by M C Rooney
Renee was wearing her green jacket with pride and wore a slouch hat that she said had belonged to one of her ancestors and had been worn to one of the wars that the old civilization seemed to have all the time.
“Yes, Breaker,” Tom replied and took out his spyglass from his saddle bag.
For the last two days, Tom, Renee, and Locke had been riding northwards in search of this rumoured tower. They had ridden past many small towns with very small populations, and they had talked to some people and informed them of what was happening in the old capital. But for the most part, people ran away from them and hid. They obviously thought they were bandits of some sort, and Tom felt an overwhelming urge to reassure them that the Southern Rangers were there to protect them, not to hurt. But looking at their scared faces, Locke had told him just to nod and smile and continue riding on.
For two days they had been riding, and Tom had spent at least one day adjusting his hat and sword. He was wearing his grandfather’s hat and carrying his sword, he thought in amazement.
As a kid, he had looked at his father’s samurai sword and known he was not worthy enough to inherit it. Surely, as the last child and having three capable older brothers, he would be the last choice at carrying on his family’s legacy, but somehow, his father had seen something in him that Tom didn’t recognize in himself and had passed the sword on to him.
Then his dear aunt had given him her father’s hat. Tom was mortified when he learned that the hat he always admired was his grandfather’s, and that it had been given to his aunt in such a tragic way. He felt so ashamed that he had made his aunt cry like that. His aunt, who he always thought was so strong that she could survive anything, had burst into tears when retelling the story of his grandfather’s last days. Tom’s mother and father had been on that trip as well. His father always looked sad when he recalled seeing his own father die, and his mother would always shed tears when she talked about her uncle’s and grandfather’s death. She seemed to have been especially close to her grandfather, who had been, by all accounts, quite a character.
Tom looked through the brass telescope, which was another family treasure, and scanned the horizon. This was old farming land and was mostly flat, but in the distance, he could see the mountain ranges, and behind them, what appeared to be a major storm on the horizon. He saw a flicker of movement off to the west and looked harder in that direction. Yes, there were people running around a house.
“More locals to the west, Breaker,” Tom said.
“Are you sure they’re locals?” said Renee.
Tom looked again. It was quite a distance away, so he could not see their bodies clearly, but they appeared to be wearing skin-coloured clothes or …
“I think they might be half naked.”
“Get off your horses now, you two,” Locke commanded, and Tom and Renee quickly did what they were told.
They walked their horses farther down the road until they were directly adjacent to the strangers, then Locke told them to move off into the nearby tree line for cover.
“What do you see now, Tom?” Locke asked.
Tom took another look and saw at least a dozen men outside a house. They wore fur trousers only, and their skin was painted.
“They are definitely wearing very little clothes,” he confirmed, and then watched as the house began to break out in large flames.
“They’re burning the house, Breaker,” said Tom in shock. Why burn a perfectly good home?
“Yes, I can see that too, with the naked eye,” Locke replied with a grimace. “Can you see any locals?”
Tom looked again for a moment, then saw two people being dragged out of the house.
“Two people, a man and a woman, I think,” he said.
He then saw what appeared to be a local man get his throat cut.
“They just killed the man,” he said in a croaky voice.
Renee gave a sharp intake of breath.
He then saw a man beat the woman bloody, and then, ripping off her clothes, he proceeded to—
His breathing was ragged as he abruptly handed the spyglass to Locke with a shaky hand. He had just realised that some people are not as honourable and kind as the family and friends he was blessed to have in his life. Tom had just taken his first view of the darker side of humanity. He watched as The Breaker’s face went pale in response to what he saw through the telescope.
Locke then handed the spyglass back to him. “We have orders to seek this tower,” he said, looking at the house burning in the distance. “But our oaths as rangers are to protect.”
He looked over at Renee and Tom.
“There are twelve of them,” he said.
“I’m ready,” said Renee.
“Me too,” Tom added.
“You are both well trained, but killing someone is another matter entirely,” Locke replied.
“We have to see battle at some time in our life,” Renee said logically.
“I can’t walk away from this, Breaker,” said Tom. “I just can’t.”
His voice rang with determination as his big hands clenched into fists.
Locke looked at his young friends and hesitated. Lily had ordered him to find out everything he could about the tower. That was his mission and his first priority. And there was also his concern at keeping her nephew alive. He had the feeling Lily would never forgive him if the boy was killed, but what those men, or should he say animals, were doing to that woman was an abomination. They deserved to be punished.
He weighed up these thoughts …
“Mount up,” he ordered. “Place your hats in your saddle bags, as we will be riding fast at the first charge.”
Tom and Renee nodded and did as he ordered. They looked nervous but determined.
“You were trained in the Taylor-method of fighting, so I expect at least six of the Westerners to be dropped by the time we arrive.”
The two youngsters nodded and unlimbered their bows.
“Renee, Tom and I will engage the fighters at close range. You stay at least a hundred paces behind and kill those you think are the most danger to us.”
Renee opened her mouth to object, but Locke overrode her.
“Do you follow orders, Ranger?” he said in a firm voice.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Tom had never seen his friend give up so easily.
