Hammer Out A Future (Cart-Dragger Saga Book 1)

by Billy Wong

  "That's that, I suppose." Stan left to rejoin Ruth, who punched his arm when he got close enough.

  Lars was disappointed in not being hired, but had something else he wanted to ask. "Where are you going now?"

  "I hope you're not thinking about robbing wherever I drop off my spoils. I'm headed back to my city to deposit this before setting out again. It is well guarded."

  He blinked. "You live in a city? Not many of those left intact enough to be called such."

  "Mine isn't in the best shape either. But we still live there, so..."

  The thought of an inhabited city made Lars' spirits rise. Cities were said to be repositories of knowledge, so he wondered if maybe someone there would know how to heal Allen and restore him to his former self. "I know you won't pay us for it, but would you mind if we went home with you for free?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "And do what with me?"

  "Er, that was poorly worded. I mean, would it be all right if we accompanied you to the city without payment?"

  "No pay?" Allen asked. "Why would we do anything like that?"

  Not wanting to embarrass him, Lars whispered, "It's to help you." More loudly, "It'll be good to see a city again, and experience variety we couldn't find elsewhere."

  Cart-Dragger sighed. "I told you it isn't the most attractive place right now. But if you really want to see it, I won't stop you... if you can keep up."

  "Keep up with you pulling that load while carrying just our own gear? That hardly seems like a great challenge."

  "We'll see. You might be surprised."

  #

  After she finished her meal—Lars and Allen sticking with their cheap rations since they hadn't been paid—they said goodbye to Ruth and Stan and headed east out of town. As they put distance between them and the lake, the land became increasingly barren and dry again. The war between the Red Empire and the countries aligned against it had nearly destroyed the world, along with eliminating most of its mages and many types of plants and animals. Even though life was harsh, every person alive now had to count themselves lucky. Despite dragging the mammoth cart, its owner walked faster than most people would have unencumbered. Being fit and relatively young men, Lars and Allen kept up without much trouble at first. It wasn't certain how much rest Cart-Dragger would let them have, though.

  Before they got more than few hours from town, Cart-Dragger stopped before a bunch of dead vegetation in the road. She took the nearest bag off the wagon and threw it on the brush. A rope closed around the bottom of the large sack and jerked it into the air, to hang upside down from the limb of a hardy tree. If it hadn't been tied firmly closed, iron coins would have showered down before them.

  "That's so amateurish," she said contemptuously. "You thought you'd catch me with a snare that obvious?" Even if it caught her, Lars thought, she'd probably just sit up and cut right through it. "You guys might as well come out and save me the trouble of dragging you out from behind those rocks."

  The wild-haired man who had been upset with her claiming the reward stepped into view along with his two associates. "Why are you looking at me like that, all self righteous-like? You made us come all the way here for nothing, why shouldn't we be paid for our time? I have a wife and children to feed, and so does my brother here." He indicated one of the others, a shorter, younger fellow. "What do you need to keep all that money to yourself for? Share the wealth, let others have a chance."

  Cart-Dragger frowned. She drew a javelin without the cloth tied around it from her quiver, raised it, and threw it up at the rope. The sack fell and she caught it easily in one arm though it must weigh over a hundred pounds, then ran with it and caught the javelin too when it came back down. Even in her casual actions she was monstrous. She took out six coins and tossed the men two each. "One for each of you, and one for your loved ones." Her eyes narrowed. "But maybe you should reconsider your profession if you can't make it without charity from others. Being a mercenary isn't for everyone. And, I could have killed you if I wanted to and justified it as defending myself."

  Under her frightful glare, they shrank away and fled. "So you'll pay them for trying to rob you, but not us for helping with your load?" Lars mused.

  "They seem a little more desperate. Besides, I would have killed them too if they still attacked me."

  "Your javelins look pretty standard. I sort of expected something more."

  "Oh really?" She handed him one. "Feel it."

  "This is rather heavy!" Throwing one would be awkward, to say the least. "Is the inside filled with lead or something?"

