by J. Thorn
The warriors nodded, some leaning forward with their eyes locked on their leader.
“This new clan and T’Yun. They may know little of the lands surrounding Galax. And more importantly, they may know little of the extent of our reach. They have only seen us when we claim our spoils. Woe to them when they see the wave of destruction we shall bring upon them and their children.”
Weapons clanked, and grunts came from the men as they became intoxicated on Ruk’s rhetoric.
“One day, we will storm the gates of Galax and secure its hidden riches for ourselves. We will pull back the veil and conquer the sacred city as we have so many more before it. But that time is not upon us yet. It is still our sacred duty to keep the fortress secure from outside threats until the time comes.”
“What if this is our sign?”
Ruk looked up and nodded at the warrior who had asked the question.
“It could be. The recent unsettled events on the surface and the grumbles beneath it could be a portent of what’s to come. And if that is in fact true, we will storm the city with the same ferocity we have before. Right now, to protect the fortress we must eliminate this new threat gathering at its gate.”
“Or do we storm Galax now, take the sacred city and then defend it against this new threat?”
The warriors always brought perspectives that she hadn’t considered. However, Ruk had to balance her desire for information in her decision—making process with the need to rule with a firm grip. There would come a day when a young, strong Valk warrior would challenge her for the throne. That day was not today and until it happened, she’d rule with her own unique blend of council and abject fear. Her Valk warriors would inform her and bow to her. Always.
“That seems to be a legitimate question. I will need more flesh and a vision to better explore what the signs could mean. It might be a question of order—invading Galax and crushing the invaders. I believe that we will need to do both, but we cannot do them simultaneously. Each objective will require all of our dedicated energy.”
Side conversations began to form and Ruk could feel the renewed power of their concentrated efforts. The lieutenants had come into the palaver after a half—hearted surface campaign where they neither knew the enemy nor why they had been commanded to fight them. And although she had not entirely decided the approach, it seemed as if her warriors had been refocused on whatever bedlam she would command with the wave of her hand.
“When?”
Ruk left her thoughts behind and answered the warrior’s question. “Soon. I need some time to make my decision. For now, ready your warriors and spread the word.”
Chapter 8
Morlan sat in darkness upon the chair that had once been the seat of the head of the Wytheville clan council. The room was much lighter than the one used by the coven; that was a dark and dusty place, just as high up in the building as the council room, but this hall had open windows and balconies that overlooked both the central road leading up to the massive old building, and another that allowed him to see far over the ruined city and to the east, where the road that led all the way to Eliz wound away into the woods.
But neither of these views interested him at that moment. He sat with his back to the sunlight, in the middle of the now nearly empty council chamber and stared down at the object in his hand.
He preferred to leave the item in the pouch on his belt, and his mood was dark already, but this object — half of a silver locket once owned by his sister and the very one that he found so long ago and given to her as a gift — was a reminder of the biggest thorn in his life.
The T’yun.
Everything he’d done so far. The warbands and scouts sent out in all directions, the interrogations, the planning. He’d underestimated them every time. When he and the other Cygoa leaders decided to travel to the south and take back the lands they lost to the T’Yun a generation before, the reports from scouts had told him the numbers of the T’Yun — or at least the clans descended from them — were low. There were hundreds at most. He was a leader of warriors numbering in the thousands, if you combined all the Cygoan clans.
It should have been a slaughter. It should have been easy.
But then the disastrous campaigns had begun. First the battle at the breach where the old bridge collapsed, taking with it the first of his inner circle. Now, after more conflicts that had gone horribly wrong, his greatest, strongest, most loyal and reliable lieutenant was numbered among the dead.
He cursed under his breath. The T’Yun had been disbanded for years. They had fallen upon themselves when no other enemy presented itself. They had broken into a hundred small and fragmented pieces that bickered and fought.
It should have been the perfect time. With the Cygoa finally under one banner they should have marched south and ended it. Taking Wytheville was not, in his opinion, enough. It was but a small part of the greater land.
But this man, Jonah, had brought the clans back together again and now the T’Yun marched together, just like they had years before. Even if they did not take their old name, nearly every one of the old T’Yun clans was now following Jonah.
Morlan gripped the arm of the chair with a clenched fist as he stared at the bracelet. This was an embarrassment that would have to be dealt with before he himself was questioned. He may have all the clans now, but there were murmurs, and he heard them even if the speakers thought he was ignorant.
He still had a great strength in numbers, far greater than the T’Yun must think. A large band of warriors followed Jonah, but the difference was not staggeringly so.
But how many have you already lost? He wondered. Four hundred?
Every battle should have made the T’Yun’s strength lesser, splintering them further with each move. But so far, it just seemed to have drawn them closer together, and now they marched as one horde again.
But at least they still fled. South, the scouts told them, and further south. Into the dense woods. Where could they be going? There may be more to hunt in the forests, but it was closer and closer to the tainted lands.
