After, that he scanned the area off to the east. Halfway through he stopped. There was what looked like a road. It was a clearing that ran almost straight from the mountains and north towards the village. As he looked, he saw of what he took to be men running across the road. He only saw them because of his vantage point and them crossing a clearing in the forest. He recognized this almost immediately from his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, this was a column of Mujahidin, irregulars. They were heading in the direction of the village and would arrive about the same time as he did. What would happen when they reached the village? He’d wait hidden and observe, then decide what to do. Mike gave a silent prayer of thanks that he had taken his AR-10 and the armor insert. No matter what type of weapons those irregulars had, if Mike had to go up against them, he felt much more secure with those than just the Glock. He thought about it and his best bet was to avoid them, especially in the woods until he had some idea what they were about. Also, no fire tonight and a camouflaged camp. He felt it was best to cross the small river. He’d look for a place to cross and then proceed down the other side. If they decided to cross, that many people would make noise and he could take evasive action. Yeah, he was in ‘Indian Country’ for sure.
Mike continued towards the village; except he was much more careful now. The group he spotted may have trackers out, or there was another column moving down this side. Either way he didn’t want to stumble into them. That meant moving, listening checking the trail for signs and doing it again and again. This slowed his progress, but it also made things safer. He moved towards the river and looked for a way across. About 100 yards ahead the river flowed over a patch of gravel. That was a good way across without getting really wet. Mike made his way through the underbrush and crossed over. His boots got wet, but the Gortex liners kept his feet and socks dry. The leather would dry out without a problem. After crossing he kept going west until he came to another game trail. It was only a couple of hundred meters from the river. He didn’t find that at all surprising, game would use it to travel and get to the river for water. A careful look didn’t reveal any tracks on the trail. He moved a bit more quickly, but still on the lookout for any sign that somebody was ahead of him. His trekking poles were put up on his pack and he carried his rife on a sling in front of him, instead keeping in its carrier. The safety was still on, but a round was in the chamber. Mike was ready to defend himself. As a combat veteran, there would be no hesitation in putting somebody down who attacked him. That was good, but intellectually Mike was aware of the callousness that came with that. In reality, he hoped that the AR-10 would never be used against people.
He was in for another shock. He heard trumpeting like on TV shows about elephants. Elephants didn’t fit with this type of terrain and climate. Then as he looked west, he saw them. Mastodons, a whole herd of them in a large meadow. The big curving tusks on what looked large elephants. These had been extinct on earth for over 10,000 years. What the hell he thought. If some of the large herbivores that had supposed died out 10,000 years ago were here so must there be predators. A modern wolf pack would be hard pressed to take one of these down. Smilodon, could the saber-tooth tiger be around as well? What other big carnivores were here?
As the afternoon wore on, he looked for a place to camp. This time he was looking for someplace where he could hide. He’d boil water in his camp stove and quickly heat up some freeze-dried stew. Then move into the bushes and cover up any evidence he was there. About 2 klicks further on there was a patch of grass off the trail that was screened by some bushes and small trees. This looked like as good a place as any. He moved in and put his poncho on the ground as a ground cover. His pack went on top of that and he dug out his camp stove and package of freeze-dried chicken stew. Water from the stream quickly boiled on the stove. The stew was ready in minutes, it was pretty good. But if you’d lived in the field on MREs for weeks at a time, that wasn’t a high bar. Mike cleaned up and got ready to bed down. That was simple. He blew up and laid his sleeping pad on the poncho and got out his woobie. His rifle was placed where he could get to it quickly. Then he laid down and wrapped the poncho and woobie around himself. He was pretty well hidden and camouflaged. His weapons were close at hand and he could easily throw the poncho off and be in the fight in a matter of seconds. If this was not needed, then so what. If it was, then it was more than prudent.
Another night like that and a good day of walking brought him close to the village. As he neared it, his spidey sense was giving off bad vibes. He stopped and took out his face paint. It was two small tubes black/brown and dark green/light green, that were always in his pack for hunting. He knew how to put them on to break up the outline of his face – light/dark and uneven. It also hid his white skin. That done, he continued on, going slow and being as quiet as possible. Half a klick later he started to hear voices. From the direction, it appeared that the voice originated across the little river. The good news was that they sounded human. The bad news was that they seemed to be sneaking around as well. He went to ground. Then as quietly possible, Mike moved off the trail away from the river and men, as he thought of them, across the river. Time to wait and listen. No meal tonight except the meal bars that he had. Nothing that would give off a smell that might give him away. He remembered his Uncle telling him how the Viet Cong used to smell American cigarette smoke and know where they were. Mike was not going to make that mistake. Time to hunker down.
He got a fair view of the men gathered across the river. It showed them to be in rough home spun clothes. They had swords and what looked like flintlocks. Good luck motherfuckers, he thought. He had several hundred rounds of ammo and with an AR-10 against flintlocks, he could do a lot of damage before he needed to bug out.
