Lord of the High Reaches

by James Haddock

  He shook his head.

  "Can you travel?"

  "How far?"

  "I have a place a few miles from here."

  "Yeah, I can make it that far."

  He took his saddlebags off the horse. Since he was limping, I picked them up along with his pack, and we began walking. Along the way, my fur turned white to match the snow.

  “Neat trick,” he commented, looking sideways at me. I just smiled.

  Resting once, he made the trip without help. Although by the time we got to the cave, he was sweating a great deal.

  "Help me down to the river. I want to kneel in the icy water to stop the swelling in my knee and ankle."

  At the edge of the water, we got his boots and pants off and he waded out into the frigid water, taking gasping breaths. He stood there until he began shivering.

  "That's enough," I said. "You're making yourself too cold."

  He nodded and shuffled stiffly out of the water. I picked up his pants and boots and helped him the rest of the way to the cave. Once there, I wrapped him in an animal skin blanket and sat him by the fire.

  Chapter 2

  He was still shivering, so I added a few sticks to the fire. I dumped the pack out, picked up a small pot, and went to the river for water. There were now tracks leading to the cave, but it couldn't be helped. It would snow again soon and cover them … hopefully.

  I set the pot on the fire to boil. Once boiling, jerky and roots were added. The hot broth would warm him. While waiting for the broth, as I now had company, I put on my kilt. Seemed like the polite thing to do.

  "My name's Windford, Michael Windford. Thank you for saving me. I was in a bit of a tight spot."

  "Pleased to meet you, Michael Windford. My name's Cam. Glad I could help. Those men seemed to have it in for you."

  "Not just me, anyone from the Eastern Kingdom, especially along the Iwestern mountain range. They were from the Western Kingdom. We've had border disputes for some years, but things have become more heated of late."

  "What's the fight about?"

  He frowned, "You're new to this land, I take it?"

  "I'm from much further south."

  "It must be far south, indeed. Anyway, the fighting is over land and resources, as most conflicts are. Well, that or religion."

  I began looking through and laying out my spoils while he talked.

  "My family owns a good bit of the land east of here. Our business is timber and mining, though I have little to do with the business. I enjoy the wilds too much to be stuck in an office. Who do you scout for if I may ask?"

  I looked at him across the fire.

  "Forgive me if I offend, but you are a C-cat, correct?"

  "I am."

  "I have, of course, heard of C-cats but have never actually seen one, let alone met one. The ones I have heard of work as scouts, which is why I asked."

  "I scout for no one," I said, pouring a cup of hot broth and handing it to him. "I'm traveling north. Me stumbling into you and your friends was just chance."

  "And a lucky chance it was for me. And as you are scouting for no one, I'd like to hire you to take me home. I could probably make it, but it would be easier with two of us."

  "How far away do you live?"

  "Ten days northeast of here. Trust me, my family will make it worth your time."

  I nodded. "You rest. A storm will hit soon, so we have time."

  "A storm? Are you sure?"

  I smiled. "Pretty sure."

  After his second cup of broth, Michael was no longer shivering and had dozed off. I left the fire burning larger than normal and slept close to the door flap where I’d be cooler. I didn't fall asleep for a while, thinking of his offer. I would have helped him home regardless, but I might as well get something for it.

  * * *

  As predicted, the storm hit us just after midday and continued off and on for the next two. We sat by the fire, and Michael talked. I listened, cleaning and repairing my new gear. I now had four steel knives and two short guns with plenty of powder and shot.

  "The two guns are decent, but if you would like, when we get to my home you can trade those two for one really good one. Maybe even one of the new types that has grooved barrels. They make the shot more accurate and add range."

  I had no idea what grooved barrels were, but Michael seemed enthused by the idea. By now, I had moved on to checking out the holsters. Putting them on, I didn't like the way they hung down my legs, so Michael helped me make them into what he called shoulder holsters. I liked them better; it was a more comfortable fit. Claws in a fight were good, but a gun easily carried in a holster added an option. I began wearing it when I went outside to ensure no one was getting close. Snow or no snow, security had to be maintained.