They were never meant to get even halfway back to the Wytheville Valley. Now they were closer.
If only, he thought. If he had moved quicker, realized the extent of the natural barrier that the breach had created. But he knew it wouldn’t help. It was no good. Too late.
Gaston. Where was that creep of a prophet? When all had been lost in the south the man had vanished. Gone into hiding, no doubt, unwilling to face him for fear of a reprimand.
Another mistake, he thought. You thought you had control of that slime, and you were wrong.
Morlan held the bracelet up into the light.
It was time now, he thought. Time to do what you should have done at the beginning.
“I will find you, sister,” he said aloud. The locket swung in his hand. “Or I’ll find where you rest. One way or another, I will have my answers. You will have your justice.”
Morlan stood, turned, and kicked over the massive chair. No one would sit in the thing, ever again, he decided. It would be burned. Another relic from the age of the T’Yun cast into the flames, as it should be. He gave one more bitter glance at the ancient piece of furniture, then he paced out of the chamber and into the long hall that led all the way to the very gates of Wytheville, outside.
Two of his warriors stood guard. Silent statues, their thoughts hidden. He wondered if even these men doubted him now. But he would change that.
“Call the clans,” he said, as he slowly passed the two men.
They both looked up, frowning. “My Lord?”
“Call the clans.”
“All of them?” asked one of the men.
“All of them,” said Morlan, nodding.
“What would be the message my Lord?”
“We will be leaving in three days.”
“Yes, My lord.”
“It is time,” continued Morlan before either of the warriors could question him. “The T’Yun will be wiped f
rom history. Three days and we march. Every able warrior, except for those needed to guard the camps. Tell every clan that he who chooses not to march chooses to side with the T’Yun and will be dealt with accordingly. I expect everyone to be to be here when we leave.”
“Yes, lord.”
“I will lead the army myself,” said Morlan. “And this time the T’Yun will be annihilated.”
Chapter 9
“I expected you to be gone longer,” said Abernathy.
Seren hurried to keep up with him, glancing back only to watch the wolf pups. They hurried about the ruins, sniffing, investigating, curious and a little more daring than Seren was comfortable with.
Sorcha was ten paces behind her and walking steadily, eyeing the tall man. The older wolf seemed less concerned with the young ones, and Seren wondered if it was just her being over—protective. She couldn’t help it, though. There was, after all, only her among humankind that gave a damn about them. To most they were a dangerous predator, and she had to admit that it wasn’t an unearned title.
“Yes,” Seren replied. “So did I. But even though it’s only been a few weeks it seems a long time.”
“Indeed,” said Abernathy. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed that not much has changed here.”
“Apart from your recent visitors.”
Abernathy paused, but then continued walking. “Yes. A very unfortunate situation. There was little else that could be done.”
“You killed them,” said Seren.
“Yes.” He didn’t look proud of the fact. “Well, I didn’t, personally. But it was me that spotted their movements. Katrina arranged an expedition to deal with them. We did watch them first. We gave them a chance. They were here for three, maybe four days before we approached.”
“You spoke to them?”
Abernathy nodded. “We even warned them to leave. Their reaction was immediately hostile. One of the scouts that we sent out to meet them was quite seriously injured in that first encounter and may be permanently stuck with a limp.”
“Who were they?” asked Seren.
“That, were unsure of. There were no women or children, and we did wonder if they were from your people, but it seemed unlikely that they would have come so far already. We also suspected that it may be your enemies, the Cygoa. So, unsure of how to deal with the threat we watched them for a while using our systems. Some of the cameras have audio capabilities as well as visual.”
“Audio?”
“Sound.” Abernathy used his pointer finger to lightly tap on his right ear. “We can listen as well.”
“I didn’t think the boxes could do that.”
“Not the ones outside of the city, in fact few of those can. Some of the ones inside the larger buildings capture more. It’s difficult to record sound outside, but inside, proper camera placement can cover a lot of conversations.
“Like the theatre?” asked Seren
“Yes, like the theater. Anyway, these newcomers sent out some of the younger ones to scavenge, and we watched. When one of them returned almost empty—handed they decided to end his life there, in the middle of the street.” Abernathy turned to Seren as he walked. “Horrible, yes. As I said, when they first arrived we did wonder if they were to do with your Jonah’s clan, if some of them had found us already after hearing from you. So, we gave them the benefit of our uncertainty and left them for a while, until they did that, killed one of their own.”
“That’s awful,” said Seren. “Jonah wouldn’t allow that.”
Abernathy waved his hand in the air. “I didn’t think your description of the man fitted this sort of behavior. So, we decided we needed to confront them. We couldn’t risk it being those Cygoa. Unfortunately, that has left us little choice as to how to deal with them. So we arranged an armed expedition to call at their camp and we offered them terms. They would leave and not return and we would not harm them.”
“Even that was risky.”
