by Paul G Mann
He had hoped to have the situation concerning the boat done and dusted so he could be on his way but with the stance the lone female sailor was taking he was stuck here until winter at the earliest. Not that it would be all doom and gloom, he had the company of Liz at night, his carvings and trading during the day and when he yearned for life out in the woods a day’s hunting in the nearby trees and low hills provided welcome exercise and fresh meat and hides he could trade.
Life slowed to a pleasant crawl. As expected there was no reaction from the judges; even the dumbest of them would be afraid of waking to find Rippers running amok through the village they lived in and while Fred knew the threat was an idle one, the judges didn’t. He had been lucky capturing and controlling a single Ripper, more than one was a near impossibility and he was glad he wouldn’t have to try and carry out the threat.
The boat still sailed up and down the Inland Sea but the frequency changed; it dropped from twice to once a week and to Fred’s perception the course it took was further out from the village than it had been. Maybe the female on board had heeded his warning or had been telling the truth when she told him her work was nearly done. Whatever the reason he kept a wary eye on the situation as he waited for the first snows of winter.
The air started to turn chilly as winter approached. The blistering heat of long summer days had long gone; now the cooler climate of late summer heralded the onset of winter. Fred estimated no more than three weeks would pass before the first snows fell and as he watched the distant boat out on the Inland Sea, he tried to formulate a plan to sink it. His main problem was getting close enough to it without the woman on board unleashing crossbow bolts at him.
He would ideally like to set the craft ablaze; a few fire arrows embedded into the hull just above the water line would make sure the craft burned and give the sailor time to abandon ship. Why he had given the woman until winter to stop her sailing bemused him; he should have just sunk the craft there and then and had done with the matter, but never the one to make life easy for himself he had let his heart overrule his head. Now he was faced with trying to fire arrows off a rickety canoe probably on choppy water while trying to dodge crossbow quarrels.
He really needed something to give him a firm footing. It wasn’t the crossbow bolts that worried him as the crossbow was only accurate over a short range. Compared to the longbow in a standoff it would be second best to even the most competent of crossbow archers. Fred had assumed the woman only favoured the crossbow because it was easier for her than a longbow; her physical restraints made it the optimum weapon of choice for her.
It was while he was worrying over this that he hit upon an idea he kicked himself for not thinking of sooner. He cut down half a dozen sizeable trees; chopped them into approximately nine foot lengths and using rope he had over from the Ripper’s capture lashed them together to form a raft. A quick sortie out on the lake using the paddle from the canoe and he deduced it would hold together long enough for him to sink the offending boat, rescue the woman and get them both back to shore in one piece.
He waited patiently for the sails to appear on the horizon; a light snow had fallen yesterday and the skies didn’t promise clear weather anytime soon. Visibility was poor; only a half a mile or so out on the open water making his chances of spotting the sails, launching the raft and paddling out in time to meet the boat slim to say the least. He decided to pre-empt the appearance of the sails and launched his raft out into the Inland Sea in the hope he would be in the right place when the sailor came in to view. It was a dangerous game he played; visibility was worsening by the minute and he knew if the sailor failed to see him in the poor light a collision between raft and boat would see the raft disintegrate in the crash.
He stopped as the visibility clouded the shoreline. He had to turn back, without the shore as a reference he could be out here for days before land was sighted again. As luck or providence would have it, as he turned towards the shore he sighted the sails of the boat at the same time as he heard the crash of the bow as it cut through the water. It was less than four hundred yards away making a direct bearing on his position. He had a small fire lit on a large flat stone in the middle of the raft. Quickly he fitted an arrow to the bow, lit the oil soaked rag he had wrapped around the head and fired at the boat hitting it eighteen inches above the waterline on the port side of the bow. As the flames began to take hold he lit another arrow and sent it skywards towards the boat striking it once again eighteen inches above the waterline, this time amidships on the portside.
