“Something wrong, Loic?” asked Darrach.
Loic blinked the rain from his eyes and looked around at the silent forest.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
Behind them, the convoy had arrived. Four horsemen dismounted, one of them carrying a large bunch of keys. The prisoners looked around, desperation in their faces. Alize began to sob once more until a Collector cracked his sword against the cage bars and told her to keep quiet. Emil drew her knees to her chest. There was no way of breaking open the chains. The wagon stank of sweat and urine. She was soaked. She glanced through the bars at the overgrown forest, towering trees with great branches reaching toward the sky, unburdened. She fancied climbing one and reaching for the clouds to float away from this world once and for all. She wondered what had happened to Stone. Crossing the desert, after Tomas had been killed, he had sworn to keep her safe, to protect her, to keep away the men who would abuse her gift to heal, who would attempt to use her, the way he had shamefully tried to. That was in the past, she had reminded him, understanding the hatred he had carried for a lifetime. She accepted who he was and what he was but she wondered why he had abandoned her. And he had abandoned her. He was nowhere and she felt the walls of her life beginning to cave in.
“William, what’s going on?”
One of the six prisoners - William - craned his neck to look along the road. He saw the Collectors talking with a small group of masked men.
“I don’t know. I thought it took a long time to get to Tamnica. That’s what I heard.”
Four of the prisoners were from Agen and wore yellow ribbons; the two men, a woman and a child. The child looked the same age as Lena. Her face was pasty white, deep brown eyes rimmed with tears, thick black eyebrows that met in the middle. The smell of urine was coming from her. The woman had her arm around her and was whispering words of comfort but her breath was wasted. Emil could see the child was numb with shock, frozen in time, unable to scrape a meaning into what had happened. Today would have begun like any other day for her. She would have woken and emptied her bladder, lit a fire, heated up water and bathed, slipped on her dress and nibbled on a small breakfast before taking her place in the line, waiting for this tiresome and adult tradition to pass, if the other villages adopted a similar ritual to Dessan, and Emil assumed they did, and then it had happened, a ribbon had been tied to her elbow, and her life had ended and she was still there, locked in that incomprehensible moment.
“What’s Tamnica?” she asked, wiping rainwater from her eye.
“A place,” said William, looking her over. “Far from here.”
“Have you been there?”
“Have I been there?” choked William. “What kind of stupid fucking question is that? Shut up, child.”
“Don’t be so hard on her, William,” said the woman. “Ignore him. I’m Louise. What’s your …?”
“Silence, you shits,” roared one of the Collectors, clattering his sword along the bars. Darrach glanced back at the wagons and then turned to Loic once more.
“No one?” he said.
Loic spat on the ground.
“Left every one for dead. Took all our canisters. That’s some serious energy, you understand?”
“Interesting,” said Darrach. “Someone stupid enough to kill Tamnicans and Maizans.”
“Need to watch your step going back to Tamnica,” said Loic, shuffling on the spot. “We lost four people, two vehicles, a chest of tablets. Dangerous fucks roaming in these woods.”
Darrach reached into his saddle bag for an apple and bit into it. It made a loud crunch.
“Let’s see what you got,” said Loic, gesturing with his pistol.
The clan Warlord walked him to the wagons where his men had lined up Emil, Alize and the woman from Agen, Louise. Loic grinned at the two women and nodded. Then his eyes fell on Emil.
“What the fuck is that supposed to be?” he said, looking her up and down. “Nobody gonna want a thing like that.”
“She’s nice and young,” said one of the Collectors, squeezing Emil. “She smells clean.”
“I’ll take that one,” said Loic, pointing his pistol through the bars at the young girl who reminded Emil of Lena.
“No children,” said Darrach, chewing his apple. “These are the three. Unless you want one of the men?”
The Collector’s laughed and Darrach walked back to his horse, offering the rest of his apple to her. Loic signalled to the truck. One of the Maizans climbed out and opened up the back. He took out a wooden box and set it down on the road next to Darrach, prising the lid open with a blade. Darrach crouched and saw bullets. He nodded. The three women were marched along the road.
