Gunwitch

by David Michael

  Again, Janett had surprised Rose by curling up on the ground next to Major Haley and going to sleep, holding the major’s hand clasped to her bosom. No complaints, and no demands. Only the slightest whimper just before she fell asleep. Rose felt the stirrings of sympathy for the girl. The major had tried to catch her eye, but she had looked away.

  She had built three simple snares, but in the morning they were untripped and empty. The army they followed had frightened off the game. As the four of them had continued their march even the birds were subdued, keeping their calls to one another short and low, and staying behind the cover of leaves and branches.

  Rose forced herself to approach the remains of the farmhouse. She picked up the rifle and checked it. The gun had been fired and discarded. It was an old gun, and seen a lot of use. Still, it would fire.

  Chal walked past her to the farmhouse as she gave the gun a quick cleaning. When she had finished, she loaded the gun, then handed it to Janett. “Cock it by pulling back the hammer,” she said. “Then point it and squeeze the trigger.”

  Janett looked shocked, then scandalized, her mouth opening to say something as she took the rifle in both hands. Then she closed her mouth again and met Rose’s eyes. The girl only nodded and held the gun awkwardly in front of her.

  Rose gave Janett a tight smile, then said, “Get that shovel, Major. We might need it.”

  “A shovel?” asked Janett.

  Rose looked back at Janett, her annoyance at the girl welling up again.

  Janett looked away. “Never mind,” she said.

  Rose did not know what to say, so she walked to the front of the house where Chal stood, looking in. “Find anything?”

  Chal pointed with her chin and Rose peered through the broken doorframe. In the far corner, lit by the gaping hole in the roof, bloody handprints were on the wall, and streaks, as if someone had tried to grab the bare wall while being pulled up. A grunzer had lifted the roof off the house, and pushed it out of the way. Then it had reached in and grabbed whoever had been cowering there, probably the woman of the house. Rose saw nothing in the debris to indicate any children had lived here, only a fisherman and his wife.

  Rose’s heart went cold again at the thought of Margaret. The clutching corpse of the little girl had not been Margaret. She had been bait. In a trap for Rose. She knew Ducoed had not killed Margaret. She did not know what Ducoed had in mind, but she was sure that Margaret was still alive. If Margaret had been dead–or harmed or worse–then Ducoed would have used Margaret’s own corpse to bait the trap.

  It was small comfort.

  And that small comfort did nothing to ease the shame and fear that had settled into Rose’s gut. Humiliation at being anticipated so completely, and being made to flee for her life. Shame that Chal had had to reveal herself. Guilt at having to leave Margaret for still longer in Ducoed’s clutches. And scared as hell at what Ducoed and whoever–or whatever–it was he had now allied himself to might subject the girl to. Death was not always the worst thing that could happen.

  Rose turned her back on the house. “Let’s move,” she said. They had to reach the fort. Colonel Laxton would have the troops to hunt Ducoed down. The reinforcements from New Venezia might have reached Fort Russell by now. At worst, they were still a day away. Either way, their only hope lay in the fort.

  * * *

  The path they followed turned southwest less than a mile after the destroyed house.

  “Peculiar,” Major Haley said, leaning against the shovel he carried. “If they aren’t headed to attack the fort, where are they are going?”

  “To cut off the fort,” Chal said.

  Rose looked down the trampled path as far as she could, and for the one hundredth time that day calculated troop movement rates marching upriver with a full supply train. “They turned to join with Ducoed’s force,” she said. “Then they’ll attack the reinforcements. At the rate they’ve been marching, they reached the river last night. If we move fast, maybe we can reach the fort before they do.”

  The major stared at her. “To warn them?”

  Rose ignored him and met Chal’s eyes. “Are you up to it?” she asked. “Do you think the Seekers–?”

  Chal smiled a sad smile. “The Seekers are already on their way, I have no doubt. And this time they will find me.”

