Amos, my father’s closest advisor and friend walked slowly up to be by my side slowly. He had a slight limp and wore a leg brace with a piston on either side to aid in his walking. With every step he took the pistons hissed and kept him upright. A bear pelt, consisting of various shades of brown, draped over his shoulders and hung down past his back to his knees. His hand-crafted goggles were almost a part of him. They helped with his failing eyesight and gave him something resembling super sight. He was in his late ninety’s and had served my father as well as my grandfather, but looked almost as young as me. After being attacked by a bear when he was younger, an attack that left him lame in the leg and nearly blind, the ancestors blessed him with health and lasting youth.
Amos stopped in front of me to pay his respects, “Forgive my tardiness, Chief Leader, I was fixing my eyes.” He tapped on his goggles as he spoke.
That was the first time anyone had called me Chief Leader and it felt good, it felt right.
“No need to forgive, you have always been my father’s most loyal friend,” I told him with my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “You have always served my father and his father, now I hope you will serve me.”
“As long as I live, my Chief. I will be by your side,” Amos said.
“My old friend, if that is to be the case, we must find you the fountain of youth.”
Amos laughed, “May the ancestors allow it.”
He took a seat just behind me and sat in silence. The celebration went on ‘till nearly dawn, when all that was left was a small pile of ashes. I made it a point to be the last one to leave, and as I walked past the ashes that were once my father, I felt a shiver run down my back. I stopped to listen to what the ancestors had to say. I felt an assurance that if I do what is needed, my vision will come to past.
Chapter Two
My camp wasn’t always on the edge of a dry lake bed, it was once on the edge of a beautiful lake surrounded by fields and tall trees. The camp was set out in a horseshoe shape with houses and shops. My house sat at the top of the horseshoe with the medicine woman’s house next to it, which my mother moved into permanently after my father died. My home was modest and looked like all the others, made of scraps and whatever nature and the ancestors provided us. At the center of the horseshoe was a small fire pit for evening gatherings. It was a tradition that at night we would gather there for dinner, music and good company. Around the camp stood a tall and thick wall made of stone steel parts gathered over the generations, at the far end of the wall were two large gates with guard towers on either side.
My father said that the collar was only to be worn at ceremony, but once a month he would wear it to our nightly gatherings, it was a reminder of the weight of the people that he spent time with, and reaffirmed to the people that he was there for them, to bear their burden.
I knew that if the rains did not return, we would have to move the camp to new lands. That is why the upcoming hunt was so important. We needed meat and soon we might need a new place to live as well.
The great war upset the earth and that’s what drove the ancestors to the heavens. Once they were safe in Zion, the earth turned against her people and began to show her anger to those who were left behind. She poisoned her ground so that nothing would grow for generations, she also poisoned the very air that her people needed to survive. A great portion of her people were killed, even before the great fires swept the earth. People and animals were victims of earth’s anger, and perhaps our own hatred toward each other.
Over many generations, the earth began to show forgiveness. She allowed things to once again grow in her soil. Rivers and streams began to flow with fresh water once again, the air was clean and easy to breath, and the forests grew tall. She still reminds us of her anger by taking it all away when she feels a reminder is in order. This is what drives us to move nearly every generation. Sometimes, just as we think it might be time to move on, the rains return and things become green once again.
Whatever it takes, I will do what is necessary to protect my people. If I must move them I want to be ready. If we are attacked, I need to be ready for that as well. As a people we must not simply survive, but we must thrive and grow.
If I am to bring peace to all the camps, clans and tribes of the world, I must first make sure that mine is so strong that others would beg to join us.
The morning after my collaring ceremony I woke late, but I felt like a new person. I was revived and felt the ancestors all around me. I looked at the collar that hung on the wall near my bed. My father was right to make a spot for it there, it was the first thing I saw when I woke and the last thing I saw when I went to sleep. I dressed that morning and before heading out of the room, I put on my holster and gun. Every Chief Leader had a weapon that was unique to them, their warrior symbol.
My father had a rifle that never left his side, mine is my enchanted revolver, made by my own hands. I call it Frankenhine, from a story my mother told me about a doctor who stitched together people to make a monster. Stories from before the war are rare and are probably nothing like the original, but I liked the way my mother told it. It was a story of a monster trying to become human, then embracing his uniqueness. This is what I have done with my unique revolver, assembled from many guns. Most pieces had to be filed down to fit, which is most likely why I could never get it to fire on its own. The leather straps I wrapped around the grip and the barrel are remnants of my very first kill, bits of the pelt I had kept for years. It serves as my connection to the power my mother put into the weapon, a connection to the earth.
My house was small, with the kitchen, dining room and living room all sharing the same space. I took a seat at my table with what little food I could gather and my mind was wondering all over the place. I couldn’t seem to focus on one thing.
