Chapter 23
The boys with the spears dictated their pace, a slow trudge through the long grass. William could do slow; although, the longer they took to get wherever they were heading, the longer it would be before they discovered their fate.
The dew in the long grass turned William’s trousers cold and heavy with damp. The fabric rubbed against his thighs.
Every time William turned to look at one of the others, the sharp sting of a spear tip jabbed into the back of his neck, and the hunter behind him hissed. He’d managed one or two shared looks with Matilda, and her face told him everything he needed to know. Outnumbered and weaponless, they had no chance against these hunters. Not yet at least.
The spear tip pressed against William’s neck again. He spun away from it, turning to the hunter behind him. Several more spears shot up, an array of tips now inches from his face. His heart quickened. “Look, we’re doing what you want us to. I get you can kill me should you feel the need, so how about you ease up a little, yeah? We’d be mad to try anything stupid.”
The hunter’s bright blue eyes shone and he bared his teeth, hissing at William again. A shaved head and topless like the rest of his crew, he had deep purple scars around his neck as if someone had made several attempts to behead him. Although he continued to glare at William and his expression remained unchanged, he showed the slightest concession by pulling his spear back.
A hand clamped on William’s right shoulder. He jumped and spun around. The leader of the pack, the boy with streaks of red in his hair and stubble, smiled. His hazel eyes remained cold and sharp. Intelligent and calculating.
“I’m William,” William said.
The hunter dipped a nod. “Slate.”
“Pleased to meet you.” What the hell was he doing? Pleased to meet you? The hunters were one step away from slaughtering them. “Although—” William scoffed a laugh “—it would have been nice to meet you in different circumstances. Now we’ve finally introduced ourselves, can you tell me what you’re planning to do with us?”
Slate squinted against the wind. He gripped his spear with both hands before turning his back on William and scanning the meadow ahead. “We’d rather not kill you, if that’s what you mean. We’re going to take you to our community and look after you.”
“Look after?”
“There’s no subtext there, William. We genuinely mean you no harm.”
“Then forgive me for asking, but if you mean us no harm, why are you holding us hostage?”
“We’re as cautious of you as you are of us. It’s a wild world. I’d call it a healthy suspicion. Let’s use this time to get to know one another and not do anything stupid, yeah? Sudden movements like the one you just pulled make us jumpy.”
“We don’t want to fight you,” William said.
“Look, kid, we don’t know that.”
Kid? William clenched his jaw. Slate couldn’t have been any more than two years older than him at the most. “But why get us to drop our weapons? Why didn’t you just take them from us?”
“Swords are crass and clumsy.”
“They’ve done right by us so far.”
“They didn’t stop you getting ambushed, did they?” Slate then pointed in the direction they were heading with the tip of his spear. He raised the end of it to his right eye and looked down its shaft as if to assess its straightness. “Why use a sword when you have something as graceful as this? Also, how many deer have you taken down with a blade?”
Led by Slate, they set off again. The hunters without prisoners marched like an army. Straight backed, stepping in time, they also scanned their surroundings. They were ready for war. And a good job too.
The long grass swished as the creatures tore through it. Despite their screams, rattling breaths, and clumsy steps, the overgrown meadow hid them from sight.
The hunters turned their backs to William and his friends and formed a ring around them, their spears pointing out. Three of them remained inside the ring, guarding their prisoners.
When Max looked at him, William raised his eyebrows. Could he get them out of this somehow? They’d have his back if he made a move.
The hunter who’d shepherded William with his spear launched his attack. Propelled by his thick and bulging arms, his shot landed true, slamming into the creature’s face, the tip bursting out through the back of its head.
The rest of the mob appeared. They were about fifteen feet away. Ten spears, maybe more, launched from all around them. Every attack landed, dropping the creatures as they ran.
Before the diseased got to within arm’s length, they were all wiped out. Half the hunters still held onto their weapons, including Slate. Those who’d already thrown theirs had another one strapped to their back, which they were yet to draw.
The hunters cleaned their weapons on the wet grass while Slate turned to his prisoners. He maintained his two-handed grip on his spear. “See, it can be used both up close and from a distance.” It took for him to pull the long knife with a curved blade from his belt for William to see they all had them. “And if they get too close, which they rarely do, we have these.”
“What about the other spear?” William said. “Why didn’t any of the hunters draw the extra one?”
“That’s for hunting game. We try to keep them free of diseased blood.”
Before the attack, the hunters had been stoic. Now they’d sated their lust for destruction, their frames were more relaxed, and several of them even smiled as they rejoined the group—all except the one with the scars around his neck. If anything, he frowned harder than before and shoulder barged William as he passed him.
Slate led them away. “Look,” he said, “we really want this to work out. Experience has taught us to be cautious of other people, and for the sake of us and our community, we will maintain that caution. But we always want things to go smoothly. We’d rather make friends than enemies. I’m sure you understand.”
William didn’t want to speak for the group, but none of them appeared to want to speak for themselves—not even Olga, and for as long as he had known her, she’d always had something to say. “We understand,” he finally said. “Now where are you taking us?”
