to protect him.” She turned and left the room, leaving me to scratch my head. She stopped in the hall and cast a glance back over her shoulder. “I’m watching you, Grey Eyes. And I think there’s more to you than you let on.” She smiled with another wink, and then disappeared down the hall.

  I had a feeling she was going to be trouble. I just wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  Patience was not a virtue I had very much use for. After my futile trip to the armory, there wasn’t much left but to sit around and wait for something to happen. The battle couldn’t come soon enough. There was a deathly calm that lay like a thick fog across the Temple as the tribe went about their tasks in silence. Even Reevie, who was normally bursting at the seams to show me some new herb he had acquired or disgusting sickness he’d come across, was unusually quiet.

  The sky had begun to color, signaling the end of another day. I wished I was on my way back to the granary for a nice supper, but instead, here I was getting ready for war. I scrunched my face. I had to be one of the unluckiest kids alive.

  Supper had consisted of cold leftovers from lunch, along with a small slice of dark rye for dipping. No one seemed all that bothered. They were all too busy waiting for Spats to call a gathering.

  When the word finally came, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted. It broke through the Temple like a whirlwind. The kids crowded around the front gate waiting for their orders. On their arms, they wore simple strips of blue cloth, to make it easier to tell which kids to bash once the fighting started. Reevie knotted one on my arm just above the armpit

  Anxious chatter spread through the ranks as they waited to hear how their fearless leader was going to deliver their much desired retribution. The Guard, in circle formation, pushed their way to the front, knocking aside anyone stupid enough to get in their way. At the center of the small procession was Spats. His weasel-eyes were fixed straight ahead.

  Even I was feeling a certain level of excitement at the anticipation of a battle. It was a sensation I was well acquainted with. I was curious to hear what Spats had in mind, what tactics he would use to punish the offending tribe. Keeping Reevie close, I pushed my way to the front so we could hear the orders. Reevie had one of the satchels we had prepared earlier that morning, and I carried the other two. Each one was bursting with the supplies we anticipated would be needed to treat the wounded.

  “Hurricane,” Spats called out above the crowd as he raised his hands to gather their attention, as if there was a single member of the tribe that wasn’t already hanging on his every word. “The time has come!” Shouts went up from all around the gatehouse as the kids raised their makeshift bludgeons, staves, and spears into the air and cheered. I couldn’t really figure out what they were cheering about. All he had said was, ‘The time had come.’ I
could have told them that myself.

  Sapphire, with her painted face, was standing off to the right side of the Guard. She was looking right at me. At least, from where we were standing I thought she was. It was hard to tell in the fading light. The torches on the perimeter wall were being lit, and casting elongated shadows on the faces of those gathered around.

  “I have a plan,” Spats said with a raised voice. He stood on a stool between the two large boys that had been guarding his door earlier that day. It was the only way he could be seen and heard by everyone.

  “He has a plan,” I repeated to Reevie with a hint of mockery. “Well, I’m glad someone does.”

  “Shhh, I’m trying to listen.”

  “Do you want me to stick you on my shoulders so you can see him too?” He answered me with a swift elbow to the ribs.

  “Tonight, we are going to teach Avalanche what happens to anyone who steals from us! By the time we’re through with them they’ll wish they’d never set foot in our territory! After tonight, they never will again!” The crowd roared. Spats started hopping up and down on his stool, building them into mass frenzy. “We’re going to cut their feet!”

  Everything went silent.

  Confused looks passed through the ranks. Finally, someone in the back hollered, “Cut their feet!” One by one, others joined in until the entire assembly was shouting, “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!” They jumped up and down, pumping weapons and fists into the air. “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!”

  I felt like I was watching the beginning of a mass hysteria, a deadly outbreak of complete insanity. Reevie nearly punched me in the nose with his own fist as he tried joining in. “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!”

  “Cut their feet? Cut whose feet?” And with what, I wondered. This is madness. There were maybe eight good blades in the bunch. What were they going to cut people’s feet with? What was wrong with these kids? I understood the concept of rousing your fighters before a battle, but this was ridiculous. So far I hadn’t heard a single shred of evidence that spoke to an actual plan. What was the goal? How were they going to accomplish it? I figured Spats was saving the details until the end, so I listened.