“I need you up and ready to fight!” she pleaded, shaking him. Caleb was not a small man and wasn’t intimidated by other human beings, but he saw in Zeller a battle partner, fierce, not to be denied. The fisherman gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the sword. He used the weapon as a crutch to help him stand. There was no time for bandages, but the numbweed had slowed the bleeding.
Caleb and Zeller stood back to back, swords ready to fend off arrows, at least as much as they could. The men positioned themselves in a semi-circle around the wagon, keeping their distance from the armed Free Trader and her companion.
“We could kill you where you stand. Walk away and live,” the man attempted to negotiate. Zeller was furious. She’d heard stories about raiders on the trade routes, but chalked that up to desperate people and bad traders. She never believed such highwaymen existed, because she hoped she wouldn’t have to fight. On the journey she’d taken with Braden and Micah to Warren Deep, she’d seen ambushers and men who freely took from others. It grated on her soul, but killing them was even worse. She wasn’t Micah and didn’t find it easy to end another’s life, even if they asked for it, or maybe even demanded it by the evil of their actions.
She realized that she had no choice. Those men could not be allowed to interfere with trade. She hadn’t asked for the violence, but it came anyway. She wrapped her mind around the thought and became one with Micah and why she did what she did.
There and then, Zeller couldn’t allow thievery, not in the south, where her friends had fought a war to make sure that trade flowed from east to west and north to south.
“No,” Zeller said icily, barely above a whisper, flexing her knees as she prepared to fight. Caleb hopped on one leg, keeping weight off his injured leg, even though it no longer hurt. It felt like a dead stump.
The men seemed confused. It was a big step from raider to killer. They watched the Free Trader, understanding from the look in her eyes that she had already taken lives and was capable of taking more. The leader of the band loosed an arrow at her.
With a flick of her wrist, she deflected it, then lunged forward a step. The leader flinched and fell backwards. She laughed at him.
‘I’m coming,’ Arnie told her in his thought voice.
“Shoot her, you idiots!” the raider yelled while sitting on the ground. The others drew their bowstrings more tightly as their leader scrambled to his feet. “SHOOT!” he screamed maniacally, the sound of his voice disappearing in the approach of pounding Aurochs hooves. One man inadvertently let go, sending his arrow arcing high overhead and into the distance. Another turned and released an arrow toward the charging bull. He was amazed that he missed, but turned to run, too late as Arnie bowled him over.
The Aurochs angled sharply toward the second man, who stood dumbfounded. He held up his hands weakly as Arnie ran him down and continued running in a tight circle around the wagon.
When the men noticed the approaching bull, Zeller sprinted forward, observed only by the leader whose attention was pulled in two directions. He didn’t have an arrow nocked for a second shot, so he futilely swung his bow at Zeller. She cleaved the man nearly in two as his bow slapped harmlessly against her outstretched arm. She turned to face the remaining raider, checking her balance as she arced her blade through the air before her.
The man was aiming and then released. The arrow flew past her and into Arnie’s shoulder as he completed his turn. He snorted through the pain and thundered past her as the man threw down his bow and put his hands up. The Aurochs didn’t recognize the gesture. Even if he had, he probably couldn’t have slowed his stampede. The man tried to dodge at the last heartbeat, but Arnie was a big animal and ran him down, finally slowing.
Zeller ran after the bull, begging him to stop so she could tend his wound.
Caleb limped to the last man that Arnie had knocked down. The man was alive, but playing dead. The fisherman used the tip of his sword to send the bow a few strides away. Caleb kept his distance, in case the man tried something. With the tip of his sword, Caleb probed the man’s back.
“Turn over now. Let’s have a look at you,” Caleb told the face-down, would-be raider. The man groaned as he rolled over, holding a clearly broken arm. “Where are you from and how many more of you are there?”
“River Crook,” the man panted. Zeller made a fist, and her lips were white from clenching her jaw. She walked, with the Aurochs close behind, toward Caleb and the other. The arrow in Arnie’s shoulder had already been removed, and numbweed had been packed into the small hole.