“Let’s go, then,” he said, and the three of them moved off at a canter towards the burning farmhouse.
Tom’s breathing was almost frantic as he rode towards the coming battle, but what his aunt had taught him through martial arts and mental discipline allowed him to steady his breath and focus his mind. He looked across at Renee and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She smiled back, but her cheesy grin was not there just yet.
“Faster,” ordered Locke, and they kicked their horses into a run.
Tom could see the men clearly now. He counted ten.
“Two are missing, Breaker,” he shouted to their leader.
“Renee, after the first engagement, you look for those two.”
Renee nodded her head to The Breaker. She even looked pleased that she had been given greater responsibility.
“Knees tighter, and lift up your bows,” ordered Locke as they came within sight of the men.
“Aim,” Locke yelled out as the horses began to run at full speed.
Tom noticed that some of the men had turned at the sound of the horses’ hooves thudding on the gravel road.
“Loose,” shouted Locke, and the three of them shot arrows into the bodies of the nearest enemy.
Tom now saw nearly all had turned and faced the horses, but one man was still lying on top of the woman.
“Arrows,” shouted Locke as they nocked another arrow to the bow. The movement of the horses made it hard to hit a target perfectly, but after years of practice, it became second nature to them to at least hit the torso.
“Loose,” Locke shouted, and they hit another three of the people from the west
.
“Renee,” said Locke as he pointed to his left, and Renee swept her horse around the building.
Tom saw that the remaining men had now had time enough to take out their weapons, which seemed to be short knives or long swords, but no arrows. Locke saw this too.
“Slow and dismount off the road,” ordered Locke.
Whilst the Westerners may have expected Tom and The Breaker to slow to a stop then dismount, the order ‘slow and dismount’ meant something different entirely for the rangers.
Taking another calm breath, or maybe it was just a thought in his mind, Tom followed Locke’s order and did what he trained for years to do.
Reining in his horse from a flat-out run to a fast canter, Tom held his sword safely, hoped there were no hidden rocks, and jumped off Pips onto the soft grassy fields outside of the gravel road. He rolled and stood up with the momentum he had and ran at the Westerners growling like a madman whilst unsheathing his sword.
He swung his sword at the first man and hit the defending sword so hard that the Westerner’s weapon broke, and with a following swing, he gutted the man from hip to shoulder.
After killing the first man, he turned his attention to the second, who ran at him with what looked to be a small axe. Tom stepped outside his swing and ran his sword down the back of the overbalanced man’s calf. As the man fell to his knees, he pivoted behind him and took his head off with a clean sweep. Tom looked over at The Breaker, who had killed two of the Westerners himself, one of whom was the rapist. He could feel his own lips tight against his skull in a grimace of pure anger. Tom then finished a few of the wounded Westerners off with a quick stab, and counted ten dead bodies. So there were still two enemies missing. Renee then appeared, riding around the farmhouse, and said she had killed one, but another had escaped.
“Spyglass,” Locke shouted out as he started retrieving their arrows. Tom ran to his horse and reached in the saddlebags and began looking at the outer areas, and after a few moments, he saw one of the Westerners running away in the distance.
“There!” he pointed.
“Got it,” said Renee.
“That’s a long way,” said Tom, feeling doubtful.
“No problem,” she said as she nocked an arrow, and after a moment, let it fly.
Tom watched as the arrow flew through the air. It took the Westerner through the shoulder, but he kept on running.
“Meh, it’s a windy day,” said Renee with a grin.
But a part of Tom wanted to hunt him down and finish the job. He looked back at the dead, and something in his mind warned him that all was not well. He took a closer look at the bodies, and the number forty-seven sprang to his mind.
“Locke,” he shouted as he pointed at the old man he had just killed.
The Breaker jumped back as the old man rose from the dead, and with a quick thrust of his sword, Locke punched a hole straight through his eye and out the back of his head.
“Thanks, Tom,” he said with a nod.
“You’re welcome,” replied Tom weakly, for he had just noticed the terrified woman still lying on the ground.
Locke Stoker watched as Tom Dayton walked over to the poor girl as she scrambled back away from him in terror. He stood in disbelief as Tom got down on his knees and sheathed his weapons and placed them at her feet with a bow, almost as in an offering to her.
“I’m sorry we were too late,” he said to her with unshed tears in his eyes. “And I’m so sorry that some of my gender can be so cruel and evil to women.”
The woman had stopped scrambling away from him but still looked back at him in wariness.
“But I am a ranger from Hobart, and we swore an oath to protect our people,” Tom continued. “Please do not fear me or my friends.”
Tom carefully removed his jacket and offered it to her with averted eyes so she could cover her nakedness. She put on the jacket and looked at him with scared eyes, but the distrust and terror appeared to have gone.
“Do you have kin in this land?” Tom asked.
“A cousin,” she said in a trembling voice. “A cousin in a small town five kilometres to the south.”
“We would like to take you to them,” he replied softly, “after we bury your …?”
“Father,” she replied as tears fell from her eyes.
