by Socha, Walt
“Easy girl,” Larry said over the creak of the leather saddle as he hauled himself onto Bitchess.
Joe nudged Kristi’s mare east, following their fresh tracks. Within minutes they passed the remains of the village of Spring Fish. Ahead, the trail narrowed as it approached the broken edge of the river-cut ridge. A small path forked off the main trail and lead to the river. The prints followed it.
As they neared the water, a flash of color brought Joe to a stop. A red blanket lay on a bed of moss under a fat oak with a trunk as wide as an outstretched arm.
“Damn.” Joe dismounted. Prints. Kristi’s boots marks. Many different moccasins. Kristi’s jacket hung on a low branch. Joe lifted the jacket aside. Under it hung her gun belt.
“Shit.” Brent’s face drained of color.
Joe dropped the jacket on the blanket and tried to make sense of the tracks. Total confusion around the blanket. But multiple prints converged out of the surrounding forest. And more traveled down the path. Joe followed.
The path ended in a small sandy backwash. Footprints radiated outwards. But all returned along the path. Joe stepped into the water and looked back at the shoreline, sickness weighing down his stomach. Two canoe skid marks bruised the riverside vegetation, the edges of the disturbed sand and soil already dry and crumbling. They had left yesterday evening.
“Joe?” Larry stood next to Brent at the edge of the water. Both looked at him with the wide eyes of lost children.
Joe glanced once more downstream. The heaviness threatened to overwhelm him. But there was no choice about what they had to do. Only the how.
He looked at his friends. “We ride in an hour. We’ll cross the river to Two Ribs and follow the trail on the west side of the river. We know it better. We’ll need guns, food and water, and a spare horse each. Plus one each for Kristi and Levanu.” He paused, staring directly at Larry. “Maybe two spares for you. You’ll want Mojo to be fresh when we get there. Any extra armor?”
“Lighter stuff. Just leather. Maybe enough for another horse.”
“Put it on Flicker.” Joe took one last look at the empty water. “Potts and Alita will have to take the kids up into the hills. The elders will probably want to stay in Haven. We’ll leave Samatu chained up with them. And fence the remaining horses in one of the eastern pastures.”
“Sesapa?” Larry asked.
“With Potts. And we better take Nikaku along with us to watch the extra horses when we get there. Wherever that ends up being.” Joe slogged out of the water. “Help me pick up Kristi’s stuff. Then let’s move.”
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“I’ll take the next watch.” Joe wiped his hands on his jeans. Dinner had been jerky and a few of the remaining energy bars.
“Works for me.” Larry kept his eyes on the flickering fire. “Still not sure about this fire.”
“It’d be all right if it draws attention.” Brent’s voice carried around the old oak. He was out of sight of the fire to maintain his night vision. “I’m up for a little conversation with those white clay characters.”
Nikaku sat silent, the young warrior’s face alternating between terror and pride.
Joe held his face in his hands. “Damn, everything has gone to shit.”
“Hey, up until this happened, I was having a ball.” Larry frowned, his strained face further contorted by the flickering fire. “Well, except for the dead bodies.” He glanced at Nikaku.
“As Potts would say when he’s off on that Buddhist stuff, we’re all dead eventually.” A yawn slipped through the night from behind the oak. “Why don’t you guys try to get some sleep? The sooner you do, the sooner I can wake you to spell me.”
“Tomorrow?” Larry shifted his frame lower to the ground and leaned against his saddle.
“We’ll keep close to the river.” Joe unrolled his blanket and readjusted his saddle. “With an eye on the other bank. As far as I can tell, the trail is better on this side.
I’m hoping that’s to our advantage.”
“Any more thoughts on how far we’ll hafta go?” “Brent, how far to Chesapeake Bay?”
“About a hundred miles. Maybe less.”
“What was that fancy plan again?” Larry pulled a wool blanket from his saddlebag and flicked it over his torso. Joe leaned back on his saddle and adjusted his own blanket. “I don’t think we’ll be able to negotiate.” He shifted, moving his hip off a root. “Depends on what we find. The default plan is to try for surprise. I’ll take two spare horses and try to get to Kristi and Levanu. The remaining horses and supplies we’ll leave with Nikaku.” Joe nodded to Nikaku and shifted his gaze to Larry. “You and Brent cover me while I free them. Assume that we won’t have time to reload, so make every shot count. If there’s more warriors than bullets, we die.”
