Eagle of Seneca

by Corrina Lawson

  At the wall, Ceti checked in with Godwin and received a report back on their work at the crumbled section. Godwin grinned as he talked about how water-logged that area had become. If the legions landed, perhaps they could be directed there. But the trap was too small to hold all of them.

  Ceti reviewed more plans, walked along the wall and spoke to the engineering crews, and shared a drink with Godwin on the wall as dawn began to break in the east. They watched with long viewers aimed the narrows.

  As the sun rose, imperial ships appeared.

  Godwin cried out.

  “Panic isn’t like you, Godwin. This is what we expected.” If Godwin couldn’t hold it together, there was no hope for the rest of the soldiers.

  “That’s not it,” Godwin said. “Ceti, look inland across the Mahicanituck River.”

  He turned and trained the far viewer as directed, his heart sinking to his feet.

  A thick plume of smoke rose over the horizon.

  Makki’s first attack had not been on Manhatos. It had been on the Lenape.

  Sky.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Laughing Dog clung to Sky during the trip across the Mahicanituck river, as much part of her as her own shadow. She didn’t mind. He so clearly needed reassurance and his body warmed her heart, which had nearly frozen after saying good-bye to Ceti.

  Oh, love. I’m sorry.

  “I must change my name,” Laughing Dog said.

  “That is a fine idea. It will give you a new start.” She sighed. “Your brother changed his name. He became Quiet Dog when you disappeared to signal the loss of his joy.”

  “Oh.” The voice was quiet and full of hurt.

  “It was to honor you.” Sky wished she’d kept silent rather than remind the young man of the sadness his disappearance has caused. “And now you’ll honor him with your return. Your brother never lost faith that you’d find your way back to us.”

  “I did. I lost faith.” He sighed so deeply that it was almost a sob. “But you rescued me. I would like to take a Wolf clan name to show my gratitude.”

  “Now you honor me,” she said. “And you rescued yourself. That swim to the shore was made of the stuff of stories for your grandchildren.”

  “I will become Ghost Wolf, at least for now,” he said. “I am of the People again, for the first time in a long time, but I am not fully alive. Maybe, when I’m convinced this is real, I will be Laughing Dog once more.”

  “I pray for that day.”

  Baldor quietly commanded his crew to prepare to beach. Sky clung to the rail, awaiting the impact. Her cousin, Licinius, helped brace the newly named Ghost Wolf for the landing.

  The longboat scraped against the dirt shore of the mainland yet stopped so softly that Sky could only marvel at the skill of Baldor and his crew.

  Baldor clapped Licinius on the back. “Take care of yourself, nephew, or your mother and father will have my head.”

  “Thank you,” said Licinius. “And tell my parents that I’ll see them soon.”

  “Your twin is going to be jealous that he’s missed all this action,” Baldor said, his voice rough.

  Licinius shook his head. “There’ll be enough action for everyone soon.”

  Sky leaped over the rail first. Licinius followed and turned to help Ghost Wolf down. It was clear that moving still caused the former slave pain. She was very glad Licinius had offered to come with them. There was something very calming about her cousin. Ghost Wolf felt it too. Licinius seemed to be possessed with endless patience. It made her wonder what his parents and the rest of his clan were like.

  She suspected there was more behind her cousin’s decisions to accompany her than simple help. It was clear from Licinius’s earlier comments that estrangement from her mother’s kin troubled Sif. If this was Licinius’s attempt to heal that rift, well, Sky could understand his need to seize the moment.

  The long boat slipped off into the river along with its pale running lights. Darkness closed in on them. Sky waited for her eyes to adjust to pitch black, but after blinking several times she began to worry about being able to see at all. There was no telling when the clouds would move and uncover the moon.

  “I have a portable lantern, if you think we could risk it,” Licinius said.

  “Yes, please.”

  This was north of the shore where Makki had anchored his fleet. The only possible watchers here were Turkey clan warriors and they would recognize her as kin. At this point, she would welcome more escorts to her home.