My mother walked in and took a seat across the table from me, she held in her hand a small pouch which she placed on the table in front of her. She stared at me as I stared at the pouch.
“Want to know what gift I brought you?” she asked with an almost arrogant tone.
I said nothing as I stuffed my mouth with a not so fresh piece of bread.
“I know you’re dying to know what’s in there,” She laughed as she gripped the pouch.
I swallowed loudly then spoke up, “My mother taught me to be patient.”
“Finally listening to your mother?” She questioned as she opened the pouch and pulled out six vials of red liquid and placed them, lined up in front of her with the pouch next to them.
“Can you guess?” She asked.
“Ghost pee? Tears of the elusive sasquatch? The blood of a vampire?” I was being facetious, and my mother knew it, she slouched before she spoke.
“Protection for you and your hunting party. Drink it the day you leave and it will help you, it will allow the ancestors to watch over you.”
“Don’t they already?” I asked.
My mother looked at me and smiled, but said nothing. She then placed the six vials back in the pouch and pulled a string which sealed it, “Keep it with you over the next few days. It will help you choose your hunting party,” she said as she slid the pouch across the table to me.
Karline walked in as I grabbed the pouch and tied it to my belt. She bowed her head to me out of respect.
“Please,” I said as I stood. “That’s not necessary, Karline.”
“You are my Chief Leader, it’s what is right.” She took a seat at the table next to my mother, and I took my seat once again. “How does it feel to be the Chief Leader of the Valley People?” she asked almost as if she was too afraid to speak.
“I’m still Jacob. You don’t have to treat me like I’m a stranger,” I said, not wanting to change the friendship her and I have had over the many years.
“You didn’t answer her question,” my mother said with urgency.
“A question you must have too, mother,” I said.
“I can’t deny that. I need to know how my son is doing.”
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“You two have nothing to worry about, I am my father’s son,” I paused. “And my mother’s,” I continued.
“Have you read his death book yet?” My mother asked.
The death book was a Chief Leaders journal. He wrote down everything he thought his predecessor might need to know as well as the events he thought would be important. Since my father reigned for so long, the book was larger than those from the past leaders and I hadn’t read it yet; I told my mother as much.
“Be sure to read it before your trip, all of it,” she began. “It has very important information in it. It will lay out your father’s plans, in detail. Things he never told you, things he never told me. It is the most important thing you will ever read. It will help you in your reign,” my mother continued.
“I will,” I told her, but I had no intention of reading the whole thing, not in one sitting and not in three days.
I would take it with me and read from it as I had time. I had a hard time listening to my mother, except when it came to magic and medicine. I hung on every word when she spoke of them. I guess I was just like any other son, disobedient and a bit wild.
Amos walked in and knelt with his head hung.
“My chief,” he said like a common subject in a medieval court.
“Please,” I plead. “Stand up Amos,” I said as I stood.
Amos stood and spoke softly, “Pardon my intrusion, but we need to speak.”
He turned and left my home. I knew he wanted me to follow, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave the house. He turned and looked back in at me.
“Give me a moment,” I told him.
He walked away and I returned to my seat at the table. I felt my mother and Karline staring at me as I concentrated on what little food I had left on my plate trying to ignore their looks.
“What is it?” my mother asked.
I could tell she had real concern in her voice, but I still didn’t want to talk to her. To be honest, I didn’t really know what my fear was at that time. I was comfortable with my new role, I just didn’t want to go out and face my people, not at that moment.
“Are you afraid of your new duties? Afraid of failure?” my mother asked.
It made me mad to hear her questioning me. I looked up at her with a glare, “I am not afraid of my duties.”
It was at that moment that I realized what my fear was. It was my people. I didn’t want to deal with them bugging me, “I need help with this,” “Can you fix this?” “What are you going to do about that?”
The constant nagging and bugging me to fix all of their problems. I wanted time, but I knew I didn’t have it.
I stood hesitantly, looked down at my mother and Karline, then I left the safety of my home against my better judgement.
Once outside I took a long look around and watched as my people went about their business. They hadn’t yet noticed me and were going on like it was just another day. That is what I wanted for them, always. I wanted them to just go about their lives, happily enjoying themselves.
As I took a few steps, they began to notice me. They looked at me, bowed their heads slightly as a sign of respect then continued doing their own thing. I was surprised, I thought they would flock to me, asking for favors.
As I crossed the camp, on my way to see Amos in his home, I looked around in wonder and, to be honest, that fear was still there. Every life that I saw in the camp was my responsibility. I felt like a father walking across the camp and looking over my children.
As I got to Amos’ house at the far end of the camp I paused, turned and looked back to see that, still, the camp was not focused on me.
“They are your people now, and they love you,” Amos said.
I turned to my father’s friend as he stood in the doorway. I turned back toward the people in the camp, “But, do they trust me?” I asked.
“They will.”