Saving Vinfarm
Mike was up well before dawn and ate quick ration bar. After relieving himself, he moved carefully to a position to where he could observe the force of men on the other side of the river. He couldn’t tell how many men were there, but he assumed at least 20, if not more. After settling in on the reverse side of the small hillock he used for observation he settled down to wait. He’d learn to wait patiently both in the marines and especially while hunting. When hunting you could be in a position for hours needing to stay still and quiet until the time for action came. It was a mindset, quiet observation and attention. Mike slipped into it easily, just like being in a stand or a blind.
He’d just settled in when he heard the men on the other side start to move. This is it he thought, they were going for the village. In the predawn darkness he couldn’t see them very well, but he could hear them. While not great noise discipline, it was still good. These men weren’t amateurs. After the men had left, he could still hear noise close by. He assumed that there were some men held back. Maybe the leader didn’t lead from the front and was sitting there waiting for the action to be over.
As the dawn approached, it got a bit lighter, he could see men heading for the southern gate. It wasn’t open yet and the men took positions on either side of it close to the wall. It was obvious what they were going to do. Wait until the gate opened and then rush in surprising the people inside. He hoped that these men where just going to rob the village. Not loot, kill lots of people, rape the women and steal everything they could. If that was there plan, then the leaders were going to die soon. He was able to start to see the men on the other side of the stream. There were five that he could see, and they were all looking at the village. Mike lined up his shot. He and got the man he thought was the leader in his cross hairs. He was a big man, with red hair and a red beard. Mike’s plan was two shots apiece. Shoot and move to the next target and then the next. He was sure that he could take down all five of the men within a matter of seconds. If there was a lot of firing these men would be dead and none of the others would be any the wiser. Then he’d go hunting. Mike didn’t feel that he was bloodthirsty, but he could not let a slaughter go on unavenged.
Sometime after dawn Mike saw the gate open and the men rus
hed inside. Several shots rang out. At that point Mike almost took out the leader and his party. He’d later come to realize that he’d missed the chance to save a number of lives. He went from looking at the village to lining up his shot. But he never pulled the trigger because there were no more shots after that. Maybe this was just a raid to take valuables. He’d wait and see if they marched off with prisoners or not. He was guessing that prisoners meant slaves. He’d deal with slavers as harshly as a bunch of murders. But he’d act in a way that would keep him whole and also do some good.
Inside the village Kornin, the appointed leader of the raid went looking for the leader of the village. He found him waiting in the communal dining room.
“What did you do to our dogs. We need them to guard our flocks. What do you want from us?” demanded Mordt. “You can steal some wine. Woolens and cheese. Most of our coin is in the royal bank at Midport. There’s little gold or silver here. If you do more than that, then all the kingdoms will hunt you down. Take what you want, then leave. We have important work to do here.”
Kornin was not surprised by Mordt’s outburst. “First, your dogs are merely asleep, they’ll be fine. I won’t tell you my name, what I will tell you that we are not here to steal much from you. Oh, we’ll fill our wine skins and take some provisions but other than that, we want nothing from you. What we do need is to make sure none of you leave the village or it’s vicinity. We’ve got business down on the River Road and we don’t want interference. We’ll leave a force of men to guard you. Your people can go about their work under guard. You will have to feed us, and we’ll take over the guest huts. My men won’t touch your women.
They’re after Samual’s goods, thought Mordt. He quickly realized that someone must have betrayed Samual. Mordt doubted that Samual would have enough guards with him to stop the number of men he saw. There may be a few men killed, maybe even Samual. He knew that the outlaws tried to kill as few people as possible. Also, they were careful who they attacked. Samual not being from Nordia was perfect. The king’s counselors would look for these men, but they wouldn’t move mountains to find them. After considering all that, Mordt was confident that his village was safe. The village had lost its two hunters when Ert and his son Eriken were killed. Ert’s wives were like their husband were older. They would continue to contribute and be cared for. Eriken’s wife, Alivina, was young and would be taken as a second wife by one of the men in the village. Yes, they could live with this.
Kornin and Mordt went to the dining area to work out the details. Kornin already knew what Bart wanted for the men on his march. Within an hour the details were worked out. Mordt directed the shepherds to pick out two lambs. Wine skins were collected and filled with red wine. Not their best of course, but these men didn’t care. A large wheel of cheese was cut up and packaged along with a quantity of hard sausage. After hearing from Mordt what work was going to be done and how many people were involved, Kornin detailed the men to guard them. Kornin was picked for this not only because he was a senior and trusted man in Bart’s band, he’d grown up on a farm and was familiar with the work. Before noon the rest of men had assembled. They were happy to have wineskins full of wine and the prospect of roasted lamb with fresh vegetables was also something to be looked forward to. They then moved out from the village towards the west and where Bart was waiting for them.
Once they were all assembled, they headed north towards the Ro, keeping to the game trail in the woods. Taking the road from Vinfarm to the River Road was out of the question. Bart sent scouts out ahead. He never thought to scout his rear or across the river. This was not just overconfidence. If someone was trailing them, then the whole enterprise was in danger. Still even if he’d done that it was extremely doubtful that Mike would have been discovered.