  A bright spark illuminated Licinius and then a steadier yellow flame began to glow. He held up the lantern to show the ground around them. She marveled again at how quickly light had appeared. Another clever Roman device.

  The trio walked a short distance with the waves at their back, hearing the calls of the sea gulls. Despite the lantern, Sky almost missed the path used by the fishers of the Turkey clan.

  “Here,” she said. “Licinius, lead, but be careful with your steps. It’s a small path. Once we reach the Pahsayek River, we can walk along its shore but until then, we must take note and not lose our way.”

  She stayed close to Licinius and Ghost Wolf walked at her heels. They spoke little, perhaps as lost in their own thoughts as she was in hers. She thought of Ahala and how he’d been told of these paths by one of her clan. How could she discover this betrayer?

  Ghost Wolf said he’d only heard a voice. That did not help much, especially given how his mind seemed unclear about many things.

  She understood how slavery might have addled his mind. But this unknown betrayer was not a slave nor injured. Why would he work against them? What could the Romans offer him that the clan did not?

  No one went hungry. All families were cared for and loved as part of the clan. Lake Wolf was not a tyrant. She listened to good advice.

  Sky had to admit that she and the betrayer had one thing in common: they had both allied with the Romans.

  Not the same.

  The dawn began to break. Licinius extinguished his lantern without being asked. The path grew wider and they started walking faster toward her village.

  Sky took a deep breath, comforted by familiar sights. The trees seemed greener than just a week ago. Spring had nearly arrived. She heard the squirrels skittering on the trees around them. The gobbles of turkeys echoed from their hiding places. High above them, an eagle flew, which she took as the best of omens.

  “Sky,” Licinius said, “I smell smoke.”

  “It’s likely the fires from my village.” Licinius must have a good nose. They still had some distance to walk.

  “I know what village fires smell like,” Licinius said. “This is different.”

  She stopped and took a deep breath and something acrid tickled her nostrils.

  “You are right.” She put a hand on her belt knife.

  Ghost Wolf clutched at her arm. “Sky,” he whispered, “that smells like a whole village burning.”

  Sky clenched her jaw so tight her teeth hurt. She nodded, unable to speak. The smell of smoke was stronger now. Mother. Father. Her brothers. Her aunts, uncles...her home.

  Licinius pointed up. “If we get up to the top of the river bank, we can use my far viewer and see what’s happening.”

  They scrambled up the hill together, dislodging dirt and rocks in their mutual hurry. Sky, driven by fear, reached the top first and shaded her eyes from the sun.

  Down river, smoke billowed from the location of her village.

  “Gods, no.” She blinked her eyes, refusing to let the angry tears fall. Her knees threatened to buckle.

  Beside her, Ghost Wolf whimpered. Licinius took a wooden tube from his pouch and pulled at the ends, making it longer. He looked out the skinny end and hissed in reaction.

  “Let me see, cousin,” she said, her voice low.

  He handed her the viewer. “Look out the small end and move the larger end around until you can focus on the smoke.”

  She put the instrument to her eyes, took a
deep breath, and braced herself for the sight. If it had been summer, the green of the forest would have hidden much of her village. With the trees only budding, the image of longhouses burning was all too clear.

  She closed her eyes, as if by shutting them, she could deny the truth.

  I did this. I brought this destruction on them by going to Manhatos.

  “All isn’t lost, Sky.” Ghost Wolf squeezed her shoulder.

  She lowered the viewer. “How can you say that? Ahala clearly ran back to his master to tell of my alliance with the Romans. Now everyone is dead.”

  “It is not your fault,” Ghost Wolf said. “Makki planned to attack your village even before you went to Manhatos. This is the work of the betrayer, not you.”

  “What matters now is not fault,” Licinius said. “What matters is that Ghost Wolf is right. All isn’t lost. I smell burning wood and grass and forest. I don’t smell burning bodies.” He took the viewer. “And I don’t see any bodies either.”

