Clay Legionary (Clay Warrior Stories Book 1)

by J. Clifton Slater

  “We’re lucky to find a guide, on the other hand, we’re running short of coin,” explained Ceyx. “We’ve enough for the boy guide, the food and maybe the packs and mittens. The coats and hats, well, I wonder if the tanner gives credit?”

  Chapter 71 - Coin of the Realm and Other Currencies

  The tanner took pity on the Legionaries by offering to hold the moldy fur coats and hats until morning. It wasn’t much of a deal as he was just closing up shop for the night.

  Alerio and Ceyx left the tanner’s dejected.

  “We could always cheat Brianus,” suggested Ceyx. “Send him the payment when we get back to the Raider Post.”

  “Sure and have a friend of the Golden Valley mad at us,” Alerio said. “Just what I need, two vendettas against me by a single assassin’s organization.”

  “The Dulce Pugno can only kill you once,” Ceyx explained.

  “If I were on a Legion Post, how would I raise coin?” Alerio asked. Then, he answered his own question, “At the Heavy Infantry. They’re always up for a bet.”

  “You mean men who make their living by the sword?” Ceyx said. “As in caravan guards?”

  “Exactly,” Alerio replied.

  They continued to a cross street and turned West towards the stockyards. At the open air building, they stepped into the torch light.

  “Anybody care to place a bet against the best swordsman in the West?” Ceyx announced.

  The response was under whelming. No one stepped up.

  Finally, a man stood. He was massive with legs the size of Ceyx’s waist.

  “No one here sword fights,” he rumbled. “You get cut, you can’t work. You don’t work, you don’t get paid. So, no one swords fights.”

  “So what do you bet on?” asked the Legionary.

  “These,” the man said holding up a club and laughing. “We have club fights. A man can work with a broken collar bone. Or a broken arm.”

  The club was carved from the wood of a hardwood tree. One end tapered to fit a hand or two, while the other end formed a knot of wood resembling a large fist; a crippling weapon as Ceyx’s arm and ribs could attest.

  “Alright, who’s first?” Alerio offered while Ceyx was still thinking of the ramifications of being hit with the club.

  “My oxen are the fastest on the caravan trail,” the giant bragged. “Want to know why? Because, I don’t spare the club. I’m your first swordsman. And your last.”

  A club came flying across the room. Alerio deftly snagged it from the air. He inspected the weapon. It was about an arm’s length long and far lighter than a practice gladius.

  “Are you going to fight him?” Ceyx asked. “He’s a large man.”

  “The club isn’t much different than a wooden gladius,” Alerio responded. “Except, it’s not sharp, it’s longer, it’s top heavy, and the other guy is a giant. All that considered, yes, I’m going to fight him.”

  Bets began to pile up. Alerio’s held a few coins, most of them placed by Ceyx. The giant’s pile in comparison loomed over his opponent’s pile. There was a parallel there but no one in the building cared. This crowd enjoyed raw strength and skill regardless of the difference in height and weight.

  The giant came in with a shoulder level sweep designed to knock his opponent down and, more than likely, out. Most people would have ducked under the powerful arc to avoid the club’s head. Alerio noticed the giant had all of his weight on his back leg leaving the forward leg free to strike out.

  He wants to kick me, thought the Legionary as he jumped above the sweeping club. On the way down, Alerio shot out a foot and kicked the giant’s front leg. The big man rotated on the over weighted rear leg and Alerio ran up to his blind side and clubbed him in the head. The giant toppled to the ground.

  The giant drover laid moaning and unable to stand. Even with the yells and words of encouragement from the spectators, he was incapable of continuing the fight.

  “That went well,” Alerio said as he walked to where Ceyx was counting their winnings.

  “Better still,” Ceyx observed as he placed the coins in a pouch. “One fight and because of the odds, we are done here.”

  “Hold on a second,” advised Alerio.

  He walked over to the giant who was struggling to stand. Alerio picked up the large man’s club and spun both clubs around with twists of his wrists. After wind milling them so fast they became a blur, he stopped and rested the clubs on his shoulders.