  “No!” Rose said. “We’ll get the major and Janett to the fort. Then you can slip out and head inland, and we’ll find each other again, like before …” She let her voice drift off as Chal shook her head.

  “Who are the seekers?” Major Haley asked.

  “The Seekers will do what they must,” Chal said. “And so will we.”

  “We’re going to have to run,” Rose said.

  Chal held out her left hand and Rose took it in her right. Electricity ran up her arm and the warmth of magic bloomed in her chest and reached back into Chal, forming a link. She blinked and shook her head as the link made her hear and see double, through Chal’s ears and eyes as well as her own.

  “Major,” Chal said, holding out her right hand.

  Rose looked at Janett. “Take my hand,” she said. Janett hesitated, then shifted her grip on the rifle and took the hand Rose offered.

  “How is this going to help?” Major Haley asked. “We’re still too far from the fort to run all the way.”

  Rose forced a smile. “Major,” she said. “You should know better by now. Just don’t let go.” Then she added. “And don’t lose that shovel.”

  * * *

  They ran, the four of them hand in hand, like friends and lovers out on a spring day, the trees and plants bending to make room, the small streams and ponds dividing themselves so they stayed on dry land. The sun moved overhead, peaked, and began climbing down the western sky in front of them. And they never slowed.

  The exertion burned in Rose’s chest and turned her fingers and toes to ice. She held both Chal’s and Janett’s hands with unfeeling fingers, hoping that the cold did not hurt them. She could feel Chal’s strain, as well as her own, but with the link they bolstered each other’s strength and kept each other going.

  Smoke appeared over the tops of the trees in front of them and shown red and black in the last light of the day. Rose and Chal slowed to a walk. It was difficult not to stop altogether. Major Haley and Janett did try to stop, but Rose and Chal pulled them back into motion.

  “We are … nearly dead … on our feet … Sergeant,” the Major said. He was using the shovel as a heavy, one-handed walking stick, leaning on it every other step.

  Janett, surprisingly, said nothing. Rose looked at the girl. Janett was panting like the rest of them, but she was walking almost in step with Rose. With the butt of the old rifle cradled in her left hand, barrel propped on her shoulder, she made Rose think of new recruits at the King’s Coven. Except that even after days spent in the rough, Janett still looked more like a lady–a real lady–carrying a gun than like any soldiers Rose had known. Maybe there was some strength in the girl, after all.

  “We’re almost there, Major,” Rose said. “I expect we’ll see the outworks soon.”

  The sounds and smells of booming guns and burning wood and shouting men penetrated the woods so they heard and smelled the siege of the fort before they saw it.

  Rose let go of Janett’s hand, then Chal’s. “Wait here,” she said. She unslung her pack and dropped it to the ground next to where Chal seated herself. She was stepping through the underbrush, moving slowly and carefully to avoid any sound, even as the Major let out a groan and dropped his shovel behind her.

  The clearing around the fort had been expanded since her last visit to make room for the besieging force. She spotted Swedish banners, and Italian, and whispered a short prayer of thanks that Ducoed’s force had not beaten them to the fort.

  Fort Russell was a squat earthen and wooden structure built on top of a rocky hill that had diverted the waters of the Misi-ziibi around it to the west. The river and tall cliffs protected the fort on the north and w
est. Bastions protruded from the three inland corners of the fort. A barricade of piled earth eight feet high was the first layer of defense on the south and east sides. The inner wall had started as another earthen wall, but had been reinforced with upright tree trunks inside and out, and extended all the way around the fort. There were two towers, one on the northwest corner, overlooking the bend in the river. The other tower, built within the bastion of the southeast corner, provided a view of the clearing around the fort.

