Lord of the High Reaches
By: James A. Haddock III
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No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Lord of the High Reaches
His human father named him Cam, as he and his clan were chameleon cats. Kol-ha is what the clan called him, which means shame in clannish. Being a half-breed, Cam was not allowed to take the test to become a clan member. Cam decides that rather than he not being worthy to be part of the clan, the clan is not worthy of him. Taking nothing, he leaves the clan to find his place in the world. Though ignorant to the ways of the ‘outside’ world, Cam is a quick learner. His first lesson is the outside world is at war, and he is inadvertently drawn into it. Saving the life of a nobleman’s son, from an invading army’s scouts sets him on a path to meet the King of the Eastern Kingdom. As a reward Cam is given lands and becomes a pawn in the King’s chess game. Cam sees it for what it is and decides he doesn’t want any part of the King’s game. Fate, however, has a different plan. Cam discovers two moored airships in a plague-stricken village with a single survivor, La-mar. He also finds new weapon innovations, and information that will change the balance of power in the Kingdoms. With La-mar’s help, Captain Cam finds himself and his ships back in the King’s chess game. This time it’s with more than one King and Kingdom playing, and they’re playing for blood. When they kill some of Cam’s friends, he spoils their chessboard when he starts playing by his rules of fang and claw.
Chapter 1
I sat in the drizzling rain watching the village below. The village had been my home for 16 summers. All was quiet, except for the light breeze moving through the trees. Even though I wore no garments, I was not cold. The wind and rain did not penetrate my chameleon fur which kept me warm and dry.
Time seemed to drag; the last three years had been the worst of my life. Three years ago, my father, a human, had left. He was to return to us the following year, but never did. A scout-trader, I thought he was invincible, apparently not. That was a hard lesson for me. My mother…my beautiful mother…died a year later from the fever; it was a mercy that she went quickly.
My uncle, one of the best hunters and an honored member in our cat-clan, was killed while hunting earlier this summer. My chances of becoming a full member of the clan died with him. Uncle would have stood with me before the clan council to be tested and pass into adulthood. My last chance was tonight when the council recognized the boys who were judged worthy to stand for the test. Once again, I was passed over.
"You are dismissed, Kol-ha," the clan leader said.
The clan called me Kol-ha, which means shame in our clannish language. I was a half-breed, but my father, dismissive of the derogatory term, called me a hybrid. I think part of why they deemed me unfit was because my face, though covered with fur, looked more human than cat. I stood before the council shaking, not from fear, but barely controlled rage. I did not show teeth, which would have been a challenge, but it was a close thing.
"You have judged me unworthy because of something I have no control over. I have met all the requirements set forth by the clan, just as these others have. The clan teaches we should each be judged on our merit, our honor. I see now that was a lie."
A male two years my senior, Darkeyes by name, sprang to his feet to cuff me. Ducking under his swing and turning into him, I hit him in the stones, doubling him over, and then punched him in his temple. He hit the floor face first, unconscious. One of his friends, Redflank, rose growling. I turned to face him. I am not overly large, but I am strong and extremely quick.
"Enough!" Clan leader shouted.
"And another lesson falls this night," I snorted, derisively. "I thought it was forbidden to attack anyone in a clan meeting, where everyone may speak freely." I could see the clan leader’s jaw muscles bunched; he was not happy. Though I was unsure which one of us he was angrier at.
"You have had your say Kol-ha, either take a seat with the other youths or leave."
I nodded, looking at the clan gathered around the fire. There were no friendly faces here.
"Yes, Clan leader," I said. Bowing, I turned and left the clan lodge. I never acknowledged the name they called me. Father called me Cam, which is short for camouflage, or C-cat which is what humans call us.
After mom died, I had kept our hut, and this was where I headed. The small fire was burning in the center of the single room which had been our home. Taking off my vest and dropping it in the fire, my kilt and moccasins followed. I broke the flint knife and spear and dropped those into the flames along with everything else that I had made as part of my rights of passage requirements.
It was done. There was nothing and no one for me here. The clan had never fully accepted me as one of their own and never would. I would take nothing but memories with me. I would live the old way, by my wits and claws. I would make replacement garments, tools, and weapons as soon as I could. Though I was hardly without weapons, I extended my claws looking at them. Taking one last look around, I took down the door covering, signifying that the hut was abandoned. I walked away from the village and into the forest.
That had been an hour ago. It was raining harder now, bringing my thoughts back to the present. I rose, and with one last look down on the village, I turned and leaped up into the trees. My plan was to head for the river and follow it north. Hunting would be easier along the river, and unlike most cats, I did not mind the water or getting wet. That was one of the gifts from my father, who taught me to swim and enjoy the water.
As I traveled, I watched the riverbed for flint. A few small pieces were found, but a bigger one was needed to make a knife. Someday, I would own steel weapons and maybe even a short gun like my father. But that was still in the future.
