by B N Miles
Cam led the group toward the gate square. He spotted a single man named Broch leaning up against a wall in the shade several streets away from their destination, his feet up on a large stone, his hands behind his head. He was dressed for war like all the other men, with his spear by his side and his best leather clothing wrapped tight around his body, but he seemed to be sleeping.
“Broch!” Cam called out.
He started and sat forward. “Uh, Cam,” he said. “What, uh—”
“Where’s Dagan?” Cam asked.
The man stared at him blankly. “Uh—”
Cam clenched his jaw and knelt down in front of the man. “This is why you’re still unmarried, you lazy piece of cow retch. Get on your feet and go find Dagan.”
Broch gaped at Cam for a long moment. The man was older than Cam by several years, and Cam should have shown him respect. There was a clear hierarchy to their village, and the older a man was, the higher he climbed. There were other distinctions, like being able to afford copper buttons, or having several wives, but age also played a factor. Cam should have deferred to Broch, but he was finished with being polite, finished with lazy bastards not pulling their weight.
Broch managed to get to his feet and pick up his spear. For a split second, Cam thought the man might try and use it on him. But instead, he shook the sleep from his head. “All right,” he grunted. “Head to the gate square. I’ll have him sent there.” He trotted off without another word.
Cam watched him go then looked back at his little group. Theus was grinning and even Kraed had a little smile on his face. “Already taking over for your father, I see,” Kraed said. “Not a bad idea, young Camrus.”
“I’m not taking over anything,” Cam said, turning away from them. “Someone has to get this village moving, and it wasn’t going to be Broch.” He marched forward toward the square and felt the others follow along behind him.
Cam reached the square a few moments later, slipping out from between two compact houses. A fire had been built and some men were standing around it, weapons leaning against their shoulders. Cam stared around him at the inactivity, at the men lounging around, the women still at their sewing, at the world moving along like nothing was happening. He turned back and looked at Key, and she just shook her head, like she shared his mind.
“Cam!” Dagan’s voice cut across the square. Broch walked along behind the Elder, not meeting Cam’s eye as the two approached. “I see you found my drunken colleague.”
Kraed bristled. “Oh shove it up your—”
“He’s here to help,” Cam said.
Dagan stopped a few feet away and crossed his arms. The men standing around the fire were watching with curious looks on their faces.
“And where do you fall on this question, Kraed?” Dagan asked.
Kraed stepped forward and whipped his cloaked off his shoulder. It was meant to be dramatic, but it got caught in his hair and ended up flopping to the ground at the old man’s feet. He cursed and dropped the jar of alcohol, and probably would’ve tripped if it weren’t for Theus’s hand steadying his arm.
“There’s fire out in the fields,” Kraed grunted. “Haven’t you seen?”
Dagan nodded. “I was just on the wall watching.”
“And?” Kraed stared at his counterpart. “Any word?”
Dagan shook his head. “Not yet. I haven’t spread the news. I don’t want panic.”
“Panic?” Cam stepped up next to Kraed. “Dagan, we need panic right now. We need people to start moving.”
“Panic won’t help, Cam,” Dagan said. “But if we can get them to start moving in an orderly manner…”
Cam sighed and gestured at Kraed. “He agrees we need to start evacuating.”
Kraed nodded. “Those Weres are coming, and there’s no way we’ll hold off for long. Our best bet for long term survival is the Mansion.”
“I agree.” Dagan’s eyes hardened and he released a heavy sigh.
Cam felt the same. Now that two of the three head Elders agreed, they were going to make a run for it. Whether Arter wanted to or not, the people would follow the two Elders’ decision.
They stood for a moment in silence and watched each other. Then Dagan dipped his head with a resigned grunt. “I’ll send the orders.”
“Good. I’ll get… ah, I mean, I’ll, ah—” Kraed stopped himself. “I’ll sit over there and keep out of the way.”
“Maybe you should go pack your things,” Cam offered.
Kraed snorted and walked toward the fire. “I have everything I need.” He stooped, picked up his cloak, and stumbled off.
Cam shook his head and turned to Dagan. “What now?”
“Now you get what you want,” Dagan said. He gave Cam a long look then shook his head again. “I hope the Urspirit is with us.” He turned and barked an order at the men standing around the fire. They came to attention right away, and then ran off at Dagan’s command to spread the word.
Finally, the village broke out into action. More people began running off, and Cam watched the nearest homes burst into activity. It was like everyone was on edge and waiting for this very order, and they were all preparing in the meantime. He saw women he’d known his whole life carry bundles out from their houses and strap them onto their backs. He watched men at the granary at the far end of the square gather food for the journey, stacking it in the back of a horse-cart and tucking hay and cloth around it to keep it safe and dry. Cam stood there for a long moment, not sure what to do now that he got the village to move.
“Cam,” Key said. “We should go and pack.”
He nodded. “You’re right.”
“I’ll see you two soon,” Theus said, turning away. “I need to go home to my mother and father.” He trotted off without a word, disappearing into the crowd.
Cam didn’t move and Key pressed herself up against his side. “Arter is going to be furious.”