  "So, your father was human, a scout-trader. Is that right?" he asked.

  "Yes, well, that's what he called himself, a scout-trader. We spent a lot of time in the forest with my uncle, who was a cat."

  "And the clan council would not let you test because you were of mixed blood? Their loss, my friend,” he said, shaking his head. “Family and business can be tricky to navigate. It seems most everyone has a hidden agenda, and most of it involves a lust for money, land, or both."

  "Do you include yourself in that assessment?" I asked with slightly raised brows.

  He smiled. "If I'm being honest, yes to some extent. I view money as a tool, neither good nor bad, but one must have it to prosper in life. Money in and of itself does nothing. It needs to be put to work, invested to make more. Money needs to work as hard, or harder, than its owner."

  I frowned. "I understand your words, but I don't think I get your true meaning."

  "If one has money—gold for instance—if you spent it only on food, that would be a good use of it for a time, then it would be gone. If, on the other hand, you took part of that money and bought a cow and sold her milk; or chickens and sold their eggs; or a sow and sold her pigs, all those things make you more money, so you don't run out. I know it's complicated. You think on it, and we'll talk more about it later."

  What would I do with a cow or a chicken but eat them? I wondered. This didn't make sense to me. I shrugged.

  We made a pack for Michael and packed supplies, readying ourselves to leave. I felt the weather would be good for the next several days, so now was a good time to get started.

  "There is a trading post about three days northeast of here. I think we should go there first. With any luck, they may have horses for sale,” Michael said.

  I nodded. "We'll leave at first light."

  * * *

  As we were leaving, we took the door flap down to make the cave easier to find if someone needed shelter. We headed east, then turned more northerly. By mid-morning, we saw evidence of horses passing through the area.

  "Looking for their friends, perhaps?" I asked.

  “Perhaps," Michael replied.

  If I had been alone, I would have taken to the trees or started traveling at night. But I wasn't, so that was a moot point. We stopped well before dark and made a fire for hot food and drink. After we ate, we put the fire out and moved to a different spot a good distance away for the night. We decided not to risk another campfire to prevent potential enemies from locating us.

  On the third day, we reached the trading post or what was left of it. The main building was a half-burned husk; the outbuildings and barn were much the same. As Michael started to leave the shadows of the forest, I extended my arm in front of him, stopping his advance.

  "Wait," I whispered. "Let’s watch for a while, then I'll go in when it gets dark."

  “Good idea,” he softly replied and found a place to sit and watch.

  I scouted around and went up a tall tree to look at the surrounding area.

  Light smoke still rose, but nothing else moved. I returned to Michael, and we waited.

  "Did you know the owners?" I asked, quietly.

  "Not really," he answered, just as low. "Met them once a few
years back." He said no more.

  When it was full dark, I went to check the buildings. There were burned bodies in the main one. Couldn't tell much about them except they were dead. There wasn't anything of use left. The barn and outbuildings were in the same condition. I returned to Michael.

  "Nothing left here. We should go."

  “How many bodies?"

  "Six."

  He fell in behind me, and we headed east. Around midnight, we stopped to sleep. Once the sun was up, I made a small fire for a quick meal. We were on the move again as soon as we were through eating. After seeing the carnage at the trading post, it was best to keep moving.

  There were trails, but we stayed off them, keeping to the forest. When we stopped to rest, I kept watch from a tall tree. At one stop, I caught the faint smell of smoke on the wind. I dropped to the ground.

  "I smell smoke. Stay here while I take a look." I dropped my pack and weapons, so my fur would change color and blend in. I went up into the canopy, sniffing the air every so often, following the smell to its source.