The lone sailor was alert; she saw the first arrow strike the boat and rushed to throw a container of water over the flames. Doused she hurriedly turned her attention the flames beginning to spread from the mid ship area dousing those in the same manner screaming at Fred as she did so.
‘Stop, please,’ she screamed. ‘Have mercy I’ve women on board, please no more.’
Fred was visibly shocked, his third arrow was lit and on the point of being launched at the fragile boat. Too late to extinguish the flame on the arrow he let it fly in to the water. Sinking a boat with a lone sailor who needed teaching a lesson was one thing, but a boat full of women was another.
‘Heave too,’ he shouted at her, ‘but be warned, if you have that crossbow in your hands or are lying to me I will sink that boat with you on board.’
He heard the stone anchor being dropped and with swift but careful strokes of his paddle brought the raft alongside the craft using the bulk of the boat as a cover just in case she was prepared with a crossbow to try and kill him. Cautiously he tied the raft to the boat and looked over the gunwale. She sat with her hands palm upwards, panic mixed with dejection written all over her face.
‘Please,’ she said as he climbed over the gunwale, tears beginning to run silently down her face. ‘Don’t hurt my passengers they’ve suffered enough.’
‘I don’t want to hurt anyone,’ he countered, ‘even you; I just want this boat either sunk or away from here. It draws attention and that is something the people in East Harbour don’t want. Where are these women you say is on board?’
‘Below where it’s warm,’ she replied the tears now rolling down her face in unashamed abandon. ‘Please,’ she almost begged, ‘we’ve been through enough, just let us go and I promise never to sail this way again.’
‘If you had said that a couple of months ago I probably would have said thank you and wished you well on your way. Tell me, what’s changed, where’s the smart talking woman who threatened me the last time we spoke?’
‘I died when the judges killed my brother,’ she said wiping the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. ‘Now I ferry the women of Lizzyville to Longfellow Quay to escape them.’
‘It’s taken you all these months to ferry women from one place to another? How many people live in Lizzyville?’ he asked incredulous at her story.
‘My brother died four weeks ago,’ she replied, ‘before then we used the boat to trade between Lizzyville, Longfellow Quay and Riggers Cove. We would take it in turns to make a trip, then the judges came and all I do now is help other women get away.’
‘How many women below?’ he asked.
‘Only two,’ she replied. ‘Why what are you going to do with us.’
‘I’m going to do nothing,’ he replied. ‘All I want is this boat away from here. By my reckoning the Hunki will be back once winter is over and the people in East Harbour don’t want this thing drawing attention to them. If you or your passengers want somewhere to stay then East Harbour is judge free, you won’t be bothered by them. Your choice, East Harbour and sink this thing or wherever else you want to go as long as you promise not to bring the boat back here.’
‘People are waiting for us at Longfellow Quay,’ she replied without elaboration.
‘Then go on your way,’ he said matter of factly. ‘But be warned if I see this boat near East Harbour again, I will sink it. If you see anymore judges tell them you’re under the protection of Fred Marchland. It mi
ght help you, it might not. Go in peace lady and if you pass this way again make sure you are on foot.’ He stood and looked at her face before climbing on the gunwale and silently slid down the rope to the raft.
Six
He wondered in the winter months if he had done the right thing by the woman on the boat. He hadn’t even asked her name, just sent her on her way to a life of dodging Hunki and judges. He didn’t dwell on it, after all he had given the woman a choice, one she chose not to accept; life was harsh on Newth and he couldn’t help everyone he came across least of all those who didn’t want to be helped; if he did he would be worn out in a matter of weeks.
Winter was coming to an end and Fred yearned to be away from the tunnels of East Harbour. He would miss Liz, but she was ensconced in the life style of East Harbour having made friends and planned using the skills Fred had taught her to take over his craft shop as a way of making a living. He had been here two winters and a summer, long enough for him to be at any one time. Fred had made up his mind, the first snow free day and he would be off to wander the forests and woodlands of Newth with all his worldly goods strapped to his back.