Plant fibers were plentiful in the area and easily gathered as I walked. Braided together, they would make a strong sling. Later, I'd make a leather one, but this would do for now. I had made a lot of these. I would practice with them until they broke, then make another. I was a good shot with a sling and killed a rabbit for dinner.
Over the next two days, off and on, I had began to have a sense of unease, a sense of something being not quite right. As this inner disquiet became more pronounced, I frequently looked over my shoulder. At some point, the feeling became a mixture of wariness mixed with dread. Something -or someone- was coming, and it or they were bad. Suddenly, I felt like … prey, and in that instant, I knew I was being followed and what to do. The prey needed to become the predator.
Heading toward the river and deliberately breaking a few twigs along the way, I left a good set of prints leading up to the water’s edge and entered. The river had a current that moved with moderate speed. I let it carry me downstream a ways, but not too far. A place with partially submerged trees looked like a good place to exit. Grabbing low hanging limbs, hand over hand, I pulled myself onto a small, somewhat rocky shore. It was a good place to avoid leaving tracks.
Now was the time to backtrack and circle around behind my pursuers. Gathering a few stones for my sling, I began circling and eventually found a trail. Looking at the disturbed soil, it was easy to see two sets of moccasin-clad feet. Judging by the size, they were full-grown C-cats. I followed them quietly through the forest, gradually closing in.
As soon as I saw them, I recognized Darkeyes and Redflank. There was little doubt what they were here for. I had embarrassed them in front of the entire clan, and they wanted blood. Since I was no longer under clan protection, I was free game. Unfortunately for them, so were they. I continued to follow them, being careful to remain silent and unseen. Finally, they reached where I had entered the water.
The first stone from my sling hit Redflank in the back of his head. He fell like a tree, face first into the water. My second stone was not as accurate and only glanced off Darkeye's forehead. He was dazed, but not out. As he regained his balance, I closed on him. Unsheathing a knife, he lunged toward my chest. It was easy to parry with my forearm, turning it aside, and digging my claws into his wrist as it passed. I pulled him along, then reversed his motion, stabbing him in the chest with his own knife. Surprised, Darkeyes looked down at his own flint knife buried in his chest, and then collapsed, blood quickly pooling around his body.
I looked around and saw Redflank was still face down in the water. Having pulled the knife out of Darkeyes, I walked over to Redflank. He was dead, though I'm not sure if my stone killed him or if he had drowned. Either way, he was dead. I pulled him from the river and laid him beside Darkeyes.
These were the first people I had killed. I had heard warriors talk about how you were never the same after taking a life. Some said they threw up and had nightmares. It was unlikely that I would be one of those. I didn't feel bad; they were going to kill me, but I didn't feel good about it either. They were the dead enemy. All they had was now mine, which saved me from having to make new.
I bundled up everything and crossed the river. I left the bodies where they laid. The forest animals would see to them. I continued north for an hour, then made camp. I checked their travel bags and found flint and steel. I washed the garments, then started a fire to dry them by. While they were drying, I hunted and killed another rabbit for supper.
While the rabbit was cooking, I dumped the travel bags out to see what was in them. They carried the usual travel things, flint and steel, sliver-bone and sinew for sewing, bee's wax, bone-awl, and such. What I didn't expect were the few nuggets of gold in a small pouch one had been carrying. That would come in handy when I found a trading post. There were also two flint knives, a small skinning flint, and two spears with flint tips, a pair of sandals, and two sets of moccasins. One pair was a high-top set favored by Redflank, and the other was low-top.
After eating, I dressed in a now dried kilt and vest and put everything back in the travel bags and changed camp sites. For no other reason than I felt like it, I found a large tree to spend the night in. I was not sleepy, and my mind wandered back to a better place and time. I thought back on all the times I had spent in the forest with father or uncle. I learned everything I could from them and loved every minute of it. Few cubs would have anything to do with me, and as we grew older that number shrank to zero.
It bothered me at first, but father saw my lack of friends and devoted as much time as he could to training me. Because of the training and all the time I spent alone in the forest, I became one of the best hunters in the clan. That made no difference to them; no one wanted to have me in their hunting group. Mother always shared our extra food with the widows and old ones. Funny, they didn't seem to remember our kindness when I stood before the council. Their loss was my final thought before sleep claimed me.
* * *
Two weeks had passed since I left the clan. I continued to follow the river northwest. Each day was much like the one before. Hunting continued to be good, and I ate well. I was getting into the foothills of the mountain range that I had always heard of. Father had taught me the higher you went into the mountains, the cooler the nights would be.
The river's flow was becoming faster and the water colder. I made sure I crossed before it became more difficult. Father had said there was a trading post at the south end of the mountain range, but I never saw it. Winter would be coming soon, and I needed to be ready. I thought I might find a cave to use for my winter home, but I needed to claim it before a bear did.
