Flora appraised Kirby, obviously confused. “I don’t understand why you’re here, either.”
Kirby didn’t respond.
Bray said, “She was sent back to New Hope with Jonas and some others to get more guns. The others didn’t make it.”
Redirecting the conversation, Enoch said, “Jonas is in and out of consciousness. His injuries are severe. I doubt he will last much longer, though my healers are trying to keep him alive. As of now, he will not do much more than spit at us and whisper insults.”
“The only things of which he is capable,” Kirby muttered.
“He is afraid of not making it to the gods, if he betrays Deacon,” Flora explained.
“Perhaps we can use some of those devices on him,” Bray said with a shrug. “That will get him to talk.”
“He will not tell you anything,” Flora said resolutely. “His allegiance is to Deacon and The Arches.”
“And where are yours?” Kirby said, pinning Flora with a glare.
Flora lowered her eyes, as if she’d prepared for the attack ever since she saw Kirby. “I cannot excuse my actions. I did what I needed to do for my people. All I can do now is offer my help.”
“You delivered a boy into the hands of a monster,” Kirby said, her anger boiling. “You are no better than any of them.”
“I never meant for him to be hurt,” she said. “I hope you can believe that.”
“Your help is probably a way of leading us into another trap. Why should we listen to you?”
Enoch held up his hand, halting the argument. “Before we left to find you, Kirby, Bray mentioned he had some ideas about getting onto the islands. I’d like to hear them.”
Hoping to turn an argument back into a constructive discussion, Bray said, “When I was thrown into the river, on the verge of drowning, I ended up at a spot that was shallow, by a downed tree. The water only reached my waist, and I was able to stand. That was how I got out. Later, I recalled something. When we first came to the islands, Bartholomew and Jonathan said the rain has been infrequent this year. They were concerned the water was low. Perhaps what happened to me makes sense.”
“It is true,” Flora piped up. “We have seen less rain than in previous years.”
Pursuing a point, Bray said, “I think we might be able to cross the river, or at least that portion of it. If I can find my way back to that spot, we can wade across and attack the soldiers from somewhere in the middle of the first island. That might even the odds.”
A spark of interest crossed Enoch’s face. “We will surprise them.”
“An advantage I wanted to discuss, before we were interrupted, and we left to find Kirby,” Bray said with a nod.
“An attack from the middle would be a surprise to the soldiers,” Flora agreed. “They are used to defending the bridges. Almost all of the soldiers are stationed there. We have other groups patrolling the islands, but only a few.”
The room fell silent as they noticed a look on Kirby’s face. It seemed as if she’d momentarily set aside her anger for Flora. “Perhaps we can attack the main bridge from the eastern and western entrances, as well as send a group in the middle of the island. We can use three groups to wall the guards in. If the middle group takes out some patrols quietly, before the gunfire starts, we can preserve the element of surprise while the other two groups get in place. The two groups can attack, and the island group can reinforce them.” Looking at Enoch with a serious expression, she asked, “How many soldiers do you have in Halifax?”
“Three hundred,” Enoch said. “Most are men, but we have some women fighters, like you. The remaining women take care of the children, or the elderly.”
“The island soldiers will be used to close combat, not guns,” Kirby said. “Even with arrows, they will have no chance against the weapons. However, there are more of them. If we hit them fast and take out many of them, we will be in a good position. Once they scatter, it will be harder to attack them on their terrain.”
Bray saw respect growing in Enoch’s eyes as he looked at Kirby.
“An ambush is our best method of attack,” Kirby concluded.
“I’m not an expert in war, but that sounds good to me,” Bray said.
“These grenades will help,” Kirby said, lifting her jacket. “I only have two left, but they can take down more than a few men. And they will disorient others.”
“I know the best times to attack,” Flora added. “The shifts change at dawn. The soldiers are split into night and day. If you can time an attack correctly, you can strike when the soldiers on the bridge are tired, but before the other men are awake and ready.”
“Those are the same shift times I heard from the bridge commanders,” Bray said, reinforcing Flora’s honesty.
Enoch was becoming more convinced, but he still had doubt on his face. “I’m not saying that I agree to this plan. But whether we attack tomorrow, or next week, I have concerns. If I were to split my soldiers into three groups, I am concerned about the group approaching the bridge on the western side. The road leading to the islands is clear. They will see us coming. We have never had luck getting near that area without being attacked.”
“There is a bend in the road just north of The Arches,” Bray suggested. “Perhaps you can sneak the rest of the way through the woods once you reach it. The diversion will give you cover to get closer.”
“I am still afraid they might see us,” Enoch said. “And if they do, I am afraid that my first group of men will perish.”
“Perhaps we need another diversion,” Kirby said, thinking on it. “One that will allow you to sneak closer.”
Seeing the look on her face, Bray said, “You look as if you have something in mind.”
Kirby thought it over a moment before speaking, uncertain about the idea. “Deacon is expecting me to return the morning after next, as I told you. I assume his soldiers might be, too. They will be watching for two horses. I was to bring him some guns, and his men. Obviously, the men are dead. But it won’t be a surprise to see me.”