“There are good people in River Crook,” she exclaimed, barely controlling her fury. “All these people come from there?” She didn’t recognize them as she looked from one to the next. She’d never seen their leader before.
“No. They came through nearly a moon ago, with promises of a better life. I was tired of digging in the fields,” the man gasped, struggling with the pain of his broken arm. It didn’t help that Caleb kept prodding the raider with his sword point.
“You shot Arnie,” Zeller said when she returned from checking the men, taking their weapons and pouches. She took the injured man’s items, too, without any concern for his injury. “I should kill you right here.”
Caleb looked harshly at her, and she bowed her head, then walked away to repair the straps on the wagon. She was also upset that the repairs would take product that was destined for trade. Caleb watched her go about her business, readying the wagon so they could continue their journey.
Zeller said they could still reach River Crook by nightfall off-handedly while she worked.
“Let me help you into the wagon,” Caleb offered, waiting for the man to agree, before offering an arm. “If you try anything, I will simply kill you and leave your body for the vultures with the rest of these vermin.”
The man nodded. “Darius. They call me Darius, and I surrender. I’ll take my punishment.” Darius looked at Caleb’s arm, but didn’t climb into the wagon.
Caleb knew Darius wasn’t going to attempt an escape. He’d made a mistake by joining the others. At least he’d survived to see another day, but his fear grew with each heartbeat. His arm was useless, and he needed River Crook to take him back if he was to heal. He started apologizing to Caleb and Zeller, even Arnie, sobbing as he did so.
Zeller was unconvinced by his remorse. She joined Caleb and Darius at the back of the wagon. She stopped them both and told Caleb to hold the man. He started flailing, thinking she was going to kill him, even though she dismissed his fear with a shake of her head.
“I’m not going to kill you,” she said calmly. He wasn’t reassured as Caleb wrapped two strong hands around the man’s elbows as Zeller seized Darius’s wrist in hers. He howled at the pain from his broken arm.
“Wait! Do you hear that?” Zeller waited for the man to stop screaming, then nodded over his shoulder. When he turned to look, she yanked his wrist straight out, using her body weight to stretch the arm’s muscles and tendons, pulling the bones past each other before letting them snap back into place. The man collapsed, taking the one-legged Caleb with him as he went to the ground.
Caleb pushed the man from him and glared at the Free Trader. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she helped him to his feet. The arrow wounds on his leg continued to leak. She packed numbweed in, then gathered more of her precious cargo, the Amazonian rope, to tie a bandage around Caleb’s leg and a splint around the young raider’s arm.
“We can’t leave them because other traders come through here. It just wouldn’t do to have dead bodies lying around.” She reluctantly agreed and methodically dragged them one by one to a dip away from the road. The leader was messy, so she dragged him by his feet, leaving a trail of blood and guts behind her. She tumbled the remainder of his body into the depression. She threw a few rocks on top of the men, declared it good, and returned to the wagon.
Caleb was leaning heavily against it, drinking water from a flask. Arnie had pulled the wagon around the blockade and forwar
d until he was standing knee deep in the stream, also drinking his fill. Caleb limped around the wagon and stood upstream of Arnie to refill the flask before offering it to the injured young man.
Zeller wanted to kick the raider. Arnie was injured and so was Caleb, Micah’s father. It wasn’t her fault that it happened, but there was a certain fire in that family that gave her pause. “You know, this wasn’t my fault?” she probed.
Caleb started to laugh, understanding the full reasoning behind Zeller’s question. “I’ll tell Micah and Mattie that it was my own fault for being old and slow and that you saved me!” The young man saw no humor in any of it. As the pain in his arm ebbed, he was more solemn and even angry, maybe with himself, but the Free Trader didn’t know and didn’t care.
“Get in the wagon,” she ordered the raider. Caleb helped the young man in and pointed to where he should sit. The older man climbed in after him.
“This could go easier on you if you cast aside your evil ways and return to the fold of the righteous,” Caleb intoned, feigning the speech of a preacher, although he’d only ever seen one of those in his life and that was a long time ago. The reference was lost on the young man and fear gripped him anew. “We’re not going to hurt you. Do you know of any other people like that, raiding the trade route?”