  When Rose had last seen the fort, the clearing had extended two hundred yards, a no man’s land of dirt and tree trunks that had been cut and burned out of the surrounding forest. Now the edge of the forest was at least four hundred yards from the walls of the fort, and at least five hundred men had dug in. A network of trenches with reinforced earthen battlements zigzagged across the clearing and up the slope toward the fort. There were two primary trenches, Rose saw, one starting on the south, where the Swedish forces had made their camp, and one on the east, where the Italians had bivouacked. Close to the fort, about one hundred yards from the walls, the two trench networks had connected. Between the two networks, in the southeast part of the clearing, was another camp, but one without banners and laid out very differently from those of the Europeans: Amerigon natives. Rose saw symbols of the Ni-U-Kon-Ska, the U-Mo’n-Ho’n, and others that she didn’t recognize.

  Smoke and steam roiled over the field from cannon and muskets and grunzers. The attackers had created multiple mortar positions with grunzers that squatted behind earthen battlements, their gun arm pointed nearly straight up. Other, smaller, regularly manned mortars had been set up in the trenches. In the forward sections of the trenches, men and grunzers with picks and shovels worked to dig the trenches ever closer to the walls. Within the trenches, soldiers waited, keeping their heads down and their powder dry. Some of the men closer to the fort would stand, face the walls, and take a shot. Grunzers and cannon behind the walls of the fort maintained a slow, booming rate of fire, targeting both the trenchers and the mortar positions. A few snipers also shot from the walls.

  Rose pulled back into the underbrush and retraced her steps. Chal still sat next to Rose’s pack. She looked more tired than Rose had ever seen her. Janett stood up and pointed the rifle at her as Rose came out of the trees. When Janett recognized her, the girl settled back into a squat near Chal. Major Haley sat against the truck of a shingle oak, the shovel on the ground beside him, his rifle across his lap. He looked up at Rose and gave her a weak smile, but otherwise did not move.

  Rose went down on one knee next to Chal and looked into the girl’s eyes. Chal’s brown eyes were black in the deepening twilight.

  “The call of the river is strong,” Chal whispered.

  Rose gave her a smile. “Looking to go home already?”

  Chal smiled back, but it was a weak smile with more fatigue than amusement. “Not just yet, dear sister. Not just yet.”

  “Over here, Major,” Rose said. “We need to talk.”

  The major groaned, sounding more like an enlisted man than an officer. He used the shovel to pull himself to his feet and came to sit next to Chal.

  Rose described what she had seen of the fort, and drew a map in the dirt. “Normally, I’d say we let Chal be our ticket of safe passage through the natives. Even if they are from further north, they might recognize her and let her pass. But … well, you can see the problem.”

  “How about we sneak along the north edge, between the Italian camp and the river?” Major Haley asked.

  Rose thought for a moment. “The Italians riverboats and barges are probably beached along that bank of the river. I didn’t see them but that only means they kept them back, out of easy range. So there will likely be a number of sentries and patrols along the riverbank, from the boats to the camp.” She paused. “And there’s probably a similar situation along the river to the south.”

  “You said there was a lot of smoke over the battlefield. Was there any river fog?”

  “No,” Rose said. “We’re too far into spring for fog.”

  “But there can be,” Chal said, and smiled.

  * * *

  They held hands again as they walked along the muddy bank of the river. This time, though, they held hands so as not to be separated in the darkness and the thick fog that rolled off the river at Chal’s request. The smell of the river was thick around them, the stench of mud and fish and decaying plants overriding the smells of the battle. Before they set off, Chal had touched each of their foreheads and eyelids, letting them see through the fog, though not completely. Rose estimated they could see about ten yards. The night sky was clear, but the bright stars could not be seen past the fog. Rose led the way, holding Janett’s right hand with her left, her right hand gripping her pistol. Chal walked between Janett and Major Haley. Rose could feel Chal’s fading strength through Janett’s grip. They could all use a good night’s sleep. And probably a day and night after that. Three days running through the bayuk would take its toll even without being pursued.