  “Anyone else what a shot?” he asked.

  A round of applause was his answer. He handed one club to the big man, set the other down, and marched with Ceyx out of the building. His display of weapons handling was impressive agreed most of the men in the building. One man who had missed the fight, also failed to appreciate the performance.

  He was a thick boned man with massive shoulder muscles. His posture was distorted because he stooped. Most knew him as a sullen person with a mean temper and few friends. He didn’t pay attention to the fight, but when Alerio put on the show, he recognized the young man straight away.

  The last time he’d laid eyes on the farm boy, they were in a jail cell. Legionaries removed the drunken boy before the brute knew there was a bounty on the boy’s head. The Cruor gang wanted the farm boy dead or alive. And, they would pay handsomely for either. His usual demeanor vanished and he smiled at the idea of the fates dropping a fortune into his lap.

  Alerio and Ceyx strolled happily to the building with individual bedding areas. They paid for two, walked to the sleeping cubes, and separated. Exhausted, the Legionaries laid down without exchanging word. It had been a long day and both needed rest. It would, after all, be an even longer day tomorrow.

  The brute waited until the middle of the night. He knelt by the hostel manager’s bedroll and woke him with the point of a knife.

  “Two men rented beds. One wrapped in bandages,” he whispered. “The other one is a big lad. Where is the younger one sleeping?”

  “They wanted to be along the back wall,” the frightened manager whispered. “The big guy is in the cell second from the right.”

  “Stay still and stay quiet,” the brute ordered. “It’ll all be over in a minute.”

  The cells were separated by chest high walls of wood. It gave the place a fresh smell and afforded some privacy and security for the guests. Between the cells, aisles led front to back, and rows ran between lines of cells.

  The brute inched alone the aisle and down the row to the right. At the second cell from the end, he stopped at the entrance to the cell. Alerio lay on his side cradling the side of his head. The knot on back of his head was painful so there was no way to lay on his back. The brute raised his knife and paused. He wanted to study his cash prize for an instant.

  The first dog sailed over the chest high wall and attached his teeth to the arm holding the knife. The second dog turned the corner and latched onto the brute’s lower leg. Between the weight of the dogs, their leverage, and the pressure of the canine teeth breaking skin, they easily took him to the floor.

  Alerio came up with the gladius in his hand. Before he could make sense of the growling and screaming, the manager came running up with a torch.

  “Please, please everything is under control,” the manager assured him, “Just a little disturbance.”

  To the dogs, he whistled three time. The dogs began pulling the injured brute down the row. At the aisle, the manager whistled twice and the dogs dragged him down the aisle and out onto the street.

  Alerio followed and ended up standing beside the manager.

  “He asked for your cell,” the manager said as he dispassionately watched the dogs chew on the brute.

  “I wish I had an opportunity to speak with him,” said Alerio.

  The manager whistled once and the dogs let go and stepped back three feet.

  “Take as long as you like,” the manager said to him.

  Alerio took a knee and shuddered at the sight of the half chewed arms and legs.

  “W
hy come after me?” he asked.

  “The Cruor reward,” the brute said. Then begged. “Please no more dogs.”

  Alerio stood. “He’s all yours,” Alerio announced as he walked to the manager’s side.

  The manager whistled four sharp notes. There was no growling this time. A single scream issued from the brute’s throat before a dog ripped it out.

  “Merchants stay here and they are targets for robbers,” explained the manager. “Others stay here and they have enemies. All my guests are protected by my boys.”

  He whistled one long note and the dogs come trotting over to the manager. He bent down and ignoring the blood on their muzzles gave each a friendly rub on their head.

  Alerio went back to bed but sleep wouldn’t come. He lay there thinking about the Cruor gang and the Dulce Pugno. Both wanted him dead. He hoped to resolve the dispute with one in the next few weeks. And, hopefully, not disappoint the bounty hunters from the other, by dying.

  Chapter 72 - Mountain Trails and Quail

  Brianus led Alerio and Ceyx across the mountain route, and behind the warehouses before climbing a foothill. Brianus and Alerio had no trouble with the steep but short hill. Ceyx on the other hand struggled.