Bart and his men camped under the stars that night and roasted the two lambs. A couple of the men were decent cooks and the meal was the best that they’d had since they started out almost two weeks before. They then sat around talked and drank some of the wine. They were all experienced enough to know that drinking to excess while on a mission like this was unwise. You wait until it’s done and you’re safe before you let loose. They didn’t need Bart to remind them. But remind them he did. Bart was sure that the men he picked for this would know better than to drink to excess until they were back safe. But he was the leader and a good leader made sure that his men knew that he was being observant and was taking nothing to chance. So, he reminded them. He thought it would be another two days of careful traveling until they were at the ambush site. Then it was get ready and wait.
Back at Vinfarm, Mordt and Kornin had worked out the details for the next few days. After the noon meal the work details went out. People would need to take care of the cows and the horses. The milk cows had to be milked and all the animals feed. Then the milk needed to be processed into cheese and butter. The corrals needed to be cleaned. That meant removing the dung and putting it in the compost file that they kept to provide fertilizer for their fields. Three guards went with them. The vines needed to be hoed and the soil loosened. Four guards were assigned to that work detail. Those guards stood in wagons so they could see over the vines. Two guards went with the shepherds who went to tend the flock and to start preparing for shearing. Plowing and planting would be put off until the next day. What was important was to bury the dead. There was no embalming so getting the bodies into the ground quickly was important.
A detail of eight village men were sent out with shovels to dig the graves. Two guards went with them. By late afternoon the graves were done. At the end of the workday, the whole village gathered. Kornin spaced his guards all around them. Then the bodies were carried out and placed in the graves. This was a solemn and sad occasion for the villagers. They’d lost two of their own. They hadn’t grown old and had their year to say goodbye and prepare for what came next. They were killed and in Eriken’s case he was still a young man who had not even produced children. Erk at least had children and would have gone for at least a few more decades. The wives of the two men were distraught. Mordt said some words over the graves. Then they were quickly filled in and everyone returned to the village. Once inside the gates were closed and locked.
Dinner was a quiet affair, as the deaths affected the whole village. Kornin set a guard on each gate. They would take six-hour shifts. It did stretch his resources. Leaving the gates unguarded was asking for someone to sneak off. In all honesty he doubted if he would be able to tell if one villager was missing. A single man should be enough. As long as the villagers were treated reasonably then, it was in their best interest to co-operate. There was no reason to tempt them.
Mike watched the attack on the village. He waited and saw the raiders leave with the two lambs carried on poles. Then they joined up with the five men still in the woods. When the redhead started giving orders, Mike was certain that he was the leader. The whole group then left and headed north still keeping to the game trail. He did observe them sending three men forward to scout ahead. The leader wasn’t stupid. It looked like thirty-five, forty men.
Mike observed the village. The wall of the village that ran north to south was about 200 to 300 feet in length and was made of stone about 10 to 12 feet high. He couldn’t yet see the east-west wall. About 100 yards from the village’s west gate was a corral of maybe two acres, where there were milks cows. About 100 yards due north of the corral was a wooden building with several chimneys and wood stacked outside it. He watched as the men and women, milking the cows, poured the milk into wooden barrels on a cart. Then the cart was taken down and into the building. Mike’s guess was that this was probably where they were processing the milk. He watched and it took a little over two hours by his watch to finish the milking.
Then the cows where let out of the corral and they meandered slowly past the wooden building to pastures to the north. The three guards then clustered around, what Mike now thought of as the processing building. Eventually, they all left, and the guards escorted th
e villagers back towards the gate and into the village. With that Mike went back to his camp to think about what he saw. One thing he was going to do the next day was to get across the river before daylight and scope out the entire village and where the guards where. He hoped to estimate how many there were.
While it was still light, he got out the equipment he would need for the morning. There was his vortex range finder in his gun case, that would come. A lunch bar and some dried fruit for food, small notepad and pen to record what he saw. That should do it. If he needed to retreat, he’d bleed them. Once he got across the river, he’d find some good defensive positions. His fall back was the small rise he’d been using for observation, it gave him a good position to deny a crossing of the river at the ford. A modern semi-automatic rifle against flintlocks wasn’t fair. But to quote Collen Powell, he wasn’t looking for a fair fight. He was looking to win. Taking him on would cost them dearly.
What Mike didn’t see and couldn’t see, was the sad precession leaving the east gate of the village. There were four graves dug in the small cemetery outside the village. Two were for hunters, Erk and Eriken. The other two were for raiders who were killed when the hunters had fired on the raiders, the wounded man had died. Alivina was supported by her parents, she and Erk’s widows were all besides themselves with grief. More than a few of the villagers were crying, but there were no tears shed for the raiders. Alivina told herself, that if she could, she would find a way to get revenge for the loss of her husband.
Through the Gate: The Chronicles of Cornu Book 1 Page 41