They crested a small hill, the landscape opening up in front of them, and the long grass swayed in the wind. A large stone structure stood in the distance. The remains of an old castle, it had been repurposed to be the front of a community, the rest of the space penned in with wooden fencing similar to the one around Magma’s fortress—too similar, in fact. Thick wooden stakes the size of tree trunks, sharpened to enough of a point to send a message. The community they’d seen on the map. “This is where we were heading,” William said. “Is this where you’re from?”
“Why were you heading for us?”
“We want to find somewhere else to live. We came from Edin on the other side of the ruins. The gates were left open and the place fell.” William’s cheeks burned under the intensity of Olga’s glare.
“Well, let’s hope this works out.”
Maybe William imagined the way Slate glanced at Matilda. What plans did he have for her? For him and her? No, he’d imagined it. He couldn’t let his paranoia take over.
“We’re always looking for useful members for our little society. Can you hunt, kid?”
And there it goes again. Kid!
“I reckon I can,” Olga said.
Although Slate maintained a straight face, several of the hunters snorted laughs at Olga’s suggestion.
“What?” she said.
“Women don’t hunt in our community,” Slate said.
“You worried they’ll show you up?”
It had to be more than paranoia. Slate definitely directed his reply at Matilda. “We believe in looking after our women. They’re too valuable to us to send into the wild lands.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Olga said. “Another word for it is oppression.”
William’s heart sank. They were so close to the commun
ity. If she didn’t wind her neck in, it could all go to shit. Thankfully, Slate didn’t reply, and thankfully, Olga let it slide.
“What about you, kid?” Slate said.
“William.”
“Huh?”
“My name’s William.”
“Whatever. What really matters is are you any good with a spear?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Matilda’s eyes widened. Hopefully, the hunters missed it. He’d never used a spear in his life, but what else could he say to the jumped-up prick? He’d been eyeing his girl, calling him kid, and his gang still had them at spear point. Other than his honeyed words, everything about this group emanated hostility. But at least they were still alive. And until the gang proved otherwise, they had to take them at their word.
Slate smiled. “Good. We need more hunters.”
“Good.” At some point, William would have to back up his claim.
Chapter 24
As they drew closer to the fort, the hunters finally lowered their spears. They were clearly still ready to use them, but at least they showed William and the others some respect by allowing them to walk their own path. Maybe they had made the right choice in seeking out this community after all.
Unlike the others, Slate slid his spear into the holder on his back—tip down so it didn’t contaminate the deer-hunting spear. While walking backwards in front of the group, he spread his arms wide. “Welcome to Umbriel. It’s not much, but it’s home. I’m not an historian, but it doesn’t take a genius to see this place used to be a castle.”
The hunter to William’s left had his spear just in reach. If he moved fast enough, he could disarm him and attack. But where would that get them? They’d be overwhelmed in seconds.
The old castle had been built from large grey rocks, each one at least two feet square. The windows were small slits no more than six inches wide. The heads of what looked like children ran along the walkway, visible as they flashed past the lower parts of the toothy design topping the wall. Like many of the buildings from a lost world, some of the castle had collapsed, the right side considerably lower than the left. Large grey rocks littered the landscape, nestled in amongst the long grass.
“Our elders made the gates under the instruction of Grandfather Jacks,” Slate said. “And we built the wooden wall out the back. It’s proven to be a good front to Umbriel. It keeps the diseased at bay.” He then led them down a short and steep slope. “This used to be what’s called a moat. Filled with water, it made it hard for any attackers to get into the castle. We thought about refilling it, but what we already have is enough to protect against the diseased.”
The thunderous rattle of chains made William jump and sent his pulse racing. The gate slowly lifted.
The pack of hunters closed in to walk through the castle’s narrow entrance. William rubbed shoulders with Samson and Matilda, nodding at his love, who, although pale, returned a tight-lipped smile. Several spears close enough to grab, Slate dragged William’s attention away when he said, “You’ll love Umbriel, and the people will love you. We hope you like it here. We could always do with growing our community. Especially if the new members are young and fit.”
Slate aimed the last comment at Matilda. Heat flushed William’s cheeks and he balled his fists. When Cyrus looked down at them, he let his hands fall open again. Maybe Slate needed to know William and Matilda were a thing. After all, he couldn’t blame him for finding her attractive, and he didn’t want to risk their lives because of his jealousy.
When the gate had lifted high enough, Slate led them up the other side of the moat and in through the entrance.
The children on the top of the castle had been giggling and shrieking as they ran from one end to the other. Giddy pups waiting to see what had come to their home. A child’s scream then cut through the mirth. It turned William’s blood to ice, and before he had a chance to react, Slate slammed into him, driving him aside as one of the huge grey rocks fell from the top of the castle and landed where William had stood just seconds ago.
Pinned to the ground by the lead hunter, William squirmed but couldn’t get free. When Slate got off him, he held his hand down to help him up. “Are you okay?”
