Conflict (Crossover Series)

by Socha, Walt

  And this clearing?” Larry asked, waving his arms to encompass the surrounding knee-high grasses and brush covering this end of the ridge.

  “I’d guess they burned it for the view. We wouldn’t see anything but nearby tree trunks otherwise. I’d further venture to say they periodically burned the forests also.

  The trees are big enough to survive a cool fire. And the undergrowth is just about non-existent.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “We had a pretty easy climb except for the rocky ground. Movement through the trees is easy, at least on foot.”

  “Except for the gravity, that it was.” Larry looked back up the valley. “Might be a good place to fortify. We could drop some trees beyond the burned area to hold in the horses. Might not be enough forage for them though.” Joe followed Larry’s eyes. The river bounded the east end of Two Ribs valley, but the west end opened into the far distance. It would be hard to defend.

  Joe turned in place, scanning the terrain. The river flowed from the north, cutting through the northern ridge before turning east to parallel the central ridge under their feet. As it cut through their ridge, it turned south to break through the southern fold.

  His eyes kept returning to the wide valley across the river, between their re-emerging ridge and the one further north. “The valley across and upriver seems to be larger with many open areas. More burning I suspect. The eastern end seems to be split into two separate valleys by a smaller one of these ridges. And it looks like those valleys may be blocked at the far end if all three ridges merge.” Joe pulled binoculars from the pack slung over his shoulder and focused at the far end of the opposite valley. “Yeah, can’t quite tell from this angle if the ridges actually merge, but they at least get close enough to form a partial barrier. May only need to take down a few trees.” He looked again. “The elders report that both villages over there were destroyed. The closest one, I think it’s Two Valleys, is barely visible but I don’t see any movement. Can’t even see any sign of Clear Streams.”

  “Seems to me that ain’t gonna be a good place to hunker down.”

  “But it is somewhat protected on three sides by the ridges. Won’t stop anyone, but will slow them down. And it’ll contain the horses.”

  “And the long river side?” Larry blew out a long breath. “They can’t surprise us if we post guards. And we have to think about planting crops for winter food. And finding someplace for the horses. I’m thinking their mobility is going to be key to the long term protection of the kids.” Joe lowered the binoculars and looked up and down the river. “We have to make a stand somewhere. The ridges limit access and may provide lookouts.”

  “Okay, the river is good and bad.” Larry snorted a laugh. “Besides, I kinda like fish.”

  “Those split valleys may help us separate those damned stallions. The crossover seems to have thrown off the mares’ hormones, but I’m guessing that won’t last long.” Joe raised the binoculars and swept the trails along the opposite riverbank. As he moved the glasses to the southwest, he caught a sudden movement. A log in the water? No, a small canoe.

  “Shit. Maybe white clay.” Joe kept his voice steady. “Just downriver and across from Two Ribs.”

  “How many?”

  “Don’t know. Just saw a canoe. Let’s get back to the village.”

  They ran and slid down the hillside. At the bottom, they mounted and rode south along the river trail. As they broke into the open, they galloped toward the children attending to the herd of horses.

  Joe glanced to the village. A figure—Brent—raised his arms in a question. Joe waved his pistol and Brent sprinted toward the children.

  They slowed when they neared the children. Alta was with them. “Move the horses closer to the village,” Joe said. She glanced at the pistol in Joe’s hand and immediately gave instructions to the children, nudging the nearest horse toward the tents and huts. Zoey appeared and, sensing

  Alta’s intent, nipped at the horses’ legs.

  Joe glanced at Larry. “Let’s scout this side.”

  At Larry’s nod, Joe rode toward the river, leaving the open ground of the village for one of the trails that cut through the narrow strip of forest along the water. As they approached the slow-moving water, Joe left Snark with Larry and forced his way through the brush to the river’s edge. He worked his way downriver, stumbling over rocks and roots, pushing through branches and vines. After about a quarter mile, he found the fresh imprint of moccasins next to a canoe’s skid mark. They were being watched from both sides of the river.