  They traveled along the crest of the hill for several hours. At one point, Brianus stopped, pulled a big knife, and proceeded to chop down a young sapling. He flattened one end and left two prongs on the other. After inspecting it, he handed the walking stick to Ceyx.

  “Up hill, use it as a staff,” he directed. “Downhill, use it as a crutch.”

  Without another word, the teen stepped off the crest and slid down the hill. At the bottom, he crossed a narrow basin and started up a much taller hill on the other side.

  By midafternoon, they left the foothills behind and were traversing the first mountain. Tough as nails Ceyx put one foot in front of the other and stayed with his two companions. When he finally stumbled, Alerio dropped back and took his pack.

  “I can manage,” protested the Light Infantryman.

  “I know. It’s just the thin air requires me to carry a heaver load,” Alerio said with sincerity as he slung the pack’s strap over his shoulder.

  He stepped away and marched after Brianus. It took a few seconds for the exhausted Ceyx to process the concept.

  “What. That doesn’t make sense,” pleaded Ceyx. “Thin air makes it harder to breathe.”

  “That’s not how I heard it,” Alerio replied looking back. He was happy to see Ceyx climbing faster without the weight of the pack.

  They settled in a camp site and after dinner, Ceyx was the first to fall asleep.

  In the week that followed, they climbed up a mountain and down the far side. Brianus knew the trails and when possible, selected gentle sloping paths. He even supplemented their rations with fresh meat.

  As they started up the second mountain, Brianus held up a hand. The guide turned and placed a finger over his lips for silence. Alerio and Ceyx as trained Legionaries, took a knee to lower their profiles.

  “The mountain quail are stirring,” Brianus whispered after softly creeping back to them.

  “What does that mean?” Ceyx asked.

  “Quail are lazy cowards. When small animals move, the birds sit and watch,” Brianus replied. “When something big moves through the mountains, the quail fly away. Up ahead, the quail are flying away.”

  “So what is it?” Alerio asked.

  “If I knew that,” Brianus bragged. “I’d be the greatest hunter, in all the mountains, in all the world.”

  He slung his backpack off and untied one of the three bows tied to it. After removing the leather cover, he bent the bow and strung the bow string.

  “Wait here,” he whispered before slipping away into the foliage on the side of the hill.

  Alerio and Ceyx stayed diligent. They divided the area and one scanned in one direction while the other watched the other way. An hour later there was a crash in the trees, breaking branches and snapping twigs. The sound grew closer. Finally, Brianus appeared dragging a large boar.

  “This is a problem,” announced Brianus.

  “Why?” asked Alerio.

  “Because we need to stay here for a day while we smoke and eat as much pork as we can stiff into our mouths,” the young hunter said with a smile.

  “That is a disaster,” Ceyx said. “a real shame.”

  The rest and the extra protein did wonders for Ceyx. While he still struggled over the next mountain range, he wasn’t a drag on Brianus and Alerio.

  A week later, Brianus pointed up at a steep ridge. They were in a saddle between higher peaks. The profile of the mountain dipped above them creating a passageway to the higher elevation.

  “The Golden Valley is up there and to the right,” he announced.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Alerio.

  “I’ve never been there,” admitted Brianus. “The children told me. When we arrived at this spot, three adults were waiting. They questioned me. Gave me supplies including two small jars of honey and sent me away. I stayed and watched the children scamper up the slope. If they can make it, you can as well. Goodbye my friends.”

  The hunter spun and jogged into the tree line. In seconds, his form was swallowed by the dark green of the forest.

  Ceyx and Alerio turned and eyed the slope. It looked just like the hundreds of others they’d climbed over the last few weeks. Hopefully, this one would lead to the Golden Valley and a satisfactory settlement with the Dulce Pugno.

  Chapter 73 - Natural Defensive Position

  Ceyx and Alerio found flat ground at the top with a thin forest of hardy mountain pines. As directed, they turned right and with pine needles crunching under foot headed towards the Golden Valley.