“Let him stay then,” Cam said.
She sighed. “It doesn’t work like that and you know it. You’re going to need to win him over if you want to—” She stopped herself and bit her lip.
“If I want to what?” he pressed.
“Take over for your father,” she finished.
Cam turned away from her and began to walk back to the only home he’s ever known.
“I’m not my father,” he said and slipped in between the buildings without another word.
Key didn’t follow, and although a part of him wished she would, he knew he needed some time alone to pack up what was left of his life.
9
Cam stood in the main room of his house with objects scattered on the ground in front of him.
He had a backpack that contained one set of extra clothes he’d pilfered from his father’s stash. He had his father’s leather armor, patched and worn and unused for years, piled on top of that. Then his tent, which was no more than waxed cloth to keep the rain out, was layered on top of that. The bag was nearly full, but he had a little room for a few more things.
There was the bow he’d just finished two days ago and enough arrows to fill a quiver. There was his copper-tipped spear, his father’s bronze-tipped spear, a small bone axe, needle and thread for mending, some herbs and hard travel bread, his bedroll, and a length of coiled rope. He stared at what was left of his world then let his eyes roam the house.
He was leaving so much behind. Clay pots, jars, jugs. Cloth he’d help spin, clothes he’d helped mend. His father’s bedroll, some food that wouldn’t last long on the journey, fresh water, chairs and a table. His entire world had been contained in their small home, and now he’d never see it again.
Cam bent down, packed as much as he could into his bag, and then gathered the rest. He carried the two spears over one shoulder with the bow unstrung in his other hand. His burden was heavy but it was what he’d need for the coming nights. He stepped out of the door of his home and paused for a moment, sure he’d never see it again.
But none of it mattered.
He could still smell the charred remains of the wolves his father had ashed, and he could feel his father’s weight as he dragged the body back to the village. Now that action felt worthless, since they’d have to leave his father behind, but at the time it felt necessary, almost heroic.
There was nothing heroic about Cam.
He walked through the village. It was a chaos he’d never seen before. Families were gathering their things and arguing about what should be left behind. Men were dashing about, shouting at each other, passing along orders. He saw Theus’s family, his kind father with his rosy cheeks and big nose, his heavy-set mother with her severe eyes and long dark hair. He nodded as he headed toward the square, skirting along a little avenue between homes.
When he reached the gate square, he leaned his things up against a cart that was loaded with supplies. Dagan was near the fire, barking out orders, and Kraed was close to him, drinking and ignoring his surroundings. Arter was nowhere to be seen.
“Dagan,” Cam called out. “How are the preparations?”
“They’re coming along,” he said then turned away from Cam. He walked over to a bundle that was leaning against a nearby house’s front porch. He picked it up and turned back to Cam. “I kept meaning to give you this.”
Cam frowned at the bundle and took it. The thing was heavy, and he knew instantly what was inside the wrapped cloth.
He pulled it back and stared at the bronze sword’s hilt. It was contained in his father’s scabbard, a simple leather thing with no ornamentation and small marks and scars from years of hard use. It had long straps, meant for wearing at the hip, but his father kept it on his back most days. It was harder to draw from the back but allowed for better mobility.
Cam stared at the sword for a long moment. “This isn’t mine,” he said.
“It’s yours,” Dagan corrected. “Your father is gone, Cam. He would’ve wanted you to have it.”
Cam hesitated. He’d held the sword a handful of times over the years when his father had given him small lessons. But he never once thought the sword would end up in his hands. It was almost priceless, at least as far as their village was concerned. It was a real bronze blade, a high quality sword. It would’ve fed their people for a year if his father had ever decided to sell it at the Mansion.
“Thank you,” he said.
Dagan put a hand on Cam’s shoulder. “Don’t thank me. Just help get this lot sorted out.”
Cam nodded then unwrapped the bundle. He stared at the scabbard for another moment before slinging it over his back like his father used to. He strapped it across his chest, making it tight enough that it wouldn’t jostle too much, and tested the weight on his shoulders.
Dagan gave him an approving nod then stalked off and began barking orders once again.
Cam turned to the group and caught a few of the women staring at him. There wasn’t another man in miles that owned a sword, and Cam knew he just took a huge step up the social ladder.
Not that he cared. None of it mattered, not with the threat looming outside their village. He frowned and forced himself to concentrate on the task before him.
Cam waded into the chaos and began to help. He saw Key and her family dragging their things into the square. Theus and his parents also joined the group, and slowly the square began to fill up. Carts were being laden with goods and supplies, and the horses were being rounded up from the farmsteads. They only had four of them, but they would be enough to pull the carts. Everything else could be carried or dragged along.
An hour passed as Cam worked tirelessly. He carried sacks of grain, he helped women shove clothes into bags, he even calmed a baby at one point, although really the baby just wanted to be burped and ended up puking down Cam’s sleeve. He did whatever needed doing, and only stopped to sip water from the village well.
A sudden commotion near the main gates drew his attention. Cam shoved through the crowd that was forming and found Dagan standing with the scout’s he’d sent out earlier in the day. They were dirty and sweating, and one of them had soot stains and ash on his face. Cam forced his way through the rest of the crowd and joined Dagan. In normal times, he’d be scolded and sent away, but Dagan merely nodded at him and accepted his presence.