  "Not lead, but something like that. They're made with extra heavy metal to give a better chance of punching through God Soldier armor and the like."

  "What's with the cloth tied around one of them?" Allen asked. "Is that an extra extra heavy javelin?"

  She grinned. "Maybe... for now, I'll keep that part as a mystery."

  "Fair enough," Lars said.

  They journeyed on southeast towards her home. She remained aloof, rarely talking and evading questions about herself. Maybe she needed to save her breath to drag the wagon. It was odd though how she refused to even tell them her real name, preferring to be called "Cart-Dragger." Lars soon realized she only rested for a short time each day, about five hours of sleep from midnight to early morning and a brief midday lunch break, and he and Allen already felt the strain.

  "Do you always push yourself this hard, while pulling that huge thing along?" he asked on the second day. "How can you possibly keep it up?"

  "I'm used to it." She winked and added, "People do question if I'm human anymore."

  "How much farther is it to your city?" He had assumed it couldn't be too far, but it turned out not too far might still prove difficult.

  "I usually try to stay somewhat close to home. But I had to go a bit farther this time for jobs, so about two more weeks."

  "Two weeks at this pace? That'll hurt."

  "I never asked you to come. If you fall behind, you can always follow my tracks to get to the city. You do know how to do that, right?"

  "I guess."

  A few grueling days later, they spotted a fork in the road. One branch led to another town not directly in their path. "Can we stop just for a minute and eat some real food?" Allen asked, resting hands on his knees as he stopped. "Lars looks tired."

  Cart-Dragger glanced back. "You both look exhausted." She gave a grudging nod. "Go ahead. I'll wait for you here. Two hours. If you're not back by then, I'm gone."

  That was a good chunk of time for a meal, allowing for decent rest. Lars supposed she wasn't so heartless after all. "Why don't you come with us?"

  "I already lost six coins being overly soft on those subpar mercs. I shouldn't waste any more."

  "Do you consider us subpar too, given we didn't do any better against the God Soldier?"

  "I'd hope you wouldn't try to take me with such a poor plan."

  "We wouldn't mess with you at all if there was any way around it."

  She smiled. "That would already make you wiser and less subpar."

  "Good to hear. See you in two."

  #

  The girl watched the pair go, limping slightly from the hard travel they'd endured. They were pleasant enough company for rough mercs, and their determination to follow made her curious why they wished to visit her homeland so much. She pondered whether after getting there, they might want to continue on the path with her. But no... very few could walk with her long term, and after doing things one way for so long, she had little desire to change them up.

  #

  Buffeted by sand as they walked between squat wooden houses, Lars and Allen reached the not much taller though wider inn and hastened inside for shelter. Lars wondered where the rooms might be, perhaps on the same floor or down below in a basement. No matter, they would only be staying for a meal. As they sampled a cheap soup made with lizard meat, Lars asked, "So what do you think of her now?"

  Allen shrugged. "She's okay. A little mean, and ki
nd of fat."

  "No meaner than you'd expect from somebody in our line of work." He recalled how she'd stuffed herself devouring that giant bowl at the last town. "She does eat like an overactive kid. Maybe it feeds her monster strength."

  Allen's face suddenly fell. "I wish I could remember more of when we were kids, before the world got bad."

  Lars' eyes grew moist, as little made him feel worse than when his friend showed awareness of his condition. He gently patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll get you fixed up for sure." If only he hadn't said the same thing so many times before that it felt hollow. But the promise of Cart-Dragger's city did give him hope, and dampened the guilt that passed through his mind.

  When they left the inn, they heard a ruckus to the right. They looked to see a group of frail, limping figures escorted down the street by armed men, while a watching crowd yelled in protest. Lars moved closer. "What's going on?"

  A bald warrior in a cuirass with bare muscled arms replied, "We're taking the old and sickly out of town, as per the boss' order. We can't afford to waste food and water anymore on those who don't contribute."