  Sky swallowed down her panic and looked again, scanning left and right and then right to left. All she saw was smoke. No bodies. No people at all. And no smell of burning flesh. Where had her clan gone?

  “Were they all taken captive?” she asked out loud.

  “Perhaps they fled the village ahead the Romans,” Licinius said.

  “If so, they would go somewhere where a Roman army couldn’t follow.” Somewhere close, where they could regroup. Sky pointed north, to ground below that was cris-crossed by streams and smaller rivers which fed into the mighty Pahsayek.

  “There. The swamps are drier than normal at this time of year. The ground is not completely treacherous. My people know the paths, but no outsider would ever discover the safe way in. It would be a good place to hide.”

  “Then let’s go,” Licinius said. “Lead on, Sky.”

  Driven by fear and worry, she set a wicked pace through the lowlands. Ghost Wolf moaned a few times, but he refused to let them slow down.

  “I want to get there as fast as you do,” he claimed through after a stumble. “I’m too close to seeing them all again. I won’t stop now.”

  She took him at his word and increased her walk to a near run. The hills and trees disappeared to be replaced by the long, tall grass and cattails of the swamps. Frogs croaked around them. She heard splashes in the greenish pools and was glad that most snakes were still in hibernation. More than once, their moccasins squished in muck that almost went up to her ankles. But they managed to avoid the worst of the swamp.

  A bark sounded in the distance.

  “Those are dogs, not wolves,” Ghost Wolf said.

  Sky nodded, wishing she could smile but she was too tired. “Those are our dogs.” Her heart pounded in her chest, almost to bursting. “Follow the sounds.”

  Rustling sounded in the reeds near them. Licinius drew his sword. Sky drew her knife.

  A dog jumped into view, barking and wagging. Sky grinned and knelt down, rubbing its shaggy fur. “It’s good to see you, too, friend. Take us to the others.”

  The gray dog barked, wagged its tail, and started jogging away. They followed at the same pace. They splashed through one small pond. The cold water felt good against her sweaty face.

  They broke into a clearing hidden by willow trees. Sky recognized her younger brother first, then her father, and then most of the village.

  Sea Otter, her little brother, ran to her and hugged her. “Sky!” he shouted, attracting everyone’s attention. “We thought you were lost for good.”

  She hugged him back, fighting the tears in her eyes. “I thought the same. I saw the village burning. What happened?”

  Sea Otter set her down, his joy forgotten. “The Romans.”

  Sky glanced around and saw her father, Nighthawk, striding toward them. Deep Water of Shorakapkok was with them.

  “How did Deep Water get here?” she asked.

  “Most of Shorakapkok is here,” Sea Otter said. “They heeded our call to leave Turtle Island. They had stopped here to camp for the night and were here when our village arrived.”

  “Ah. Good.” She glanced around. Wait, there was something strange about the crowd that gathered around them.

  “Where’s our mother? Where are the other women?”

  Nighthawk and Deep Water reached them. Her father’s clothes were torn and muddy. The shaman had a grim set to her mouth.

  “Where’s my mother?” Sky repeated.

  “Taken,” Nighthawk answered.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Get ready!” Ceti bellowed.

  The cannons were packed and ready to be fired. The imperial ships had done them the favor of lining up nicely as they cut through the Narrows. Ceti put the far viewer to his eyes, then consulted his distance instruments again.

  The targets were almost in range.

  He looked up and down the row of cannons along the top of the east wall. The crews were primed and ready, almost eager. Everyone was always eager before a battle. The trick was getting that eagerness translated into stubbornness and courage so they would not leave their posts.

  Because as soon as the imperial ships came in range, Manhatos would also be in range of their cannons. Ceti hoped for at least a stalemate with the first exchange. Anything that delayed the landing of ground troops was all to the good.

  Through his far viewer, Ceti saw puffs of smoke on the ships. Now, that was undisciplined, to waste shot like that when they were not in range yet and—

  “Get down!” He ordered.