  The ridge to their right rose and its broadening base forced them to angle towards the center of the flat land. Soon they walked in a mountain meadow with steep slopes rising on both sides. After an hour of angling further to the left, they stepped from the pines and stopped next to a fast moving stream.

  On the other side of the stream, an over grown wagon trail meandered through the center of the dale. They hopped from rock to rock to cross the stream.

  “Signs of human passage,” Ceyx announced as he examined the wagon wheel marks. “Not much traffic but enough ruts to show years of usage.”

  “Any recent use?” Alerio asked.

  “If you mean a two wheeled cart hauling a fat, ugly Rebel?” Ceyx stated. “No, I believe young Brianus was as good as his word. We’re ahead of Speckled Pheasant.”

  “Then let’s find out what’s ahead of us,” suggested Alerio.

  Ceyx used the staff to straighten up. Alerio helped him adjust his pack and they stepped off heading deeper into the valley.

  “This is incredible,” explained Ceyx. “In the legend, the escaping families fought snow and freezing weather to pass through this beautiful place. It doesn’t seem so terrifying now.”

  “Look up at the high peaks towering over the ridges,” Alerio suggested. “Even in summer they’re snowcapped. In winter, I expect the wind would blow feet of snow up this valley. It wouldn’t be a pleasant place after a blizzard.”

  “Still, it’s beautiful,” insisted Ceyx. “I wonder how far it is to the Golden Valley.”

  “More importantly,” Alerio pondered. “How far to the valley’s defenses?”

  They were an hour into the march when they discovered the answer to Alerio’s question.

  It started with being tracked. A bush ruffling, a twig snapping, and the flash of a small body racing between clumps of trees. Soon, the signs of being stalked vanished. Yet, the feeling of being watched was there and the rising hairs on the backs of the Legionaries’ necks continued to warn them.

  As the uneasy silence stretched into an hour, Alerio held up a hand.

  “We are being watched,” he announced.

  “Yes, bright boy,” teased Ceyx. “What was your fist clue? The little boys running between trees or the lack
of birds singing?”

  “Let’s invite them in for a meal and a conversation,” suggested Alerio.

  “Or to get our throats cut by assassins,” Ceyx said as he stepped off the trail and choose a spot next to the stream, “Here is as good a place to die as any.”

  While the Legionary had been joking, the camp site was carefully selected. Far across the valley, on the other side of the wagon trail, laid the tree line. Only low growth occupied the ground between the camp and those trees. An enemy would be visible while crossing the field.

  On the backside of the camp site, anyone attacking from across the stream would need to wade through icy mountain water to reach the camp. The trees on the other side of the mountain stream grew farther back, probably from years of spring flooding that washed away any young trees trying to take root in the flood plain.

  The final reason for the camp site was a large boulder resting on the edge of the stream. About shoulder high, it afforded a small defensive position against arrows. It also provided a wind break for the three campfires.

  At each campfire, Ceyx skewed hunks of boar with sticks. Alerio tented green tree limbs to hold the meat over the flame. Soon, their area of the valley began to fill with the aroma of roasting pork.

  “Why do you think our stalkers will be hungry?” Ceyx asked as he leaned on the staff and the boulder to ease his way to the ground.

  “Because I’m hungry,” replied Alerio. “And I couldn’t smell smoke in the air. If the watchers patrol far out from the Golden Valley, they, like us, are eating jerky. Let’s see if they’ll come out for a hot meal.”

  Two of the campfires blazed and smoked on either side of the boulder. Ceyx and Alerio were sitting at the center fire. They could see around the sides of the boulder and used it for cover if attacked.

  A man dressed in green and brown leathers came from the tree line across the wagon trail. His gait was smooth, a big hunting bow rested in his hand with a quiver of arrows strapped tightly to his hip and thigh. This was the tell. A hunter didn’t care if his quiver moved as he would be stationary when going for a shot. A warrior required all of his equipment to be tightly strapped to his body to prevent snagging while he changed positions in battle.