“Thing I don’t get,” said Loic, wandering back, soaked through. “How the fuck did they know? The robbery, you understand? We meet with the Tamnicans once every thirty days, something like that. We need that black energy, you understand? How did they know it was happening? The robbers, you understand?”
Darrach was silent for a moment. The heavy rain drilled down on them.
“You have something you want to say, Loic?”
“Nope, not me. Just wanna get this exchange done and get the fuck away from here, you understand?”
“Oh, I understand,” said Darrach. “You think because we travel this road a lot that we had something to do with this robbery?”
Loic shrugged. He tugged at his crotch. The gun bobbed around in his hand.
“You think the Collectors took your canisters?”
He stroked his horse’s mane.
“I don’t know if you noticed, Loic, but look, I ride a horse and horses, well, they don’t need black fucking energy.”
Darrach’s men began to laugh and Loic felt his pale skin turn crimson. He saw a few smirks from his own men.
“Where would I put it? In her mouth?” He stamped to the rear of his horse, patted her soaking wet rump and lifted her tail. As he did so, the horse deposited a heap on the road, with a loud splatter, and Loic grimaced at the smell. “Does it go in here?”
He whipped out his long sword and raised the blade at Loic. Loic’s men stopped smirking and sprang to life, pointing weapons.
“Don’t ever accuse the Collectors of something we haven’t done,” said Darrach. “Do you understand, you little prick?”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck, okay,” said Loic, holding up his hands as Darrach suddenly glanced at the trees, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t …”
There was the crack of a rifle and Darrach felt the bullet whistle past his head. It drilled through Loic’s hand, spraying blood and bone. He screamed and collapsed onto his knees.
Stone fired a second shot, the bullet slamming into one of the masked men. The women screamed and he saw Emil shout at them and lead them into the undergrowth. Stone moved, sprinting through the trees, stopped, and fired twice more, one shot wild, the second glancing off the head of a Collector. He moved again. The plan was two shots and move. He saw Darrach hurl himself behind the car as another Collector was struck and fell from his horse, clutching his bleeding neck. The driver of the car, a thin man wearing a scarf, climbed out and raked the forest with automatic fire, a hail of bullets spraying the undergrowth. Chunks of sodden bark exploded. Stone threw himself against the soil and crawled through the mud as the bullets pinged over him.
Breathing heavy, Stone grabbed one of the six crossbows he had taken from Dessan’s armoury, the guards subdued, bound and gagged. He aimed and fired. The bolt hissed from the trees and thudded into the gunman’s eye. The man screamed, fell backward, finger still jerking at the trigger.
Darrach barked orders at his men. Four of his riders pressed into the trees on horseback, drawing rifles.
The ground was drenched and the horses moved slowly. The men began firing off loose shots.
Stone sprinted further along the roadside, picking up another loaded crossbow and firing immediately, taking down Loic this time, the bolt piercing his shoulder. He discarded
the crossbow and jogged further through the trees. He cracked off two more shots from his rifle, one bullet smacking against a horse, the second shattering the cheekbone of a Collector. He moved again and fired another crossbow. His plan was to intimate a larger force was attacking them, striking hard and fast, creating chaos, and it was working, but he knew the Collectors were experienced and hardened mercenaries and the ruse would not fool them for too long. He needed to kill as many as possible before it was exposed.
Stone saw the horsemen picking through the trees, firing in his direction. The wet ground sloped and dipped and he had chosen his spot for an ambush well. One of the horses reared up and refused to go any further. The Collector sprang from the saddle and fired his rifle. Stone swerved through the trees, heart thumping. Now they had seen him. Bullets tore at the soil. He fired off the last crossbow, hitting nothing. He pressed his back against a tree; rifle in hand, ammunition running low. There were shouts from the road and he glimpsed a Collector drag Emil and the two other women from hiding. He was waving his sword at them.