Joe met Nikaku’s eyes. “In the latter case, you get your ass back to Haven and let Potts know what happened. From then on, your job is to protect the kids.” The hollowness in his core turned into physical pain. “And Alita.”
Nikaku just nodded, eyes a little wider, back a little straighter.
“I’ll go over Kristi’s pistol with Nikaku again tomorrow,” Brent said. “I’ll load it with .38s instead of the magnums. Less recoil for him to deal with.”
After a few minutes of silence, Brent asked, “So, besides wishing we had brought more firepower, any new thoughts on this crossover thing?”
Joe hesitated. There was the one glaring anomaly. It couldn’t possibly be connected but his friends deserved to make up their own minds. Especially now. “After my interview with the Sheriff, he asked it I knew anything about Medicine Elders across North America dying in an apparent ceremony. He was wondering if my experience saving Alta—Alita—could be related.” Joe looked at Brent, and then Larry. “I told him that nothing I saw seemed connected to their deaths.”
“Anything else?” Brent asked.
“I did have a couple of dreams about an older man, maybe a Medicine Elder, babbling about a ‘path’.”
“Could he have been one of the dead men from Alita’s village?”
“No, he was wearing glasses.” Joe glanced at Larry. Both eyebrows were raised. “Wire rimmed. Said something about a ‘different path’.”
No one spoke for many minutes.
Larry broke the silence. “So, if we ignore common sense, we’re here because a bunch of dead old men wanted us to be?”
“I would claim that, given the past month or so, common sense is not something we should rely upon,” Brent said.
“It’s too crazy.” Joe slowly shook his head. Maybe they were all losing it.
“Ain’t too crazy to connect way crazy events.” Larry’s hand snaked out from under his blanket and loosened his sword in its scabbard. “Remind me to make you guys some real weapons when I get my forge together.”
Joe lay awake for a long time.
Chapter 32. Day 44
Joe rode up as Larry’s blade slid out of the white clay sentry’s chest. Blood welled then stopped.
They were in a small clearing at the top of a hill. The trail continued downhill in and out of a thick forest and behind a smaller hill. A mile on, a village occupied the area to the right of the river’s mouth. The expanse of water beyond glimmered in the afternoon sun.
Larry wiped the blade on the long grass and sheathed it. “What do ya see?”
Joe raised the binoculars to his eyes. “Hard to tell through the trees, but I think the other sentry is halfway down the hill. Maybe a quarter mile.” He shifted his gaze. “Most of the village occupies the land next to the river but extends along the bay. Most activity is centered on what looks like ceremonial poles at the center of the village. I’m guessing that’s where we’ll find Kristi and Levanu.” “Movement below us.” Larry swung up onto Mojo and pointed down the hill.
Joe shifted his binoculars again. “Another man. No, two men joined the sentry. Now one is running down the trail.”
“Plan?” Brent pulled up beside Joe. Behind him, Nikaku ente
red the clearing, leading the spare horses.
“We need to get to those poles.” Joe slipped the binoculars into his saddlebag. His heart pounded. “Brent, you lead with that AR. Larry, next. Rifle or sword.” He looked at his friends. “At least two warriors on the trail below us. There may be others. Ready?”
Brent slid his hand under the boiled leather hides that covered Flicker’s neck and scratched her. He raised one eyebrow toward Joe.
Larry adjusted a strap securing the armor that covered Mojo’s shoulders and withers then looked up and nodded. “I’ll follow with two of the spare horses.” Joe paused and looked back at the village. “No, best only take one. It’ll be too chaotic leading two in those close quarters. I’ll get Kristi mounted and put Levanu behind me. The horses are going to be spooked so I may need help.” He resisted the urge to shake his head at this shit plan. “Then we go home.”