  He scrambled away from the cannons and took refuge under an overhang. He, Godwin, and the closest cannon crew braced themselves against the stone overhang.

  There was whizzing sound, a horrific thud, then another, and yet a third. The wall shook. Stone dust fell down around them. Ceti gritted his teeth.

  “How in the name of blasted Mars can they fire from that range?” yelled Godwin.

  “I don’t know.” Ceti took a deep breath and wiped dust from his mouth. “But send the word around. Do not, I repeat, do not return fire without a clear signal. We can’t afford to waste our shot.”

  “We have to sit here and take this?” Godwin said.

  “We have no choice but to sit here and take this. We have to wait until we can hit them.”

  Ceti called for an apprentice to take a message to Breda, the commander of the Legion in Tabor’s absence. “Make sure you tell him to get those volunteer fire crews ready to move. Some of these cannonballs are going to hit buildings inside the wall. Soon.”

  The boy nodded, his face pale and drawn, and scurried off. Ceti was reminded of his younger self, caught in the middle of the Battle of Seneca almost fifteen years ago.

  I survived that. The boy will live through this.

  A second flurry of cannonballs hit. Ceti gripped the wall for balance and the cement under his feet shook and wavered. But it held, thank Vulcan.

  “Their cannons have gotten more accurate as well,” Godwin said.

  Obviously.

  Ceti brushed the dust from his eyes and dared peek out the open space with the far viewer to judge the distance again. Fuck. The ships were maintaining their distance. They obviously planned to bombard the city for as long as it took to soften it up.

  I should have concentrated on developing new and better cannons, not a flying machine.

  Something whistled over their heads. Ceti instinctively ducked. The cannonball crashed through the wooden roof of a tavern across the street.

  Ceti tensed, waiting for the cry of fire, but all was silent. It appeared that this owner had evacuated to the higher ground near Tabor’s villa.

  As if to emphasize his words, another cannonball flew overhead and struck the same building again. Ceti heard screams, wood buckling, glass breaking, and the faint sound of a flame springing to life.

  “Fuck!” Ceti yelled. “Godwin, take charge here. Keep the crews ready; protect the cannons for when we need them. And send another messenger for those fire crews, now!”
>
  They could not afford to have the city in flames this close to the wall. The heat could explode their black powder supplies and that would be the end of Manhatos.

  The screams inside the burning building grew louder.

  Ceti jumped the last few steps to the street and charged to the door of the burning home. He put his hand on the flat of the wood but it was hot to the touch. Whoever was inside—and the shrieks had a distinctly feminine sound—they’d never get out this way.

  He grabbed the hammer out of his belt, put one hand over his eyes for protection and smashed the large stained glass window to the left of the door.

  The glass shattered around him. One shard struck the back of his hand. He swore looked down at a piece of glass stuck in his flesh. He pulled the shard out with an oath.

  “Out this way!” he shouted into the building.

  With the flames beginning to roar, he couldn’t tell if there was an answer or even if anyone heard him. He pulled a cloth from his belt and wrapped it around his hand. When he looked up, he could see dimly see four figures in the front room.

  The women were holding hands, urging each other to action. Ignoring the heat and smoke, Ceti used his gladius to clear the sharp edges of the glass from the window frame and shouted for them to hurry.

  Ceti helped the first woman as she clambered through the makeshift door. She cursed and coughed but turned as soon as she was through the window to help the others.

  The fire crew arrived just as Ceti helped the last of them through the window. The crew chief released the mechanism on the hose nozzle. Water spurted and settled into a steady stream.

  “Soak the roofs of the buildings next to it!” Ceti ordered. “We have to prevent it from spreading!”

  The crew chief waved in acknowledgment and ordered his men to get to work. Ceti turned back to the women he’d rescued.

  Their clothes were ripped, their hair askew and their faces were covered with soot. But from their painted faces, the revealing nature of their tunics, and slave collars, Ceti realized who they must be.