“It was burned,” Morcann said. His brow was dripping sweat and his eyes were wide with fear. “There was nothing left of it. Kenden went inside, he said—” Morcann stopped himself.
Kenden looked up, his face smeared with ash. “Blood,” he said. “Saw blood in there. If they survived, I don’t… I don’t know how.”
Dagan glanced at Cam, his eyes hard. “Good work,” he said to the scouts. “Go rest for a moment. We’re leaving shortly.”
Kenden nodded and wandered off, pushing through the crowd. Godug lingered with Morcann as the man stepped closer to Dagan.
“Do you really think there were Weres?” he asked. “That close to the village?”
“Yes,” Dagan said. “And all the more reason to evacuate.”
Morcann’s eyes flared with fear. “They’ll hunt us out there.”
“I know,” Dagan said. “But better we have a chance than sit here and die.”
Morcann nodded then let Godug lead him away by the elbow. Cam watched them go then turned to Dagan.
“We need to go,” Cam said. “As soon as possible.”
“We’re nearly ready,” he said. “But—”
“What is the meaning of this?” a voice cut through the crowd, booming with anger.
The crowd broke apart as Arter stormed through its midst. He had his two sons with him, Janter and Vorn, twins a couple of years older than Cam. They looked just like their father, though both of them were heavy set and bursting out of their tunics. They had soft faces and dark eyes, and Janter looked around with a scowl on his lips as he shifted from foot to foot like he couldn’t stand still.
“The decision has been made,” Dagan snapped at Arter. “Kraed returned to the village and agreed with me. It’s time we left.”
“Left?” Arter stared around him. “There are farmsteads burning not an hour’s run from here. You think we can possibly leave now, with the Weres bearing down on us at this very moment?”
“If we stay, we will get overrun,” Dagan said. “Good walls or not, we can’t hold out.”
“We are not leaving,” Arter boomed, his face turning red. “I didn’t work hard to build this village, to build its walls, to—”
Something inside of Cam snapped. He felt like his body might break from the tension that rolled along his muscles. He pushed past Dagan and stepped up to Arter’s face. The man took a big step back, his eyes wide with surprise, and Cam heard a little murmur run up through the crowd.
“Shut your mouth, Arter,” Cam growled. “You damned fool. We all know you want to stay here because you own the biggest farm for miles. You have profit here, and it’s been treating you well. Just look at your fat sons.”
Janter gasped and even Vorn, who was usually silent and stolid, looked offended. But Cam couldn’t care less about the twin pigs.
“How dare you—” Arter started.
“The boy’s right,” Kraed called out, hobbling over. He looked even drunker than he had before, which was saying something. “You stupid shit, Arter. It’s time to leave, and everyone here knows it but you.”
“I can’t… you won’t…” Arter took another step back.
“Pack your things,” Cam said. “Go take your sons and prepare to leave.” He turned away from the Elder and addressed the crowd, his voice angry and booming. “I saw the Weres out there,” he said. “They overwhelmed my father, despite his magic. I know what they can do and how dangerous they are. But I also know that if we don’t try and reach the safety of the Mansion, we’ll never survive. Our walls are strong and kept us safe for a long time, but the world is changing, and it’s time to accept that. If we’re fast, we can make it, but we have to leave now. Finish your preparations, we leave within the hour.”
For a moment, there was
silence as people stared at Cam. He was known in the village, respected even. Cam was the shaman’s son, the Galerick’s boy. But Cam always kept to himself and his two friends, wasn’t loud or boastful, didn’t make himself known more than was necessary. He was the best with the spear and staff, the strongest man his age, but he never made it a point to prove that to anyone that didn’t ask.
But now, he felt like the village had lost its mind. He could see how torn the people were, how they could hardly believe they were uprooting their existence for a threat they couldn’t see. He understood it and empathized with them, since he was leaving his life behind as well.
But it was time to move, and Cam was finished being quiet.
“Get moving,” Dagan barked behind Cam, and the crowd suddenly dispersed.
Arter stood there with his two sons, looking outraged. But instead of speaking again, he turned and stormed off.
Kraed laughed and stumbled over to Cam. “Nice speech,” he said. “But you just made an enemy.”
“He already hated me,” Cam said, shaking his head.
“Still, it was well done,” Dagan added. “And you’re right. We’ll leave within the hour, ready or not.”
Cam nodded and turned away from the Elders as they began to discuss the route they’d take. He caught sight of Key, standing a few feet away from her parents. She had a strange look on her face, one Cam had never seen before. She was looking at him with a strange intensity, like she was seeing him for the first time, or like she could look directly through his clothes. But instead of making him uncomfortable, that look only made his heart beat faster, made him want to walk over there and take her into his face, feel her warm body against his.
She smiled and tilted her head at him. He smiled back then turned to join the others in finishing their preparations.
10
The main gate opened and the village rolled out along the cart tracks that wound their way through the forest and toward the mountain Mansion.