  Joe straightened and scanned the shoreline. A peaceful serene world, thick with vegetation and life. He walked back to the trail and mounted Snark.

  Larry sheathed his rifle and frowned. “Let’s do it. Those bastards’ll follow us anywhere we go. The sooner I build some fortifications and put my forge together, the better I’ll feel.”

  Joe looked up. It was about mid-day and the sun had climbed to about 45 degrees, maybe 50, above the horizon. The soil was warming up. They couldn’t delay planting any longer. With children and elders, they needed a secure food supply for the winter.

  They rode back to the village.

  ><><

  “Are you Sky Woman?”

  Kristi drew in a sharp breath as the brown eyes opened and stared at her. She jerked her hand from his thigh, leaving glistening skin where she had been bathing him with a damp cloth.

  Kristi exhaled. “My name is Kristi.” She pushed away all thoughts of Levanu’s long lean body. “I am a healer from a land far away.”

  Levanu’s eyes continued to bore into her own.

  She broke his gaze, and turned to look at the doorway. “I will tell your mother that you are awake.”

  She glanced back at Levanu. His eyes were closed, the gentle rise and fall of his chest suggesting sleep. His fever had broken.

  The sound of Kristi’s blood pounded in her ears.

  Chapter 25. Day 17

  “Easy girl, it’s just some water.” Joe spoke in low tones to Snark, calming the nervous mare. They stood on a shallow gravel and bedrock island that lay almost two thirds of way across the Susquehanna. In front of him lay the river’s main channel, which hugged its north bank.

  He shook his head at this strange river. The Susquehanna made several turns as it broke through the ridges. It first turned east after breaking through the northern ridge then south as it cut through the central and southern ridge. The mile wide river was slow and shallow in this section except for the deeper channel in front of him. The riverbed was broken bedrock, walkable for most of the width provided one didn’t fall into a crevasse.

  It had taken all of yesterday to scout out a crossing less than a mile above the former village of Clear Streams, one that would minimize danger to the horses. They had decided to use a pair of islands to give the horses a break during the crossing. The easiest section cut across the western end of the long overgrown island that lay along the southern shoreline. Because of all the critters in the trees, the children had named it Bird Island. The shallow smaller island, on which Joe and Snark stood, they just called Gravel Island. Its eastern sand and gravel-covered end lined up with the larger Bird Island’s western end with just a shallow two-hundred-yards between them.

  On the north bank, water dripped from both Larry and his horse. Joe grinned at the frightening and humorous sight of the big man wearing only his boxer shorts and boots. A rope hung from his saddle horn. Joe held the other end. Several of the older boys surrounded Larry, their enthusiasm greater than their help. Larry showed no sign of minding.

  Midstream, Brent and Matu poled a small raft around the river’s boulders and outcroppings, easily countering the Susquehanna’s weak current. In places, Brent jumped into the water to push the lashed logs carrying their supplies over the shallow sections.

  Once the raft reached Joe, he tied Larry’s rope to the logs and dismounted to help Brent push the raft into the main channel’s slightly faster water.


  On shore, Larry and Mojo easily took up the slack and, once Brent pulled himself back onto the raft, towed it the remaining distance to shore. With excited cries, the boys scrambled down the bank to help Brent and Matu unload.

  Joe remounted and scanned the shores. They were vulnerable during these crossings. On the southern shore, Potts sat on his horse with his back to the river, rifle cradled in his arms. Fifty yards beyond Larry, through a break in the trees and brush, Kristi sat on Sweetpea in the middle of the trail that paralleled the river. She cradled her own rifle as she peered into the dense forest.

  Joe blinked to clear his eyes.

  By early evening, they had the rest of the supplies and the horses safely across, the horses hobbled in one of the several open areas around the abandoned village of Clear Streams. Tomorrow, they’d move the elders who, after watching the first several raft crossings, were now gathering their own possessions together, helped by Alta and the young girls.

  Tonight, Joe would stay at Two Ribs and, before the elders abandoned their village, join in their farewell ceremony at their ancestral mound. But first he would try again to talk with their captive.