  A quarter of a mile away I found them. Two Westies sitting beside a small fire. I could smell the tea they had on to boil. One had a spyglass to his eye, watching the crossroads below. Their uniforms and equipment were of higher quality than the last four I had met. They also had horses, which would please Michael since we would make better time.

  They were sitting close enough together that I could reach both at the same time. I dropped down, sinking my claws into the back of their necks and on through to their spines. Both died instantly. I put on one's cloak and bill cap and walked to the horses. They didn't like my smell, but the smell on their owner’s clothes kept them from trying to bolt.

  I made sure the horses were tied securely, then went back to the two dead men by the fire. I poured myself a cup of tea; it seemed a waste not to. I stripped the two, taking everything they had as spoils. I put out the fire, packed up the camp, and headed back to Michael. I took it slow, since I had little experience riding horses, having done so only once before. I took the cap and cloak off before I reached him. On general principle, I’m averse to being shot, accidentally or otherwise. Mistake or not, it would still hurt. When I was close, I dismounted and walked toward his position.

  "Michael, it's Cam. I'm alone and walking in with two horses."

  "Come ahead," came the response.

  "I bring gifts," I announced, smiling.

  "And most welcome ones too! You are becoming a man of means," he said, with genuine pleasure while checking over the horses. “These are beauties.” Pulling a long gun from its saddle holster, he looked it over and frowned. Briefly, he inspected the rest of the confiscated weaponry.

  "This is not good, not good at all. These guns and equipment are new and of high quality. Which means the Westies are building up their forces.”

  "They were sitting watch on a crossroads," I showed him the spyglass.

  "Expensive, he was from money," Michael replied, handing the spyglass back. "We need to get home fast. Let's get moving. I know the crossroad. It should be easy riding from there."

  "Unless we get shot," I sarcastically replied.

  "You don't say much, but when you do, it's so encouraging."

  "I do what I can," I bowed with a flourish.

  Mounted, we headed for the crossroads. It was late afternoon when we stopped to rest the horses. I made a small fire, where we ate and had tea, remaining watchful. When finished, we doused the fire and moved on another hour before we stopped for the night.

  After we cared for our horses, I went through the spoils from the dead crossroads watchers.

  "These short guns look better than the first ones," I noted, handing one to Michael.

  He looked it over, and in the fading light, squinted down the barrel.

  "Uh-oh, these are the new type, I was telling you about. They have the grooved barrels." He got up and took one of the long guns from the saddle holster. "These have grooves as well. This is even worse than I feared. They are spending a lot of money on new equipment and supplies. We leave before dawn."

  I started to pack the spoils and found a leather money wallet like father had. The difference was, besides being nicer, this one had banknotes in it.

  Michael saw it too. "Yep, he was from money alright. You are now officially well-to-do.

  I shrugged and put it in my inside vest pocket. I'd look more closely at the notes later. I swapped one of my older guns for one of newer. I handed the other to Michael.

  "Take this one to add to yours."

  He took it. "Are you sure? It's quite valuable."

  "I'm sure. I can only carry so many guns, and as you've seen, I carry nothing when I'm on scout."

  Grinning, he replied, “Yes, I noticed, including frequently being undressed. Thank you for the gift. I shall cherish it.”

  * * *

  It took us days to reach the border of the Windford lands. Shortly thereafter, we were met by a band of five men riding toward us.

  “Stand easy,” Michael cautioned. “These are Windford men.”

  I nodded, changing my fur color to golden blonde with black accents on my forearms like bracers and on my shins like greaves.

  The leader recognized Michael. "Well met, Sir Michael."

  "Well met. This is my honored friend, Master Cam," Michael replied.

  I had a feeling by the way he said it, some signal or code had passed between them. They seemed to relax.

  "Well met, Master Cam."

  “Well met, sir,” I tipped my head toward him.

  “Your father had parties out searching for you, Sir Michael."

  "Send a rider to let him know I'm fine, and we are on the way in."