  "Don't make Grandma leave!" a thin girl in a plain hooded dress cried. "She'll die out there!"

  "This isn't right," Lars said. Allen growled behind him. "The old took care of the young before they could fend for themselves, the young should do the same in return. As for the sick, they can get better. Throwing them away like trash because they aren't 'useful' enough at the moment makes us not deserve to be called people."

  Another warrior with long hair and a scar down his cheek shoved his face into Lars', their noses touching. "Mind your business, stranger. Lest you want my sword inside your pretty little moralizing heart."

  Lars wavered over what to do. It wouldn't sit well with him to walk away and let them keep condemning hapless folks to death, but him and Allen probably weren't up to taking on all their boss' men. Maybe they could just try to help this group to safety, perhaps taking refuge in Cart-Dragger's city, and make further decisions from there. "Alright, we're leaving. It's your town..." He started to back up.

  "Sniveling coward," the scarred man taunted. "Just like I thought you were." Then he gasped and slowly looked down. The haft of a spear stuck out from his gut.

  Allen ripped it out, and blood sprayed over Lars' pants as the man fell sobbing in agony. "Who's sniveling now?! You think people deserve to die just because they're no longer as capable as you? You deserve to die more!"

  Lars swallowed. Shit, he should have been more vigilant in curtailing such a reaction from his friend. No help for it now. He cleaved into the chest of a lunging man, wrenched his axe out while dodging a spear thrust. Before he could retaliate, he was forced to parry a sword cut from another warrior. He glimpsed Allen jabbing at the muscled bald man, who batted his spear tip aside with a mace. No help there for now. Lars kicked the sword wielder stumbling back, chopped his other opponent's spear in half and opened his throat on the backswing. The swordsman recovered and rushed again with a desperate shout. Lars sidestepped and tripped him, parted his spine with the axe. Allen had finished his foe, ramming his spear through the bald man's throat. He grabbed gurgling at his neck and toppled over. Allen extracted the pole. The last warrior eyed him and Lars, turned and ran. There was a moment of silence. Then cheers rose from the crowd that had opposed the mass exile.

  They weren't out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. "How many men does this gang have?" Lars asked.

  A gaunt old man replied, "Their leader Norm the Neverwrong has seventy men under him. Since you killed some, there should be sixty-five more."

  Way too many to take on. "Let's go. If we can get out of here before reinforcements arrive..."

  They headed for the exit with the sick and elderly in tow. Though he couldn't blame them for not being able, Lars wished they could go faster. Before they got halfway there, a pack of warriors burst from a side street in front of them, cutting them off. He looked back, but more men chased them from behind and would soon catch up. The huge mulleted man with a large gut leading the first group—must be Norm—glowered at Lars and Allen. "You killed my nephew. I'll have you hung by your entrails for that."

  Lars didn't know which one had been his nephew, but said, "He wouldn't have died if he served a better cause. How can you think this is just? You're not that young yourself." The man was close to fifty at least. "Do you want to be discarded without a second thought when you get old?"

  He smirked. "Ha, I'll never get that old and useless. I expect to die gloriously in battle before then."

  "Not everyone can be you." The pursuers were almost on them now. "Allen, we have to break through! Maybe if we kill him, their resolve will break." A thin hope, but... he charged.

  Norm readied his great halberd. "You kill me?" He clashed with Lars, and his guard proved rock solid. Attacking him felt like hitting a stone wall, the way he warded blows with just his huge weapon and no need to take a step back. Behind his haft, he wore a mocking smile. Lars swung low at his legs, had the butt of the halberd strike his axe and drive it into the ground for his effort. He thought to whip the weapon up and fling dirt into Norm's eyes, but before he could pain lanced through the back of his thigh and he dropped to a knee. Looking back at the reddened spear now pointed at his neck, he knew one of Norm's men had stabbed him. Allen had already been subdued, on his back under a circle of steel.

  "Throw them in a cell!" Norm boomed. "They'll die when it comes time in front of the whole town, to teach them all a lesson about defying the Neverwrong."