Tom nodded sadly.
“Breaker,” said Tom as he turned to Locke.
“Yes, mate?” Locke replied.
“I think we have some shovels tied to our saddles.”
“We will get them now, Tom.”
“And we need to gather the enemies’ weapons and supplies.”
“Will do, Tom.” and as Locke walked back to retrieve their horses with Renee he realised that Tom was now giving out the orders.
“Just like his aunt,” he murmured to himself.
The Tasmanian Midlands
Sam walked towards the tower, as this was usually where Hockey made his home. Doubt crept into his mind as he saw many of the tribe glare at him as if he had done something wrong, or perhaps it was his paranoia, but the decision of passing up the opportunity of disappearing back home was looking like a bad one.
“I’m after Hockey,” he said to two of the leader’s guards. They both turned around.
It was Frank and Fred Carter, Sam thought with a sigh. The two men were around forty and were amongst the most miserable pricks he had ever met. Unlike their three younger brothers, who were well-liked and respected, these two were called Fuck and Head behind their backs. It was rude, yes, but it was also very well deserved. It was only because their father was well regarded and a close friend of Hockey that they seemed to be in the inner circle, and Sam thought that Frank had ambitions to become the leader one day.
Frank scowled and pointed to the tower as expected and said, “It’s your funeral, mate.”
Not a good sign.
“We will be sure that you burn well,” said Fred spitefully.
“Always a pleasure,” replied Sam and bumped straight past them and walked onwards to the tower.
With a growing feeling of unease, Sam continued until he came across Hockey leaning over his youngest son, Buzz. He wished his brother, Alex, were nearby to back him up, or maybe Chris or Jeremiah. He even wished his dumb friend Ian could be with him now.
One of the nearby guards whispered something to Hockey, and the big old man stood up and looked directly towards Sam.
This is not good at all, Sam thought with a strong sense of foreboding.
Walking closer, he saw that Buzz was lying on some blankets and looked to be completely unconscious, there was a massive bruise on his chest, but he did seem to be alive.
Where is his suit? he wondered.
“Where were you?” Hockey roared at him, and Sam only then realised that Hockey had walked up to him and was screaming in his face.
“Where was I?” Sam said, dumbfounded.
“Why didn’t you die protecting my son, you fucking coward!” Hockey laid one of his massive fists into the side of his head.
Sam flew backwards and hit the ground hard, but instead of begging for forgiveness for something that was beyond his control, something snapped in his mind, and he slowly stood up and spat a mouthful of blood at Hockey.
“Where was I!” he screamed back at Hockey as the image of the zombies in the trench flew across his mind. “I was with your son, that’s where I was!”
Hockey pointed at Buzz and began to say something but Sam overrode him.
“Not that son lying there,” he said, looking at Buzz, “the dumb fucking cunt of a son out there.” He pointed to the eastern hills.
“Where is he?” Hockey asked. He was still angry, but a bit less off the charts than he had been a minute ago.
“He ran away,” said Sam in disgust. While Hockey’s temper seemed to have abated a little, Sam’s temper had just gotten worse. “Yes, let me tell you what Lord fucking Rodent did,” he said as he walked closer to Hockey. “First of all, your son, Buzz, who is th
e one everybody here would be honoured to follow, ordered his brother to take me and my men on the right flank to attack Lord Feral whilst his men attacked from the left.” Sam was enjoying this; after three long years of putting up with the complete stupidity and incompetence from Rodent, he finally got to say what was on his mind. If he was to die here, well, at least he would have had the chance to vent his hatred for Hockey’s eldest son. “After promising to do as his brother ordered, he then decided to attack Lord Feral front on. No arrows from a hundred paces, no finesse at all, just run at the enemy … uphill.”
Hockey’s temper had disappeared, and he looked at Sam with only interest now.
“So we did as he ordered and ran at her,” Sam continued. “She killed a few of our men on the flanks, and Lord Rodent killed a few of our men from behind.”
Hockey looked confused, so Sam explained it to him, making no effort to show respect. “He couldn’t keep up with us, so the lightning he threw hit his own men.”
Sam was delighted that Hockey now looked ashamed.
“Then, we all fell into a trench that Lord Feral had prepared for us,” he continued, “and it was full of zombies. And do you know what your son did then?”
Hockey didn’t reply; he only looked at the ground. Sam told him anyway.
“He screamed like a baby and fired lightning at anything that moved. Anything!” he finished in a strong voice.
“What did you do?” Hockey said quietly.
“I did the only thing I could,” said Sam. “I hit the ground and hoped he wouldn’t kill me too.”
Perhaps Hockey could have called him out for some sort of cowardice at this admission, but he didn’t. He knew the power of those suits.
“I listened to a further battle, and so did your son,” Sam continued. “Then, I heard some people who were with Lord Feral say they were taking her north. Your son scrambled out of the trench when they left and headed south. Then I got out and came directly back to you.”
Everybody was silent now, awaiting Hockey’s reaction. They had watched and listened as one man had said what was on everybody’s mind. Rodent was an idiot, an idiot who did not deserve to lead.