  With a nod to one of the men, he was off at a gallop. It took us two more days to reach the Windford estate. As we entered the courtyard, a well-dressed, older man stood at the top of the stairs.

  Michael whispered, "Be warned, my friend. My father is a bit more formal than I am."

  "Good thing I'm wearing my “Sunday-go-to meeting” kilt then," I answered, straight faced.

  Coughing to hid his laughter, Michael regained his composure, “Do C-cats attend services on Sundays?”

  “Not unless you consider getting together and beating the snot out of each other as ‘services’ ”.

  “Whatever for?”

  “Girls. Increased the chances of getting what father called ‘a date’ ”.

  “Did it work?

  “Not really.”

  “Then, why do it?”

  I shrugged. “Hope springs eternal.”

  Footmen came forward and took the reins of the horses, and we dismounted. Michael ascended the three steps toward his father. While waiting, I took one of the new long guns from its holster, and as not to make anyone nervous, I handed it to a footman.

  Michael and his father spoke quietly. After a few moments, Michael motioned me forward.

  "Father, may I present Master Cam. Cam, my father, Lord Windford."

  I bowed. "Clan leader, an honor to meet you. If you will allow, it is a custom among my people to bring a gift when being received by a clan leader."

  I turned to the footman holding the long gun. We took it from its holster, and I presented it to Lord Windford.

  "Sir Michael tells me this is one of the new type of long guns and of good quality."

  "A fine piece, Master Cam. Thank you," he said, looking it over. "Please let's go inside for some refreshment, and you can tell me the news."

  Lord Windford handed the long gun back to the footman and led us inside. Although not asked, I unbuckled my weapons harness and gave it to another footman.

  Michael's mother waited inside. "You had better not be dead, young man, or I shall beat you," she said, hugging him.

  "Mother, may I present the reason I'm not dead, Master Cam. Cam, my mother, Lady Windford."

  I bowed. "An honor, M’lady."

  “And a gentleman, I see. He has disarmed himself before ent
ering. How refreshing. Welcome, Master Cam," she said, offering her hand.

  I lightly took her hand and bowed over it, silently thanking my father's memory for his instructions in hospitality.

  "Thank you for returning my son safely to me. I shall not forget it. Now, come tell us of your adventures."

  I let Michael do most of the talking, only speaking when asked a direct question. Lord Windford looked at Michael's new short gun, then handed it back.

  "Tell me, Master Cam. From the tracks you saw, how many men would you say were operating in that area?" he asked.

  "Hard to be sure, M’lord, but at least two companies across the area we covered. With additional two-men scout teams posted at important sites," I answered.

  “The Western Kingdom has been an ongoing threat for decades, looking to encroach and take by any means what is ours. Ruthless and persistent. For the most part, we have successfully defended ourselves. These new weapons will change that. The tactical advantage would be theirs. They are coming, and we must be ready. I’ll send a message to the capital and call up the militia to start patrolling the borders in force,” Lord Windford strode out of the room with barely contained anger.

  Following his departure a momentary silence was broken by Lady Windford.

  “Master Cam, you will, of course, join us for dinner."

  "Your pardon, M’lady, but I've no suitable attire for such an occasion."

  "Not to worry," Michael grinned. "I think we could manage something to suit."

  "It's settled then, dinner at eight," she directed. I took that as my dismissal, rose, bowed, and left with Michael.

  Once we were out of earshot, "I thought we were friends!" I hissed.

  "You're not getting off that easy. My mother is a gracious lady with an iron core. Since I have to dress for dinner, then so do you,” Michael laughed, clapping me on the back.

  Chapter 3

  They did indeed find clothes that fit me, including boots. Though to be honest the boots were a bit tight. After a drawn bath, I changed fur color to solid gold, dropping the black accents.

  At dinner, I noticed the Lord and Lady were watching me as we ate.

  Are they waiting to see if I eat with my hands and claws?

  “If I understand correctly,” I started, "the Windford lands are closest to the Westies’ border.”