  #

  Some time later Lars sat wincing on the floor of a dirty cell in one of the town's few stone buildings, rubbing his shoulder to try and relieve his worst pain aside from his thigh. He and Allen had been punched and kicked dozens of times on the way here, then thrown roughly inside a basement cell causing his newest injury. It seemed more likely a sprain than anything worse, but even that reduced their already slim chances of escape before being executed.

  "How long you think before they kill us?" Allen asked. He snapped his broken nose back into place with a disturbing crunch and cursed.

  "Not very long I imagine. Probably as soon as he can get the town together—I don't see Norm being the especially patient type."

  Allen turned to the guard by the stairs leading up. "How can you support this, don't you know it wrong? Aren't you worried what happens when one of your family gets old or sick?"

  "I don't like it either," the wide-faced blond man said. "My father turned sixty recently, and I have no idea when they'll decide he isn't pulling his weight anymore. But there's nothing I can do. Norm's loyal friends are better fighters than everyone else here, never mind Norm himself. Anybody who tries to rebel will be cut down."

  "Help us get away, and we'll take you with us! Then we'll bring someone much stronger than Norm to overthrow him."

  Allen must mean Cart-Dragger, but Lars wasn't confident she would be willing to help. It had been over three hours and she hadn't come to get them. She was probably long gone by now. They had just been interesting diversions, but unimportant to her after all.

  "Sorry, but I'm hardly in a position to aid you," the guard said. "I'll say a prayer for you when you're dead." He turned away.

  "That will help," Allen grumbled.

  Long minutes passed as Lars considered and dismissed different ideas on how to escape. Then he heard a commotion outside. "Hey, what are you doing?" a man demanded. "No parking suspicious vehicles near—ahhh!"

  "But I have to park it here to keep an eye on it while I smash you," a familiar female voice replied. Lars' hope soared. "You down there, get back!" Something hit the wall loudly above the cell window and it crumbled, leaving a hole big enough for a man to crawl through. Cart-Dragger leaned over and reached down. "Well come on, climb up. I already did the hard work."

  He took her hand and she pulled him out, followed by Allen. Behind them, the guard ran up the stairs yelling "Jailbreak!" Seconds later, him and two
other men stepped out of a door and joined them on the street. "She's trying to free them!"

  Cart-Dragger sighed. "Trying? Do you see them still in their cell? And, do the three of you really think to stop me?" She gave her great hammer a twirl. The men hesitated, then one charged raising his sword. His head disappeared in an explosion of blood, gray bits and bone, and his body flopped almost comically to the ground.

  "M-monster!" the blond guard sputtered, and sprinted away with the other one.

  "I'm offended," Cart-Dragger said. "I'm a nice girl."

  Lars looked around, spotted another body stuck like a dart into the jail wall. Must be the first man who screamed. "Thanks for saving us, but why did you come back? I thought you said you were going to leave us."

  "I did say that. But because you were so determined to see the city, when you didn't return after two hours, I figured you must be in trouble. Since I thought I might be able to make some potential coin getting you out of trouble, I talked to the locals and found out what happened. When I learned you were being kept here, well the rest is obvious."

  "You can talk to people? That's a little surprising."

  "What? Are you confusing me with someone else? Why wouldn't I be able to? If you're making a joke about me being monster-like..." Her mouth twitched.

  "Anyway, we should get out of here before reinforcements arrive."

  She looked questioningly at him. "Get out of here why? Knowing how he acts, I say the time is now to strike and end his reign."

  "Are you sure? He still has over sixty men. Maybe we should fall back and come up with a plan before doing anything else."

  "Sixty common ruffians isn't that much. Weren't you fifty sellswords losing badly to that God Soldier, and I dealt with it easily enough?"

  He still wasn't sure taking the fight to Norm would be a good idea. "Yeah, I guess. Fighting one strong opponent isn't the same as fighting dozens trying to hit you separately, though."