Joe looked over his left shoulder toward Nikaku and held out his left hand. The young warrior nudged his horse forward and handed Joe the lead rope to Kristi’s horse, keeping the horse meant for Levanu along with the spares. Joe twisted in his saddle and held out his right hand.
Nikaku’s eyebrows narrowed for a heartbeat before he nodded and grasped Joe’s hand with his own.
Larry maneuvered Mojo to the other side of the young warrior to also shake the youth’s hand. Then moved out of the way to allow Brent his turn.
Joe checked his pistol. “Let’s do this.” He nudged Snark forward, left hand holding the lead rope of Kristi’s horse out to the side.
In a heartbeat, Brent galloped down the trail, followed by Larry.
They were at a dead run as they approached the two warriors. The nearest raised his club. Two sharp cracks echoed through the landscape and they both fell.
The trail curved through the trees, following the hilly terrain. They passed several burned huts. As he moved into the flatter land near the river, Joe slowed. Ahead, the trail split into two paths into the village. A line of a dozen or so warriors stood side by side across the larger left path into the village.
Brent started to turn to the other path.
Joe’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two paths. Too easy. “No,” Joe yelled.
Brent swerved back toward the warriors, his AR15 up and stitching death. The line of men dissolved, several bodies staggering or twitching on the ground, others breaking to run. Sword out, Larry slowed to cut down any remaining obstacles. Joe rode unhindered into the village following Brent and Larry, now side by side.
Huts swept past. A woman’s face appeared in a doorway and vanished. A dog charged from the left. Flicker ran him down. A body flashed to the right. Larry swung. The body fell with a cry from Larry.
The ceremonial poles appeared. A dozen warriors had formed a line in front. From the right, a larger number of warriors appeared. The other path had been a trap.
Brent swerved toward the larger group of warriors, leaving Larry to rush the men in front of the poles. Joe followed Larry, right hand on his reins, left still leading Kristi’s horse.
The warriors fell or scattered before Larry’s attack, revealing two bodies leaning against upright poles, hands tied above their heads. Joe pulled up before the poles as Larry circled, his slashing sword keeping the warriors at bay. Kristi was naked, body smeared with mud or blood.
Levanu slumped from a pole a few yards away, something dangling from around his waist. Kristi raised her head and looked at Joe with blood-shot eyes.
Joe slid off Snark, transferring both reins to his left hand. Fighting the agitated horses, he pulled out his knife and slashed her bonds. She collapsed. He resheathed the knife and stooped to get his right arm under Kristi. A hand appeared, grabbing the reins. Brent’s.
Joe lifted Kristi to her feet with both hands. “You need to get on Sweetpea.” At the horse’s name, Kristi blinked, her eyes focusing. Joe moved around Snark and hefted Kristi onto Sweetpea and faced Brent. “Take her.”
Joe turned to untie Levanu. And froze. Levanu’s abdomen was sliced open, intestines spewing onto the ground. Levanu raised his head, mouth open wide in a silent scream.
A shot cracked and Levanu’s head jerked. Brent sat frozen on Flicker, AR at his shoulder, eyes streaming tears.
Joe gasped a breath. “Get her out of here.”
As Joe grabbed Snark’s reins, Brent shouted, “Behind you.” Joe leaped forward, turning to put his back against Snark, and clawed the rifle out of its scabbard. He faced rushing warriors.
Brent’s AR spat. Two of the warriors fell, their screams adding to the cacophony of chaos.
Joe got his rifle up. Fired. One warrior collapsed backwards. Two more lifted and swung clubs. Joe blocked the right club with the rifle, the impact knocking him back against Snark. The horse shifted and Joe lost his balance. As he hit the ground, a frantic hoof knocked the rifle from his hand. Joe scuttled backwards, dodging another hoof. He shifted onto his left side and drew his revolver. Two white clay faces loomed above him. He fired. And again.
Another club appeared. Steel flashed and the club fell to the side, a dismembered hand still clutching its handle.
“Joe.” A metal clad forearm appeared.
Joe grabbed the hand and felt his arm jerked upwards. Crashing onto Mojo’s back, Joe scrambled to get his leg across the horse, and the revolver slipped from his grip.
He clutched Larry’s steel armor. “Go.”