“So you will approach with two horses by yourself?” Bray shook his head, clearly not sold on the idea. “You will pretend to have his guns?”
“I won’t get close enough for a conversation, but it will be a distraction,” Kirby said. “I can handle myself once the battle starts. I will have grenades, and my gun.” She looked down at her waist, then at Enoch. “And another long gun, if you allow me.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea,” Bray argued. “You cannot go alone.”
“Seeing anyone else on the horses will alarm them,” Kirby said. “You are supposed to be dead, Bray. And Jonas is in no shape to travel. For all we know, he will die by morning. Perhaps I can even take a small group of men to assist me, in the cover of the woods. That will mean less risk of being seen.”
The room went quiet. Kirby was surprised when Flora cleared her throat.
Sitting forward, she said, “They won’t be expecting Bray, but they’ll be expecting me. I can ride the second horse.”
Kirby shook her head, as some of her earlier anger rekindled. “Are you that eager to preserve your own life that you would see your people slaughtered? Why would I trust you riding next to me?”
Flora looked as if she’d been struck. “This war will happen, whether I am in a grave or not. My hope is that if I am there, I can save some of the other islanders.” Flora looked as if she was fighting tears. “My hope is that I can save my family. Deacon deserves death, for what he did to my real father, and what he has done to too many others. If he is going to die, I would like to be there to see it.”
Flora looked away from all of them and studied a spot on the wall.
Kirby fell silent, feeling some pity she hadn’t expected.
Enoch remained quiet, as well.
After a long pause, Bray said, “Deacon is preparing for this war. He was open about it, when we were there. He knows you are coming. Each day, his defenses will get stronger. I know you are concer
ned about your soldiers being inexperienced with the guns, but time might not be something you have.”
“And you only have a certain amount of ammunition,” Kirby finished. “Each round you waste is one less you will have for the island soldiers.”
Seeing the look of confusion on Enoch’s face, Bray clarified, “The metal that goes in the guns.”
Enoch nodded. “I understand.”
“There is the river, too,” Flora said. “If we get some rain soon, that might ruin your chances of crossing the river at its low point.”
Kirby said, “I can teach your men some basic skills with the guns that might help you fight. But if we are going to fight alongside you, I would ask that we leave soon. William is trapped on that island. He might only have a few nights, if we don’t return. The diversion I am proposing will only work if we enact the plan soon.”
Enoch looked between them. “I am not certain I can commit to this plan. I will need time to think on it.”
Chapter 50: Bray
Bray and Kirby sat on the wooden bed, staring at the bare, cracked walls of the room in which Bray had slept. Two fresh cups of herbal tea sat on the table, along with some dinner that the Halifax women had brought—a plate of some dried, unrecognizable meat, and some bread.
“You should try some of the tea,” Bray said, trying to distract from an obviously tense situation. “It’s not bad.”
Kirby reached for some dried meat instead, chewing a hunk as she stared through the crack in the doorway. “It does not sound like Enoch is going to help us,” she said.
Bray shook his head. Despite encouraging Kirby to eat and drink, he was unable to do more than look at the food.
Kirby’s eyes wandered to several children running past the doorway with high-pitched, happy squeals. “If we do not hear from him soon, we might have to make a decision. Do you think he will give us more weapons?”
“He has been generous, and he knows they are your people’s weapons. I believe he will help us,” Bray said. “Beyond that, I think we will be on our own.”
Kirby sighed audibly. “Even if we were to get weapons, we do not have much chance at getting William back. I do not know where he is. Deacon has him hidden.”
“You know the layout of the second island better than I do,” Bray said. “Do you have any ideas on where he might be?”
“I have been in both buildings. They have many rooms. It would take effort to find him, though I am not convinced he is even there. Deacon took him away on a horse. For all I know, he might be on the first island, or somewhere we haven’t seen. Or dead.”
Bray clenched his fists. “Going in there might as well be suicide. We’ll never make it out.”
Kirby’s face was solemn.
Bray looked at Kirby with an intensity that showed he was preparing for the worst of answers, as he asked another question. “Do you think he’s still alive?”
“I do not know,” Kirby said simply. “I want to believe…”
Bray lowered his head. He stared at the ground, moving some dirt on the floor around with his boots. Kirby set her meat back on the tray. Neither of them reached for any more food or drink.
“This is my fault,” Bray said.
Kirby looked at him, surprised to hear those words coming from his mouth. “It is not.”
“I asked to go to the settlement,” Bray said, shaking his head. “I brought him to his death.”
“You did not know things would turn out this way,” Kirby said. “We made the decision together. William was sick. We did what most people might have done, when faced with that choice.” Kirby looked as if she was trying to convince herself.
“And now he will die regardless.” Bray cracked open the door, watching a mother walk past, a baby on each hip. A group of soldiers with guns slung around their shoulders looked at Bray and kept walking.
“He is resourceful,” Kirby said, trying to offer some hope. “You have taught him well. If he is alive, perhaps he will make it.”