Stone rolled from the tree, looked down the barrel of his rifle and squeezed the trigger. The bullet stung one of the horsemen in the shoulder but the Collector stayed in his saddle and returned fire. Stone threw himself into the brush as bullets flew past him. He took up a new position, knelt and fired, drilling the bullet into the Collector’s head, unseating him from his horse. Another Collector came forward on foot, firing, and a bullet narrowly missed his head. Stone’s rifle was empty and he used the stock to club the man in the face. He heard Emil scream and knew he had to get to the road.
He crashed through a tangle of trees, branches whipping at him, flying bullets and shouting men behind him.
He emerged past the convoy and the parked vehicles. Drawing his revolver he fired, splintering the leg of a Collector, dropping him to the road.
The man howled and crawled beneath one of the wagons, a long trail of blood smeared on the wet road.
Stone saw Emil, collapsed over a Collector, a sword in her hand, the blade deep in the man’s stomach.
“It’s just one man,” yelled Darrach.
He grabbed Loic’s pistol and began to fire at the tall man in the long coat, watching him move deftly across the road. He hadn’t seen anyone else and there was no one firing crossbows at them now.
Two bearded Collector’s charged through the undergrowth and burst onto the road, wildly hacking at Stone with swords. He fired twice, killing both instantly. A horse thundered toward him, the heavy beast pounding along the hard road. He hurled himself onto the verge, the rider slashing at him with a long axe. Stone grimaced, his arm burned. The blade had ripped through his coat and shirt, cutting a deep groove into his flesh. He kept running, toward the van, firing his revolver until it clicked empty.
His arm throbbed and bled as he ran. The horseback axe man was surging toward him and he fled from the road, back into the trees. Branches whacked and tore at his face. He kept running toward Emil. She was so close now. She hadn’t moved. He heard an agonised cry and saw a Collector sprawl against the road, a spear lodged in his back. What? He burst from the tree line, leaping onto a Collector and driving a blade into the man’s groin. Emil looked up at him and he grabbed the chains. He saw another Collector fall, peppered with crossbow bolts. Surely not?
Holding onto her chains, they ran for the trees and ducked down, panting. Stone quickly reloaded his revolver, his arm numb.
He kissed her head and pushed her down into the dirt.
Stone emerged onto the road, dripping blood, revolver in his right hand. Darrach was on his horse and charged at him, swinging his long sword. Stone fired, the bullet missing. He squeezed the trigger again and drew a spray of blood from the horse. The huge sword swept above him as he rolled clear. Darrach turned and charged at him again and then a spear whistled past Stone and plunged into Darrach’s horse. Stone saw Mallon. He could hear the clash of steel in the trees.
He gave the man a short nod as Darrach’s sword clattered the ground in front of him. A gloved fist, heavy and studded, crashed into Stone’s face. He grimaced with pain and lost balance. He brought up his revolver but Darrach kicked it from his grasp and then dragged his boot against Stone’s ankles, dropping him onto the road. Stone felt the hard surface slam into his back and knock the wind from him. The sword clanged inches from his head. He dived for his revolver but Darrach feinted with his sword and then kicked him hard, sending him sprawling.
Stone picked himself up, groggy and bleeding, and ran at Darrach, making himself an easy target for the man to hack him down. The sword cut in an arc but Stone swerved at the last moment and dived for the fallen horse, still whining and bleeding.
He yanked free the bloodied spear but as he drew back his throwing arm he saw a surviving Collector thunder toward him on horseback. The rider thrust out an arm and swept Darrach onto the horse. Stone hurled the spear at them, missing, as they galloped along the road.
He scooped up his revolver and walked slowly along the road. Loic was crumpled beside his car, gasping, his hand a bloody mess, a crossbow bolt lodged in his shoulder.
Stone shot him and went toward the wagons.