Amos turned and walked inside his home, leaving the door open.
I followed my new advisor and stood in his doorway.
“You’ll want to close the door,” he said.
I glanced back one more time, then I closed the door and walked into the house. It was set up much like mine, small, but large enough for the one person who resided there. Amos leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed his forehead in frustration.
“What is it, Amos?” I asked.
His troubled look and body language concerned me, as did his hesitation.
“I received word that a large group of people are heading our way. They look like a clan, or tribe. The have women, old people and children,” Amos said before adjusting his goggles.
“Arms?” I asked, needing to know what might be at our doorstep.
“A few men leading the group are armed with rapid guns.”
Rapid guns fire bullets without having to pull the trigger with each shot. They are deadly and can kill a large group quickly. We have a few rapid guns in our camp, but we only use them when absolutely needed. We have enough hand guns and rifles and some of our rifles are powerful enough and can be used almost like a rapid gun. With this large group heading our way wielding rapid guns, I knew I had to do something, and quick.
“How many would you say?” I asked.
“Fifty, maybe more. They are coming from the east.”
The eastern lands are unknown to my people. We keep to the north and the west. Southern lands are dead or dying and the eastern lands are beyond a great mountain range and have kept us blocked from those lands. With the arrival of these eastern people, I will be able to pick their brains about what lies to the east, or I will have to kill them and never know.
“How close?” I asked him, needing to determine how long we have to prepare.
“They’ll be in sight within the hour.”
“Then I need four men to come with me.”
Amos looked confused as he spoke, “Are you going to meet them out there?”
“I must. If we know what they want before they get here, we can plan accordingly,” I paused for a moment before continuing. “Meet me at the gate with some men in ten minutes.”
I left the house in a hurry and made my way back to my place, where I found my mother and Karline still sitting at the kitchen table. My face must have spoken to them louder than the words I kept to myself.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
“People, heading our way. I need both of you to go to the edge of the gate and watch them when I go out there,” I said firmly.
“Out there?” My mother questioned as she stood. “Why not wait in the safety of the camp?”
“There are too many of them to just wait. It’s an entire clan’s worth of people, including women, old people and children. I cannot wait, I cannot risk the lives of my people, especially on my first day as Chief Leader.”
“Watch yourself out there. I will call to the ancestors and do what I can from the gate,” my mother said.
Karline stood from her chair and looked at me with concern, but said nothing. Teacher and student left my house to do their thing and I went to my room to retrieve what I called my outside gear. It was a chest plate made up of several layers of hardened leather and tightly woven plant fibers. The plate stops most bullets and all blades. I then grabbed the scope for my pistol. After attaching it to the barrel of my gun, I headed to gate to meet Amos.
Waiting for me at the gate was not only Amos, but Mathew, Mark and Luke. The Johnson triplets were the best soldiers we had in camp; raised to follow some ancient religion, the triplets were strong, fierce and nearly unstoppable.
Mathew was the oldest, by a few minutes and was the strongest of the three. They were identical triplets and made sure nobody could ever tell them apart. When one got injured in any way, the others would duplicate the wound. They kept their heads shaved as smooth as their faces and always wore the same clothes. Despite all their attempts, I could always tell the three apart.
Their bond made them unstoppable, and even though they didn’t believ
e in the ancestors, at the time, I was sure they watched over the three brothers and gave them their strength.
“What do we have here, sir?” Mathew asked.
“We don’t know yet,” I asserted.
“We have a large group heading our way. It looks to be an entire tribe group, with families. But we can’t be too sure, it could be a trick,” Amos added.
The brothers loaded a round into their rifles, “What’s the plan?” Mathew asked.
My mother and her student joined us at the gate as I signaled to the keeper to open it. It was a heavy door and even with the gears, chains, ropes and weights, it still took a moment or two to open it.
“Mother, do you see anything?” I asked.
She could sometimes see things that most others couldn’t. Sometimes she could tell the intentions of outsiders.
“I see nothing, feel nothing. They could still be too far away,” she turned to Karline. “What do you feel?” she asked.
“There are more than what you can see. Watch yourself,” Karline warned.
When she was using her gift, her left eye would twitch, just a little. It was a way for me to tell what was going on. I knew everything about everyone in camp and I paid attention to every little detail about them all. That is why I could tell the triplets apart when nobody else could.
The gate came to a stop with a loud screeching noise. I looked up at the keeper, Fletcher.
“How far off?” I yelled to him.
He peered into his scope and watched for a moment, no doubt working out the distance and time it would take them to reach us.
“Forty-five, maybe, at their current speed,” he paused a moment, “No, bit more.”
“Do you see any stragglers, or anyone one at the sides trying to hide?” I yelled up to him.
“Not that I can see,” he yelled without taking his eye from his scope.
“You keep an eye on us out there and get ready to close the gate as soon as we are clear,” I told him.
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