He wanted an early morning start and hoped to slip away without all the tearful goodbyes from Liz; she had been bad enough last night crying and asking him to stay. Too say he wasn’t tempted would be a lie, but deep down a life underground wasn’t for him. He had asked her to come with him but she was as adamant as he was, the life of a nomad wandering the forests of Newth wasn’t for her. She wanted to be settled in one place and in East Harbour had found the nearest thing to home she had known since being dumped here by the Hunki.
She caught him as he was about to slip through the curtain that divided their private space from the rest of the tunnel network. ‘Please Fred,’ was all she said as he lifted the worn material to leave.
‘Sorry Liz,’ he said turning towards her. ‘I didn’t want to upset you again when I left.’
‘I know,’ she replied quietly sitting upright in the bed, her naked breasts beckoning him back to her. Instinctively she pulled the blanket up to cover her torso. ‘Will you be back?’ she asked, her eyes beginning to mist over.
‘Not for awhile,’ he replied softly still standing in the doorway. ‘I can’t Liz, you’re the one thing that could keep me here, and if I came back I would probably stay. If I did stay I wouldn’t be happy and we would end up fighting. Let me go Liz, we’ll always be friends if you do and I promise if I ever find a place to settle I’ll come and get you.’
‘I’ll wait,’ she said looking at him with an unwavering stare into his soul. ‘Two years Fred; after that…?’ She never said another word just turned on her side away from him. He looked at her for two seconds before letting the curtain slip and walked away, slowly out of East Harbour to the forests that beckoned him.
Life became mundane again; he quickly settled into a routine of an early breakfast, followed by a brisk hike through the woods before making a camp in the mid afternoon. The rest of the day he would spend hunting if he required meat or making arrow heads, shafts, flights for his bow or carving dried bone and flint into knives and other things that could be useful in a trade.
Two weeks in to his journey and he woke one morning, stretched his huge frame and froze as he smelled the unmistakable odour of the Hunki. Thankfully he had made camp in a small cave; the surrounding rocks helping to hide him from his hated enemy. Quickly and on silent feet he gathered his belongings, packed them securely and leaving the pack where it was picked up his bow and a full quiver of 30 arrows before cautiously leaving the cave to ascertain where exactly his hated enemy was.
He could smell them on the wind and this far in to the forest it worried him; the Hunki preferred open spaces, what they doing in the woods was a problem. He hated the Hunki; hunter killers some said the name came from, he didn’t know and didn’t care, some knowledge was not worth the knowing. Cautiously he crept towards their scent, eyes and ears strained to detect the slightest sound. It was quiet, not a bird sang, not a leaf rustled as an animal passed, the only sound was an occasional flap of wings high in the canopy of tree branches some fifty foot above his head.
He heard them, ahead and to his right. Slowly he made his way in that direction extra careful to place his feet on ground that wouldn’t make a noise and give him away. He took shelter behind a small grass mound that had a rotting tree trunk on top of it. There was a gap between tree and the mound that he carefully looked through to see where his hated enemy was. They were in a small clearing less than fifty feet away from him; their flying craft was on the ground at one end of the clearing with its door open. Five of the evil hunters sat round a blazing fire and to Fred’s horror two more joined them dragging the corpse of a woman behind them. She had been stripped naked and beheaded. A spear or spike was pushed into her neck, down her body to exit between her legs. Before he could react to the outrage her legs and arms were cut from her torso, these too were speared and the torso and limbs placed over the open fire to cook.
He wanted to be sick but anger overtook his feelings of revulsion; hot anger, blazing anger that had him standing up bow drawn back and firing arrow after arrow at the Hunki warriors as they scattered and fled back to their craft. He knew they went for their weapons but the thought of putting an arrow in to just one more of the hated Hunki kept him on his feet until he had exhausted a full quiver of arrows. Only then did he look at the clearing to see five of the Hunki lying dead with his arrows embedded in their flesh. Reason came back to him as the craft took off. He turned and ran as fast as his long muscled legs would carry him. He headed back to the cave and his pack; he needed more arrows, if the hunters came after him he wasn’t going down easy, he was determined to take more with him.