The edges of the armor cut into Joe’s fingers as Mojo bolted.
More warriors appeared on either side of Mojo. Larry’s sword flashed. Joe hung on with his left hand and drew Larry’s pistol with his right. He twisted and fired to the left. Larry continued swinging on the right. Warriors parted, some fleeing.
A flash. A spear sprouted from Larry’s shoulder, and he shuddered under Joe’s hand. They were at the edge of the village. Ahead, Brent led Kristi’s horse.
Snark appeared beside them as they fled.
At the top of the hill, Brent pulled up and slid to the ground. He lifted the AR to his shoulder and, with a face now naked of emotion, picked off the braver of the pursuers one by one.
Nikaku appeared with the spare horses.
Leaving Larry leaning against Mojo’s neck, Joe slipped from Larry’s horse. He pulled a jacket from his horse’s saddlebags and helped Kristi off her horse and into it. Some blood but mostly dirt. Her skin was pale and she shook. Shock. “Kristi, I need your help. Larry’s wounded.” “On the ground,” she whispered through shuddering breaths.
Joe signaled Nikaku and, with his help, lowered the swaying man to the ground. Joe steadied the spear shaft and Nikaku held Larry’s shoulder as Kristi dug her fingers in between the plates of the armor. In a few minutes, she had the spear point out. Blood gushed, and then subsided. Larry’s eyes were wide. “It was just a kid,” he said over and over again. He seemed oblivious to his shoulder.
Joe tore strips from his blanket and helped Kristi’s shaking hands form a bandage and stuff it under the armor. “I think you’d better go.” Brent grabbed a handful of shells from his vest pocket and started filling one of his empty magazines.
“We all go.” Joe helped Larry stand and turned to face Brent. “Haven needs you.” Joe looked down the hill where warriors swarmed, keeping to the trees and off the open trail. “They won’t catch up.”
Brent stared at Joe, his face impassive. After several seconds, he nodded.
Joe helped a muttering Larry mount Mojo as Nikaku assisted Kristi. They rode.
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Tork smiled at the dejected postures of his warriors. His surviving warriors. The demons had swept through them like a knife through a young sacrifice. But not because of their power or their speed. Their weapons held the power. And their deer-like animals provided the speed. His core warriors, the Skullmen, had not been present.
Divided into small groups, they had been visiting local villages along the Salt Waters, insuring tribute and children. They would return soon. This disaster wouldn’t have
occurred if they had been here. But out of failure rose knowledge. He now knew the source of the strangers’ power.
He studied the hard objects in his hand. They were smooth like the copper pebbles from the land beyond Three Rivers that his best workers pounded into knapping tools. But these were much harder.
He looked down at the weapons that lay on a skin at his feet. He had observed with wonder the power of these weapons. Now he had two. The smaller had been held with one hand. The long one with two hands. He had moved the hard narrow fingers as he had seen the strangers do. But nothing happened.
His fingers worried one of the small objects. Several of these had fallen from the long weapon. More could be seen in the shorter weapon. Almost like small containers of magic. But empty. He must obtain more. And their war animals.
“What are your orders?” Nist appeared at his side, face frozen against the pain of his head wound. His faithful companion had recognized the demon thunder and, in spite of the lightning wound in his left arm, had lead the common warriors. Only to be fallen by the black demon. He no longer bled and would heal to fight again. Perhaps the demon’s glancing blow had been a gift from the gods. It kept him alive to fight another day.
To fight with their new knowledge.
“Find those who fled and assemble the rest for a Judgment Circle.” Tork gazed upriver. “First I will deal with the cowards. Then, when the Skullmen return, I will send some of them upriver to study these demons.”
“Study?”
“I want their knowledge before I destroy them.” Tork grinned as he held out his hand holding an empty container of magic. “But they will also free Samatu and obtain these.”
Nist’s face broke into a smile.
Chapter 33. Day 49
Joe shifted his arm in a vain attempt to find a position that didn’t throb. He hadn’t even realized that his left arm had been sliced open until hours after the rescue. Kristi had roused herself from a silent isolation to stitch it the first night of the return journey.