Bray shook his head. “Not in a place like that. Even I’m not foolish enough to believe that. The numbers are too great.” He shook his head, wanting to release some of the built-up anger. Anything was better than feeling grief.
He had made a promise, and he had failed.
If Enoch would not help them, all was lost.
Chapter 51: Enoch
Enoch rose from his chair. He was tired of sitting, and he was tired of thinking. Bray, Kirby, and Flora had raised some good points. But none of those would guarantee a victory. He walked underneath some of the dangling trinkets on the ceiling—beads and pieces of glass that commemorated the lost people of Halifax—trying to recall the faces of the lost people they represented. But there were too many.
The islanders had killed more than their share of his people.
He had promised his people vengeance. But would he give them death instead?
Reaching up, he twirled one of the dangling trinkets in his hand, staring at the small, round beads. He envisioned one of the Halifax women constructing the piece, hoping her relative would reach The Holy One. It was a gesture he wanted to believe. He thought back to the rousing speech he had given his people, as they used the weapons on the platform.
We will overcome our enemies.
He believed what he said.
But he wasn’t willing to rush a decision that would lead to death.
It was so easy to imagine victory when he was inspiring his people from the platform, but it was a different thing to watch his men fall in the wild, underneath an enemy’s sword or bow, or later, listen to the cries of widows and children as they grieved their loved ones. He bore a responsibility for each of those deaths that most people would never see, a responsibility that weighed on him each night he lay down to sleep.
Enoch pondered that as he walked to the entrance. Several soldiers were waiting outside to deliver a message to him. He opened the door and listened.
“The man named Jonas is awake again,” one of the men reported in their language.
Enoch nodded. Jonas didn’t have much time left. Perhaps he’d get something out of him before he died. Walking past the soldiers, he made his way across the platform, listening to the songs of the women, the playful cries of children, and the hard voices of his soldiers.
His people.
**
Enoch stood at Jonas’s bedside, watching him suck breaths past his bloodied lips. Jonas’s eyes were glossy as he surveyed Enoch, his hands covering his bandaged stomach. The women had stopped the bleeding. They’d given him herbs, and drink to numb the pain. But Enoch knew the injuries were severe. His people had never tended wounds from the lightning weapons called guns before. Kirby had given them some advice, but it hadn’t helped.
Jonas was dying.
Blinking through a stab of agony, Jonas watched Enoch. “I can see the gods,” he whispered.
They were the first words he’d spoken, since they’d brought him in, other than spitting and cursing.
“You will meet The Holy One soon,” Enoch said, a solemn expression on his face.
Jonas gasped, looking as if he was trying to figure something out. “I will learn the gods’ secrets. They will tell me everything, when I join them.”
“Perhaps,” Enoch said, not wanting to crush the man’s hope. He wasn’t cruel enough to deny a man his dying dreams.
Jonas opened and closed his hands on something. Frowning, Enoch looked down, noticing a small, metallic object in his grasp that he hadn’t noticed Jonas holding. He bent down to get a look at it.
Seeing his curiosity, Jonas smiled through his pain. “A gift from the gods.”
“What is it?” Enoch asked, as Jonas opened his hands, revealing the object.
Enoch stared at the round, metallic device, which had strange symbols carved on its face. It looked different than most of the things his people had pulled from the rubble in the forest.
Jonas labored through a raspy cough. “A piece from the gods,” he s
aid quietly. “I believe it marks the passing of a day.”
“I don’t believe I’ve seen an object like that.”
“It will lead me to the gods,” Jonas said with a curious smile. “They gave it to me to usher me to the heavens.”
Enoch nodded, but he had other things to discuss. “I came for information. I am hoping you will help me, so that you will meet your gods with a clean heart.”
“I am not the only one with questions.” Jonas’s smile remained on his face as he weakly nodded.
“Several weeks ago, a group of my men were on a hunt. They encountered a group of your soldiers, who attacked them. A few of my men survived, but the rest were dragged away. Our widows would like to know if any of their bodies are in the forest. If they were taken to the island, I am hoping you will be honest so we can stop searching. If they are in the forest, we would like to give them a ceremony and burn them.”
Jonas coughed again, holding his stomach. When he was through with his fit, he refocused. “You want the bodies back.”
“Yes.” Enoch watched and waited.
Jonas looked at the object in his hands, turning it slowly. “That is why you are keeping me alive.”
“My hope is for more information,” Enoch said. “But it is a start. I have promised my women I would ask. If it is possible, they will search for the bodies in the forest, and bring back whom they can.”
“And then I can die?” Jonas’s lips curved into a half-smile.
“Yes,” Enoch promised. A compromise might be worth it. He would end this man’s pain, if it meant some closure for his people.
Jonas stared at Enoch as his smile faded. Seeming to find a burst of strength, he spoke in a fast whisper that grew stronger the more he talked. “Those bodies are in so many pieces that you will never find them. The men were taken to our island, where we stripped them of their fingers, their toes, their teeth, and in the end, their tongues.” Jonas laughed as his eyes lit up. “We listened as they screamed for their women, and their children. We laughed as they bled. And we made sure their deaths were as slow as any man.”
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