He reached the cave as the ground and trees behind him erupted in a ball of flame from the Hunki weapons. They were angry; the weapon they were using was the same one they used to level villages, he had never known it to be used when hunting. Against this weapon he stood little chance; his only means of escape would be to go deep underground where not even the Hunki weapons could reach him, at least get as deep as this cave would allow. If they followed he would have a chance against them in the cave, the twists and turns would give him cover while allowing him to get some shots of the bow at them before they eventually killed him.
Luck favoured him today, his cursory look around to ascertain his safety the night before hadn’t revealed the true extent of the cave system. A long passage led down to a cavern filled with crystalline stalactites and stalagmites that had at least six openings he could disappear down. Any one of them assured his escape; the Hunki wouldn’t split up to catch him and if he knew them as he thought he did they would see the openings and turn back in defeat. They would probably level the area around the cave entrance hoping to trap him underground and starve him to death. If his luck held another entrance to the system would be found.
Six hours and four explorations later of different tunnels he felt the cooling breeze of fresh air coming from ahead of him. The air gave him an increase of vigour and renewed his pace as he fought the dim almost pitch blackness in his bid for freedom. As he turned a corner he saw the faint glimmer of light ahead shining off the tunnel wall. Taking nothing for granted he strung the bow that had served as a guide in the blackness and fitted an arrow before moving towards the light and fresh air. It was only a small opening less than eighteen inches wide that would have to be widened to get his bulk through it. Thankfully the surrounding rocks were soft sandstone that his steel knife made short work of hacking away a space large enough to let his shoulders through.
Outside he took stock of the area, sniffing the air and straining his hearing for signs of the Hunki. He caught no scent nor heard the almost inaudible hum of their craft but taking nothing for granted he took cover behind a fallen tree and strained every sense he had for signs of them. He stood rock still for over five minutes before he was satisfied he was alone. He had a decision to make; either run
deep into the woods and safety or return to East Harbour to check on Liz and the many friends he had made there.
He stowed his pack in the cave hiding the small entrance from any casual observer and keeping only his bow, two quivers of arrows and his steel knife, set off at pace for East Harbour. It had been two weeks since he left, two weeks he had spent hunting in a slow, leisurely, peaceful pastime; he estimated with a forced march stopping only to sleep it would take him six or seven days to reach his destination. A week in which he regretted leaving Liz to the Hunki. He ploughed on, his senses on full alert, his legs covering the rough terrain at an almost canter while his mind ran riot at the possible fate of his friends.
Five days later he smelled the water of the inland sea and slowed his pace; gone was the forced march that left a trail for others to follow, gone was the noise he made as he raced through the trees breaking branches and stepping on broken twigs. Now he was like a ghost, slipping silently from tree to tree, bow at the ready to kill anything that moved and posed a threat. Every sense he had was heightened as he approached the tree line around East Harbour. He stopped yards away from the open ground that led to the villages’ main entrance; his eyes scanning the Newth grassland for signs of life, his ears searching for sounds that his hunters instinct would tell him danger was near while his nose analysed the air for the smell of Hunki or human.
Ahead and to his right he saw the signs of a fire and the indentations in the grass that told him a camp had once been there. He circled around looking for a Hunki ship still on the ground; half an hour later he was satisfied that if the Hunki had been here they were long gone; not that they couldn’t return but for now he trusted in his senses and left the tree line heading for the camp he had seen. It was carnage, or had been; the remains of at least three people had been left strewn about the fire. Feet and hands, the parts of the body without much meat lay where they had been thrown, guts, intestines and bowels lay in a pool of congealed blood where the bodies had been cleaned ready for cooking and bones with the meat sliced off them had been discarded in all directions as the Hunki had finished with them. The Newth insects and small scavengers that roamed this God forsaken planet had already begun their feasting on the remains and the smell was beginning to turn his stomach.