I began scouting for a cave that was close to the river, but not too low or too close to avoid being flooded when spring rains swelled the river after winter. Turns out caves are not as numerous as I had thought. Two small caves were located early on, but did not suit my needs. After a week of searching, a suitable one was found large enough for sleeping and working. It had been used some time in the past, as evidenced by the fire marks on the wall and ceiling. Starting a fire to see if smoke would draw out, I was relieved to see that it went to the back of the cave and up through cracks in the ceiling.
Now that adequate shelter was taken care of, supplies were needed. Making racks from tree limbs, meat and fish were smoked. Root vegetables were dug and laid out. Firewood was stocked inside as well, so I didn't have to go out during storms.
At night, I stared into my small fire, letting my thoughts drift. There was a big difference between people shunning you and being totally alone. It was a lot harder preparing and laying in stores by yourself. Additionally, a one-person security plan required more ingenuity since rotating guards were not an option. Although it was unlikely anyone would pass this far into the forest, exercising an abundance of caution, I blocked off the cave entrance with a deerskin and rocks. An inner gate with sharpened stakes tilted toward the entrance would create a nasty surprise if someone or something barged in. Camouflaging the outside was achieved by using small tree limbs interwoven with local evergreen branches.
Working from sunup to sundown made the time pass quickly, and the first frost seemed to happen overnight. Not far behind the frost came the first snowfall. My fur had filled with a thick undercoat, and I only needed a small fire to keep warm; otherwise, I would overheat. I felt I would be okay with the supplies laid in and what I could hunt during the winter.
This whole area was covered in large trees with thick limbs. Almost daily, I left the cave and went straight up into the trees. By doing so, no tracks were left. For my chameleon fur to better hide me, I wore no garments outside. The coldness of the air felt good and moving through the canopy broke the boredom. I was getting plenty of exercise. On days the winter storms kept me inside, I exercised and stretched. Hunting was good, and I was adding lean muscle as well as height.
This became my routine, day after day. When trapped inside by storms, time seemed to crawl by. Sometimes at night, I would sit in the tree outside the cave, watching the stars and listening to the world. One midwinter night, a distant gunshot rang out. Instantly, my ears perked up. The sound was not repeated. Father always said curiosity was a danger to cats. I never quite understood why. Keeping to the trees, I headed in the direction of the shot.
I moved steadily through the canopy, stopping from time to time to listen, then continuing on. After traveling perhaps two miles, I saw firelight and moved toward it. Not knowing who or what was there, I approached from downwind.
Four men stood looking down at one who had his leg trapped under his dead horse. Two of the four held torches aloft.
"Good shot, that," one of the four said.
"Luck, more like," another replied. The four laughed.
Moving to a closer limb, I looked down on them. They all wore cloaks over rough looking brown uniforms with billed hats. The one trapped under the horse wore green with a flop hat. There didn't seem to be any others around, nor did I see or smell more horses.
Reloading his gun, the shooter asked, “Where's your company, Eastie?"
"Let me just slit his throat and be done with him," one said, dropping his backpack and drawing his knife.
"How about it, Eastie? You got anything to say, or should I let Slim finish you off? He likes his knife work, don't you, Slim?"
"I do for a fact," Slim answered.
"Yes, I have something to say," Eastie replied. "When you are finished with me, you gentlemen should take a bath. You reek of goat urine."
"He means you,
Bones," Slim laughed.
The one closest to Eastie －Bones, I assumed－kicked him.
"You got sand, Eastie. I'll give you that," Shooter said.
"Let me carve on him some; see if he holds out," Slim said.
Shooter thought a moment, "Yeah, carve on him a little. The captain will want answers."
I made my decision and dropped behind the center two. Reaching through their legs, I ripped out their femoral arteries with my claws. They screamed, dropped the torches, and grabbed their bloody inner thighs. I grabbed Shooter's windpipe and tore it out. Slim was turning toward me. Before I could strike, Eastie drew a short gun and shot him through the head. I took Shooter’s gun from his hand, released his throat, and let him fall. I looked at the other two. Their blood turning the snow red, they’d be dead shortly.
I looked toward Eastie, who was staring at me.
"That leg broke?" I asked, rubbing my hands in snow to get the blood off. At least, it wasn’t my blood.
He blinked a few times before responding. "If it's not, it missed a good opportunity."
"You think we can pull you out or do we need to dig?"
"Let's try pulling first. The ground’s frozen."
I nodded, laying the short gun down. He reloaded his own weapon and holstered it. Taking a good hold on him, I pulled as he pushed against the dead horse with his free leg. It took us a few times, but we got him free.
"It's not broke, but I won't be running anywhere for a while," he winced, rubbing his leg.
"Any of their friends around?" I asked, searching their bodies.
"Probably, but not close, or they'd be here by now."
I took their harnesses, holsters, and belts, and all the weapons. I dumped the backpack out, tossing what I couldn't use to the side, then repacked it. I put the shot, powder, and everything else of value in the pack.
I could see he was watching me but made no moves.
"Do you need any of this stuff?"
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