  ><><

  “Are you demons?” The young warrior stared at Joe. “No.” Joe returned his stare. “But we wonder if you are a demon. Why did you attack our camp?”

  Samatu stared in response. After several heartbeats, he blinked.

  “Why?” Joe sat near the young man’s leg. The wound in his left thigh still showed red at the edge of the bandage.

  Trimmed saplings immobilized his leg from hip to ankle. A chain circled his right ankle, the end link opened and beaten closed by Larry around another link to form a loop. The other end terminated around a two hundred pound section of tree trunk lying just outside the tent. It was an unexpected use for a tow chain Larry had brought along as a source of metal for his future forge.

  “You have invaded the territory of our war chief, Tork.” “It appears that Tork is the invader.”

  “He united the Tockwock and other Salt Waters peoples. And he will bring much honor.” Samatu looked away. “Why did you not kill me?”

  “Killing the wounded, like killing women and children, is not honorable.” Joe closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe evenly. Images of the battle on the first day, the killing of the wounded warrior, churned his stomach. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes to the boy before him. Would talking with one so steeped in violence do any good? Yet Samatu was what? Maybe 16?

  “Why is Tork stealing children?”

  Samatu blew out a breath. “Tork is building a great empire. The children will be part of it.”

  “How?”

  Samatu rolled his eyes. “I am not in Tork’s confidence.” Joe turned as the tent flap opened and Kristi entered with a bowl of stew. He sat and watched as she gave Samatu the bowl. As the captive ate, she knelt by his side and prodded the still swollen flesh. Face impassive, Samatu only grunted at her touch.

  “The swelling’s down. I think he’s healing amazingly well.” Kristi stood and reached down to take the now empty bowl. “Can you help him with the chamber pot? I’ll ask Larry to assist.” She nodded to the large clay pot set into a hole at the far corner of the tent. The Elders called it the ‘cold moons’ pot.

  She left, followed by Samatu’s eyes. When she had gone, he shifted his gaze to Joe. “Levanu says she is Sky Woman. Is this true?”

  “We think so.”

  Chapter 26. Day 20

  “It is good to see you in the sun.” Joe lowered himself to the ground, facing the tent Kristi had appropriated for her hospital. “Can you tell us again what happened?”

  Levanu sat in one of the camp chairs to the right of the entrance. On the other side, Samatu lay on a foam pad, his head propped up with a rolled up blanket, eyes staring at the cloudy sky.

  “Canoe after canoe passed our village.” Levanu’s facial muscles twitched. “The White Clay warriors attacked Two Valleys on the other side of Long River while we stood staring like helpless children. But when they moved upriver to attack Spring Fish on our side of the river, we ran to their defense. When we arrived, half of the enemy turned to face us. They started with atlatl darts. Maybe a hand of darts by each warrior. Then they rushed the survivors with clubs.” He glanced at Samatu, who continued to stare upwards.

  Looking down, Levanu rubbed his face with his hands. “I was hit with a dart. I tried to stay upright, but was felled by a club.” His eyes shifted from the ground to Joe. “When I came awake once more, they had already moved downstream to attack Two Ribs. By the time I made my way back to my the village, it was destroyed. Only a few elders remained. All but the younger children were dead. Those were taken.”

  “How many warriors?” Joe asked.

  “Maybe four hands of canoes. Each with two hands of warriors.”

  Joe shook his head. Two hundred warriors? No way could they repel that kind of attack, especially if the enemy attacked with the atlatls and darts. The darts, or lightweight spears, could be propelled up to a hundred miles per hour by the lever arm action of the atlatl.

  “Your mother, Canisa, survived. What of the rest of your family?”

  Levanu took in a shuddering breath. “My father was killed. My wife and infant son were killed. Mother was gathering herbs.”

  Joe’s mind raced, trying to find words. Nothing came.

  To his left, Samatu now stared at Levanu.

  A shout interrupted any further conversation. From the direction of the river, Matu ran into the village, arms waving.

  Joe stood, reaching for his holstered revolver. “Strangers,” Matu said between panting breaths as he approached Joe. “Where?”