“I agree,” said Abernathy. “They didn’t like that offer and some of them fired arrows through the door and hit one of the scouts in the group in the leg. That made our decision somewhat simpler. If there had been another way we would have taken it, but given the situation, we had little choice, we could not allow a hostile group to leave and bring more of their kin back.”
The pair were silent as they arrived at the base and made their way along the road that led through the tall grass. Seren had forgotten just how far the base was from its gates — easily a mile.
Katrina was already waiting for them outside the entrance to the bunker, along with two armed guards that Seren had not seen when she visited before. She’d only ever seen the older people in their gray uniforms, never armed guards, and these two did not look old, but the visors and body armor they wore could be deceptive. She shrugged it off. If Katrina and Abernathy had not told her everything about the base and its inhabitants, they must have had good reason. She didn’t think it was her right to demand to know everything, and she was fortunate. She thought that they trusted her enough to let her go, to leave the base in search of her own people. They had so much to lose.
“Seren,” said Katrina, stepping forward and embracing her. It was a light hug, and one that Seren thought was tentatively given. “It’s good to see you again. And looking so well.”
“Thank you,” said Seren. “Likewise. I’ve missed this place and all of you.”
“Some here worried that when you left you would not return. But I assured Abernathy that you were much more resourceful than he was giving you credit for. He’s such a worrier. I’m glad to be proven right, in this case.”
“Thank you again,” Seren said, grinning, but then frowned. “But we have little time. I must tell you before they arrive.”
“They?” asked Katrina.
“The clans. My people. You did offer them the use of the city and the ruins should they need it? I hope that hasn’t changed. I didn’t expect it to be so soon, but there have been problems.”
“We did,” said Katrina, now looking thoughtful. “If I remember this — Jonah — that you spoke of. He seems like the kind of leader we can work with, and maybe get along with better than the few encounters we’ve had recently.” She turned to Abernathy. “I did tell her about the recent one. I thought she deserved to know that we had already encountered some of these enemies of hers.”
“Yes, and you were right to do so,” said Abernathy.
“We believe there may still be one or two of them still in the city,” continued Katrina, “Somewhere. I assure you we are doing our best to track them down. There’s certainly not many of them left, and they haven’t managed to get past the perimeter systems yet, so we still intend to catch them and deal with them.” Katrina glanced back toward the main entrance of the bunker. “Come let’s go inside. You must be hungry.”
Seren looked over to Sorcha. The older wolf and the pups had gathered near the edge of the road about thirty feet away and had come no closer. “What about...”
“They will be okay inside the perimeter fence,” said Katrina. “Somebody will bring them some food, but I’m afraid I still can’t allow them into the complex. Not yet. We have nowhere to house them and guarantee safety.”
“Thank you,” said Seren.
“Come,” said Katrina.
Seren hurried to catch up and walked alongside the petite woman that was the leader of the base.
“So your Jonah is bringing your clan to us.”
“Not just our clan,” said Seren.
Katrina stopped, her expression more curious than concerned. “The other clans?”
“The allies of the Elk,” said Seren. “There’s been a war in the East, with some things that come from under the ground. The different clans had to band together to stay alive.”
“How many are we talking about?” asked Katrina.
“I don’t know the exact numbers, but hundreds, maybe a thousand.”
“That’s a lot of people. Like I said before.
We can’t provide food for them, but they are welcome to use the ruins as long as they stay out of the base.”
Seren shrugged. “I didn’t know where else to tell them to go. On one side we have these creatures that live in caves, and on the other it’s the Cygoa.”
“I understand,” said Katrina, “and we will not turn them away, but I must meet with this leader of yours, this Jonah. So that he understands fully where your people can go and where they must not.”
Chapter 10
How did this happen?
He did his best to separate himself from the idiots and escape into the wilderness, happy to live out his life without ever speaking to another human being. And yet, Frantic was right behind him stepping on his boots and tripping over his own stupid, unending string of words.
Loner wasn’t sure why he let the midget join him. They had been heading north from the battle of the causeway and several times he had gripped his dagger and turned to pull it across Frantic’s throat. It would have been easier that way. Or at least quieter.
“You know this trail, right?”
“Shut your fucking mouth for three damn minutes. You think you can do that?”
Frantic winked. “Yeah, of course. There was this one time when I went 17 days without—"
Loner spun around, this time with his blade out. The early morning sun glinted off the polished steel.
“Okay, okay. I get it. But this trail, you know it?”
Did he? Loner had walked hundreds if not thousands of miles of trails hunting buck and humans alike. The foliage changed by the season, both the colors and the smell. There had been some paths in the far north that had been so well—worn that he knew them with his eyes closed. But they were far from those lands which didn’t make much of a difference to Loner. He had no intention of returning to where he had come from or searching for a place where people would be.
“Keep the sun over your shoulder and make sure we keep going north.”
Frantic nodded as he took a swig of water from his canteen while listening to Loner’s instructions.