The rock had landed on its end, half buried in the damp ground. “That would have crushed me.”
While waving a clenched fist in the air, Slate yelled, “If I find out who knocked that rock off, you’ll be getting kicked out of this community. Of course,” he said to William with a shrug, “none of them will rat another one out, but I needed to threaten them. Kids, eh?”
His pulse quickening as his adrenaline finally caught up with him, William raised his eyebrows at Matilda. That was too close.
Once they’d entered Umbriel, the chains rattled again and the large gate lowered behind them. Matilda moved close to William and held his hand. “You okay?”
“I think so.”
A group of kids rushed over to greet their new visitors. From two-year-olds to teenagers, they ran around William and the others. Wide eyes and broad smiles, one of them poked William, giggled, and ran away.
“Shoo!” Slate said, but it took for him to draw his spear before they scattered, cackling as they went. “Sorry. They don’t get out, so it’s super exciting for them when someone new comes to visit.”
“Do you get many new people here?” Max said.
“There aren’t many travellers this far north.”
“So what’s in the south—?”
But before William finished, Olga said, “You like to keep your women in check, eh? This place is quite the picture of domesticity.”
Maybe two hundred people in front of them, at least a third of them women. They were cleaning or cooking, busying themselves while a gaggle of men sat around. No doubt they’d been relaxing and chatting before William and the others had arrived.
If Slate heard Olga’s comment, he let it slide. Max spoke under his breath. “Now’s not the time for that. Remember, you don’t change anything by shouting at people.”
“What about cutting their throats?” Olga said.
Again, Slate did well to ignore it, his only concession to explain the place better. “Those men over there were once hunters. We like to retire them at twenty-five. From sixteen to twenty-five, they provide the meat to Umbriel. After that, they’ve earned their rest.”
“What about the women?” Matilda said this time. “When do they earn their rest?”
Again, Slate ignored the accusation.
The fence—although similar to the one around Magma’s fortress—penned in a space twice as large as the ex-protectors’ home. Were the spikes on the top for anything other than effect? Had any diseased ever climbed walls? Although maybe they weren’t spiked to keep things out. Maybe it was much more about keeping people in.
A field took up about a quarter of the space over in the far left corner. William nodded in its direction. “What do you grow here? Wheat?”
“Yeah.” Slate nodded.
“I’m guessing you’ve just sown the seeds for this season’s crop. That’s hard graft.”
“Tell me about it. We could have done with meeting you lot a few weeks ago.”
The back wall of the community had wooden scaffolding along it much like the back wall of Edin. William’s throat stung and his eyes burned. How he’d loved those times with his dad.
A large wooden hut stood in the centre of the place. Just large enough to accommodate those there. They must have used it more in the winter. A fire burned out the front near where all the retired hunters sat. A stew bubbled in a large pot.
A dusty rectangle of space in front of the fire, a game of some sort. It had been marked out with a small trench around the outside and had three wooden hoops at either end in the shape of a pyramid, the two at the bottom wider than the one at the top.
Now they’d had time to take the place in, Slate brought his large hands together with a loud clap. “People of Umbriel, I’d like you to welcome our guests. We hop
e they might become residents. I want you to give them a hunter’s welcome.”
A deep baseline beat heralded the arrival of several teenagers. Girls and boys, they appeared with large wooden drums strapped to them as they hammered out a tribal rhythm. Many of the women and children screamed and yelled, some of them rolling their tongues as they all descended on the dusty rectangle in the middle of the community.
Clouds kicked up from their feet when they danced. Even the retired hunters stood up. Many of them were still young, but the older ones moved with surprising fluidity. The groove cared not for age and frailty.
To be the focus of the community’s attention tightened William’s lungs, his throat still burning for the loss of his father. Had Slate not mentioned the name, he might not have recognised it in the celebrations. Although, the people shouted it so frequently, how could he ignore the praise to Grandfather Jacks?
Both Olga and Matilda stood tense as if they were ready to fight. Max held himself more at ease, and Artan appeared unaffected by the celebrations. Cyrus stood close to Samson, the boy from national service as calm as Matilda’s brother.
Several children ran forward, screaming and rolling their tongues. They brought offerings with them. They had flasks of water and strips of meat. Some of them had small loaves of bread. Wheat was clearly in shorter supply than whatever animal the meat belonged to. Maybe the hunters in this place had earned their retirement.
Slate leaned close to William and still had to shout to be heard. “If you’re as good as you say you are with a spear, you’ll be helping to deliver a ready supply of meat to this community. If you choose to stay, that is.”
Why had William bragged about using a spear? What an idiot. He smiled and chewed on the salty meat before biting off a mouthful of the rough bread.
Several younger women came forwards. All locked into the same groove, they danced with more ferocity than the others, confident in their well-rehearsed routine. They stamped their feet and threw their hands in the air. When they were close, the women reached out for William, Artan, Max, Samson, and Cyrus, while Slate and the hunter with the scars on his neck took Matilda and Olga.
Beyond These Walls (Book 5): After Edin Page 11