A Collector ran from the woods, Conrad chasing him. The man stopped and swung at Conrad, who easily blocked the sword thrust, then drove his blade into the man’s chest and twisted it. He yanked the sword free and turned to Stone, his dark hair loose and wild, his shirt covered with blood. He was panting heavily. Stone turned his attention back to the wagons as a shot rang out. He saw Nuria shoot the locks from the cages and free the prisoners. They set about breaking the chains and the villagers stood on the road, uncertain at what to do. Mallon looked around and began to call for Emil, his voice becoming increasingly loud and desperate. Stone tapped him on the shoulder and turned him round as she stepped from the trees. Stone saw the look in the young man’s eyes as he sprinted across the road and threw his arms around her.
There was movement in the trees and Stone raised his revolver, lowering it almost immediately as he saw the narrow figure of Justine, holding a crossbow.
He couldn’t have been happier.
Stone dragged the only surviving Collector from beneath the wagon, bleeding from a leg wound. His arm felt better now that Emil had healed it. He tied the man against the wheel as Mallon freed the horses and offered them to the villagers from Le Sen and Agen. Filled with gratitude, they swiftly rode away. He instructed his own people to gather weapons and return to Dessan with the wagons.
“My father will be furious,” said Conrad.
“It is done,” said Justine. “Now we wait for the rest of them to come.”
“We’re not waiting,” said Mallon, clenching his fist and slamming it into his open hand. “We go back and train every man and woman to use a weapon. Every one becomes the militia. We finish the wall and learn to defend ourselves. No more Centon. No more levy.”
“You stupid fuck,” laughed the Collector.
Stone punched the man hard. He took the Collector’s sword and slashed him across the chest.
The man howled, spat at Stone. Rain lashed his body.
“It doesn’t matter what you tell me,” said Stone. “I’m going to kill you but if you tell what I want to know you get a choice - bullet to the head or torture.”
He put the tip of the sword against the man’s groin.
“I’ve been tortured before, you don’t scare me, you shit.”
“Then you know what’s coming,” said Stone, and head butted him. “Where do you take them?”
“You get nothing from me. You’re a fucking dead man. You’re all fucking dead. Darrach will return with the clan and we’ll slaughter Dessan.”
Stone cracked the hilt of the sword across the man’s nose, breaking the bone.
“We’ll kill every one,” he shouting, grimacing with pain. “We’ll make the men fucking watch when we ...”
Emil felt her skin crawl and walked away, certain that it was only a matter of tim
e before Stone obtained his answers, but not wishing to witness it. The road stretched for miles, horses trotting about lost, wagons and vehicles at angles, villagers stripping bodies of weapons and supplies. She heard the Collector scream again and she wanted to clamp her ears with her hands but suddenly Mallon’s arm was around her and she turned and kissed him and he held her and she cried into his chest and didn’t care who saw her. Nuria saw a pensive looking Conrad standing beneath a tree, out of the rain, a bloodstained sword in his hand. She walked to him.
“That’s all I know,” gasped the man tied to the wagon, his body a bloodied mess. “Please, no more, you fucking animal.”
Smeared with blood, Stone raised his revolver and fired once. The man’s head erupted.
“Well?” said Conrad. “Is dinner ready?”
Nuria couldn’t help herself and chuckled.
“Thank you,” said Emil, looking at them all.
The response was one of nods and muted grunts as they stood in the pouring rain.
“Tamnica,” said Stone. “That’s where they take the prisoners. The Collectors are based outside. A small settlement in the forest.”
“How far is it?” asked Mallon.
Stone pointed his sword in the direction Darrach had ridden.
“About five days on horse. Not by car though.”
Mallon raised his eyebrows.
“Can you drive one of those?”
Stone nodded.
“Let’s finish this,” he said.
“I’m coming with you,” said Justine. “Don’t even attempt to argue with me. You are not choosing who helps you.”
“Me too,” said Nuria.
“Well, I’ve been banished,” grinned Conrad. “So that makes four of us.”
As the boot of the car was filled with weapons, ammunition and all the remaining food and water, Stone sought out a moment with Emil. She waited for him to say something but he offered her no words and simply placed his hand against her soaking wet copper coloured hair and stroked it.
The Wasteland Soldier, Book 2, Escape From Tamnica (TWS) Page 10