  The troops attacking the fort had cut the forest away from the riverbank and built some rough piers. Lanterns had been hung along the piers and they glowed dimly in the fog. Pairs of sentries with lanterns walked along the piers. When they met another pair, they would raise their lanterns and exchange greetings and passwords in Italian. These piers and a few boats that had been pulled up on the bank provided additional cover. Rose led them from one to the next, doing her best not splash in the ankle-deep water or lose her moccasins in the mud. Chal was able to keep the major’s and Janett’s steps silent and splashless, but Rose was on her own.

  Each time a pair of sentries came close, Rose gripped her pistol tighter. She did not want to risk a shot. Even if the shot would not be heard by the main body of the force, she had already counted a dozen sentries, and assumed there were more. Their numbers did not worry her, but the sentries were too spread out for her to be able to take care of them all at once. It only took one sentry to raise the alarm.

  The sounds of the battle grew around them. The booming of the cannon had slowed as the fog obscured targets for both sides but neither side had stopped completely. The fog muffled the sounds, making it seem like a dream of a battle. Or a nightmare.

  Rose moved them away from the riverbank as they came around the edge of the forest to the main clearing. They paralleled the north edge of the Italian’s trench line up the hill toward the fort. They could sometimes see soldiers moving through the trenches. As they got closer to the fort, they could hear, then see, grunzers expanding the trenches, using oversized shovels to pile the earth ramparts higher.

  Rose forced herself to relax her grip on her pistol and her muscles, but it was difficult, walking this close to the enemy. She could see the Italians, and hear them talking in low tones between cannon and mortar volleys. More than once she thought soldiers had seen them or heard them. Men had looked toward Rose and the others. But each time, the soldiers had looked away again, unable to penetrate the thick river fog.

  When they reached the outer wall of the fort, Rose led them around to the north side. She hoped that getting into the fort without being shot would prove as easy as getting to the wall without getting shot. She did not expect any English soldiers on top of that wall, but there would be sentries–very jumpy, scared sentries–walking the space between the walls.

  She let go of Janett’s hand and motioned to Major Haley. She watched Janett and Chal both sit down on the packed dirt. Then she and Major Haley climbed the slope of the outer wall. They watched a pair of sentries without lanterns march past, then signaled for Janett and Chal to follow them. Janett struggled with the incline, but Chal steadied her and helped her up. The inside slope of the rampart was steeper and they all slid down it to land in a heap at the bottom of the trough.

  That’s where the sentries found them, a pair coming from each direction. The sentries blew their whistles, the alarm went up and bells rang inside the fort, causing bells and alarms to go o
ff in the trenches below them.

  Rose and Chal stood with their hands up as soldiers appeared over the north wall and pointed their rifles down at them. Janett stood but did not put up her hands. She looked more tired than captive.

  “We are English,” Major Haley said. He did not put his hands up either. He straighten his buffcoat, and tried to knock off some of the mud from his red coat and his gold braid. “I am Major Ian Haley, from Fort Gunter. With me are two scouts and Miss Janett Laxton, the Colonel’s daughter. Take us to Colonel Laxton. At once.”

  The major had to repeat himself several times. First to the sentries. Then to the officer of the watch, who did not come down from the wall but insisted that Major Haley shout up at him. Then again to the same officer of watch, who gave his name as Captain John Keele, when all four of them had come up a ladder dropped for them. Major Haley maintained his bearing as an officer through all this. Rose was certain that the presence of Janett, obviously an English lady even after three days in the swamp, proved more convincing and compelling than the major.

  Rose’s pistol and rifle were taken away, as was Chal’s cavalry rifle. The major’s shovel and rifle, and the old rifle Janett had been carrying, had been left in the trees, so there were no other weapons to confiscate.

  The private who took Rose’s pistol did not notice the strange construction or the runes that flashed on the blackened metal when he grabbed it. She had her 101st Pistoleers badge tucked away in her pack. She heard some comments and snickers about “women scouts”, but no mention of gunwitches or the bitches crew. Colonel Laxton would recognize her, she had no doubt about that, but she had seen no reason to advertise herself to the rest of the Colonel’s command.