The young man shook his head.
“Well, Darius, I’m pleased to meet you,” the fisherman said more gently, seeing the other’s demeanor lighten as he submitted to his fate.
“I think I’m pleased to meet you, but not sure what my future holds,” he said resignedly.
“Your future is much brighter now than it was just a little while ago. You know that Braden and Micah wouldn’t allow thievery to go on for very long and you’re probably lucky that it wasn’t them who happened across your lot. You and your former associates would have all been killed before you stepped from cover, after your minds were scoured for every bit of information you had so any other raiders could be rooted out and destroyed. Now that you are living on borrowed time, tell us what you know.”
Darius had already surrendered. He was pliable. “Like I said, I only joined them a little while ago, and although they talked of the big hauls, I didn’t see anything. We scavenged off the land. You were the first target that we saw since I joined.”
Caleb thought as much, figuring the young man had no luck. The fisherman looked to his fellow villager from Trent, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“Fine! I’ll see if Tom can use an assistant” Zeller replied before asking Arnie to pick up the pace. She was tired of being on the road, even more so because of the attack.
“That’s settled. We won’t mention your role as a raider as long as you promise us that you will steer clear of thieving, and if you hear of anyone thinking that this is a good career choice, you need to let the Elders know so that it can be stopped before anyone else gets hurt. If you lie, Arnie will know. He’s probably already been through your mind…” Caleb knew that Arnie wasn’t able to read minds like a Hillcat could. The Aurochs was able to talk with the human he was joined with and that was it, but Darius didn’t know that.
“I will, honestly, I will. You know that, don’t you, Arnie?” the man pleaded.
Caleb raised his eyebrows and looked suspiciously at the younger man.
“Maybe we should drop you off right here. How long do you think you’ll survive with a broken arm?” Caleb taunted.
“I’ll work hard, I promise. It sucks out here!” Darius looked down and started to cry. The big fisherman had his answer. And if they needed further confirmation, one of the recently arrived Hillcats that had bonded with Tom could and probably would check. Barely more than a kitten, he could still look into the man’s mind and see if he was being honest. Caleb was satisfied with that and the fact that Zeller would tell Tom the truth of how Darius came to be his new apprentice.
An apprentice blacksmith with a broken arm? That would be a tough sell, but who better than Free Trader Zeller to make the pitch?
River Crook
Young Tom knew Zeller was coming because his bonded Hillcat told him. Neeson was large, even for a Hillcat, but that had made him overconfident. He’d tangled with a cold-water croc and come out on the losing end. His back leg had been injured and now the ‘cat walked with a severe limp. Neeson could no longer run fast enough to catch most prey and although he could still climb trees, he had trouble getting down. His activity level was low and he was starting to get fat, but Young Tom kept him close and took good care of his new best friend.
When the wagon rolled into the burgeoning village, Tom was there, ready to lift his mate down and carry her home, but Zeller stopped him with a half-smile.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, thinking it was something he’d done. He, like Braden, had partnered with a strong woman from Trent, one who ensured that no one person dominated the relationship. Women from Trent were quick to express their dismay, and equally quick to express their appreciation. Tom liked it all and knew how empty life could be without it.
“We have company. Micah’s dad is with me, and he’s been injured.” Tom bellowed for someone and an old man hobbled into the town’s main square carrying a large pouch. “And Arnie’s been injured, too.” Tom lifted Zeller down so she could show him, all thoughts of an injured human taking second place to his mate’s Aurochs partner.
The numbweed had done its job and the wound had scabbed over, and Arnie told them that he felt fine. Tom waved the old man toward the back of the wagon while he and Zeller held each other, absentmindedly stroking Arnie’s nose as he nuzzled them back.
Caleb had dropped the wagon’s gate and was sitting with his legs dangling. Behind him, Darius cowered, fearful of facing the villagers from River Crook.