  “From upstream. Along the river trail. A warrior and a child.” Matu pointed toward the river.

  Leaving the two wounded warriors, Joe ran through the village, along the creek path, and into the open field at the river’s edge. Several of the children stood downstream of Larry, who stood facing a pair of strangers.

  Joe slowed and, with hands held in front of him, joined Larry.

  A man, no older than sixteen or seventeen, stood in the middle of the river trail a few feet from where it opened into the west edge of the clearing. A pace behind him stood a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old. The man held a spear with a fire-hardened tip. Around his waist, a braided rope belt held a stone knife. The girl carried a leather bag.

  “My name is Nikaku. This is my sister Busa.” With slow movements, he lowered his spear to the ground and held out his empty hands. “We are from a small village on the other side of Long River.” He glanced back at the girl. “When Tork attacked, I was fishing with my sister. We escaped and hid in the forest to the north of the long hills.” He lowered his head. After several heartbeats, he straightened and stared at Joe. “We only returned to this area two suns ago. We wish to join your village.”

  “Nikaku, Busa…” A scream interrupted Joe’s reply. Sesapa ran past Joe and flung herself at the two strangers. She held the girl in an embrace with her left arm and held Nikaku’s hand with her right. After many sobbing breaths, she faced the growing crowd, still holding onto the newcomers. “These are my sister’s children. From Spring Fish village.”

  ><><

  Joe watched as Sesapa introduced Nikaku and Busa to everyone around the fire circle. He smiled for the sake of the children. Now he was responsible for two more. It was some consolation that Nikaku would probably be an asset in a fight. Until he ended up dead.

  Joe’s smile turned real as Potts shooed the children away from his steaming kettle. Given the news that he had two additional mouths to feed, he’d simply added more veggies to the pot.

  As the crowd fled from Potts’s waving arms, Sesapa moved into a huddle with Kristi and Alta. Marisa joined them. Alta’s smile widened.

  After a few minutes of discussion, Kristi broke from the small group and climbed onto one of the log seats farthest from Potts’s activities. “Attention.”
<
br />   Joe moved closer. The children and elder men milled around the women.

  “In several hands of days, there will be a new moon,” Kristi said, beaming at Alta. “Marisa has told me that this is the time when a girl who has become a woman takes her place in the village. She will lead the re-birth of Alta into a woman of the village.”

  Joe resisted shaking his head. Alta had been in the woman’s hut during the attack by Tork’s men; her coming of age ceremony tragically interrupted. Although it would be interesting to learn what rituals were used in these times, she was still very young.

  The other two female Elders joined the group around Alta, taking her hand and lifting it to their foreheads. As they turned away, he found Alta staring at him, her head high and posture erect.

  Coursing blood echoed in his head. With a shuddering breath, he broke her gaze.

  Chapter 27. Day 26

  “Take a break,” Joe said.

  “Damn, I knew we should’ve brought a chainsaw.” Larry straightened up and rolled his shoulders.

  “And after the gasoline ran out, it would make a great boat anchor.” Joe wiped his face with his bandana. “If we had a boat.”

  They stood at the edge of the clearing that crowned the small hill, their crosscut saw almost halfway through the three-foot thick pine. At the summit stood four upright poles set deep in the rocky ground. Once they’d felled their present target, they’d split the trunk into flooring planks for a platform about 20 feet off the ground. That should get them a view above the surrounding tree level. Closer to the tree line, two of the older children, Matu and Kidu, trimmed branches from a downed tree, both thrilled to be hefting the metal axes from the “Far Lands,” their name for Joe’s former home.

  To the north lay the remains of Clear Streams, another victim of Tork’s men. The two large canvas tents and four smaller ones had risen among the ashes of the destroyed huts, marking the site as their new home. Benches made from split logs surrounded the cookfire while the ribs of several new huts supported roofs of reeds. One collection of shorter poles hinted at a new sweat lodge. Kristi had re-christened their new village Haven. Not a bad name. “Well, maybe a boat would be a good idea. We are