The old man ignored everything except the two arrow wounds in Caleb’s leg. The healer produced a small knife and cut the pants leg, exposing the two swollen, purplish holes. He used a rough plant to scrub the wounds.
Caleb howled in pain, squeezing the side of the wagon hard enough that he threatened to snap the material. Zeller and Tom joined him to provide moral support as the old man continued his ministrations. He poured water, scrubbed some more, and then finished cleaning. He held numbweed on the wounds until he heard the big fisherman’s sigh of relief, then the old man sewed the holes closed. He patted additional numbweed on the sutures, then nodded once, packed his things, and walked away.
“I guess I’ll be fine,” the fisherman said with a brief smile. “Hi. I’m Caleb.” He held out his hand, and the blacksmith took it, they shook, heartily as two big men did. The large ‘cat worked his way between Zeller and Tom, looking up at the fisherman.
“Well, hello! Who’s this pretty kitty?” Caleb said, extending his ongoing battle of wills with the Hillcats.
‘Humans are so droll,’ the ‘cat replied over the mindlink. ‘The stupid one trying to hide is afraid. He will do as he’s told.’ With that, Neeson strutted away, as much as his injured leg allowed.
The big fisherman grunted as Tom helped him from the wagon. “Come on, Darius. We have our confirmation that you weren’t lying to us. Now, go forth and do no evil,” Caleb said without looking at the young man.
“Hold on there,” Zeller started. “Come with us, you have work to do while I get reacquainted with my man.” Zeller crooked a finger at Darius. He crawled from the wagon, standing with his head bowed.
“They call you Darius,” Tom told him. “You were here recently. How did you come to be in the company of such shady Free Traders?” he asked, earning himself a punch in the stomach from his partner.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone with them,” was all Darius said.
“Raiders,” Zeller added, clenching her jaw, instantly angry at the thought.
“So, that’s what brings you back? I don’t see the others.” Tom looked to Zeller. She drew one finger across her throat, then held up three more. “We won’t talk about that. No one else needs to know. You now have a new
life as my apprentice. I hope you don’t mind hard work.” The blacksmith slapped the smaller man on the back, hard enough almost to knock him down. Tom and Zeller walked arm in arm toward the forge. Caleb limped after them with Darius holding his head high as he helped the fisherman.
Less than seven turns later, Zeller and Arnie made a quick trip to Westerly and the hills overlooking White Beach to deliver Caleb and the fishing equipment. Even though he was not completely healed, he told them that the sooner he got started, the sooner he’d be able to go home to Mattie.
The Beach
A large man cast into the surf of the Western Ocean, trying for Caleb’s approval, the master fisherman, come all the way from the eastern shore to teach the newcomers how to harvest the sea’s bounty.
“If you only had boats, we could do some real fishing, but this’ll do. For now, anyway,” the older fisherman told the man casting. “Let out more line.” The coiled heavy fishing line lay at the man’s feet. He pulled a handful and fed it through the eyes of his pole toward the ocean.
The line was yanked across his fingers, leaving a deep gash. He almost dropped the pole.
“There you go! Wrap the line around the stop and hold on. Your first fish looks like it’s going to be a whopper!” Caleb exclaimed. They’d been fishing for two days and had donated a great deal of bait to the underwater denizens, but had yet to bring one ashore.
The transplant from the village of Westerly, on the plains east of White Beach, did his best to maintain his composure as he struggled with the pole. At times during the battle, he thought the fish was winning as it pulled him toward the surf.
“I better get the gaff. We don’t want to lose this one. C’mon, let him know who’s in charge! Drag that slimy beast in here and let me jab this iron hook through his gills. Come on, now, pull him in!” Caleb encouraged the new fisherman as he tried to position himself in the surf, but not too deep, just in case their fish turned out to be a shark. He continued to guide the man, who worked his way back and forth along the beach while he continued to wrestle with the pole. Caleb grimaced as the salt water stung the arrow wounds in his leg. They were healing, but he was still miffed at how much they hurt.
Free Trader Box Set - Books 4-6: Battle for the Amazon, Free the North!, Free Trader on the High Seas Page 45
