by Avell Kro
“We were told there would be more,” said a young man with short, blond hair and blue eyes,
wearing an officer’s uniform. He looked down his nose at the sailor with condescension.
“Wel , all they gave me was two,” the captain replied and handed the officer his cargo list.
“Humph.” The Dutch office turned to the nearest soldier. “Put them in irons and take them to the
fort.”
Mikel looked at Harry as four soldiers approached them with restraints that would be fastened to
their ankles and wrists. Harry growled and leapt towards the young officer, who obviously
expected it. He stepped to the side at the last moment and used Harry’s momentum to push him
into the two soldiers behind. They immediately rained blows down on Harry’s back.
As soon as Harry went down, Mikel reacted. He lunged towards the rapier at the officer’s hip,
grabbing the hilt and pulling the young man off balance. The slender blade pulled free and Mikel
spun to point it at the officer. He found himself looking into the barrel of a small pistol.
“These are only accurate at close range,” the officer said with a sneer. “I’m very certain I’ll not
miss.”
Mikel glared at the man’s arrogant blue eyes but dropped the sword. Two more soldiers
approached him and roughly pulled his hands behind his back. He felt the cool metal wrap around
his wrists and grimaced. The irons on his ankles connected with a short chain that only allowed
limited movement.
They shackled the semi-conscious Harry and hauled him to his feet. Mikel smirked as two soldiers
were forced to hold the weight of his large friend.
Mikel looked back at the ship’s captain as they marched away from the dock. His expression bore
the signs of guilt and sadness. He nodded at Mikel, then turned back to his waiting crew.
~~~~~~~~~~
“That didn’t work out the way we planned,” Harry said. “At least they didn’t bruise my face.” He
groaned as he lowered himself onto the pile of straw that served as his bed. “I’ve finally got my eye
lashes back. The ladies won’t see the bruises on my back, but they wouldn’t miss a black eye or
swollen lip.”
Mikel shook his head and smiled. “Our current situation doesn’t bode well for the company of
ladies, my friend.”
“No, but I don’t intend to stay here forever. If we are to serve as fodder in their infantry, then they
will have to let us out at some point.”
“True,” Mikel replied. “But that’s only if they allow us to serve in their military. They may decide to
leave us here to rot.”
“I hope not.” Harry wrinkled his nose. “The food they give us isn’t fit for pigs.”
Hol ow footsteps interrupted their conversation and they both rose to their feet. Their cell was
dark and damp, as expected. The wooden walls plunged deep into the dirt floor and the thick door
displayed the only window in the room, but it was barred.
A soldier’s face appeared behind the bars. He glared at the prisoners.
“Tomorrow, you will march with the next platoon headed north. You’ll remain shackled and under
guard each night, so remove all thoughts of escape from your mind.”
“Why not just leave us here if you don’t intend to let us fight with your army?” Mikel asked.
“I would have you executed rather than waste our food and water,” he replied. “But our
commander would use you in other ways.”
He disappeared from Mikel’s view and they listened to his footsteps retreat back down the hall.
“What is that about?” Harry asked.
“I have no idea, but I assume we’ll find out.”
Chapter 11
Raphael
The captain paced in front of his soldiers who stood at attention in the morning formation. The
thick dew that was typical in this part of the jungle, hung heavy in the air. Raphael’s uniform was
nearly soaked from that and the sweat that rolled down his skin. His arm no longer required a
sling and the cuts on his back had scabbed over. He stood in the middle of the formation listening
to their captain.
“We’ve sent three scouts south this week and none have returned.” The captain continued pacing.
“I need you to follow their path and discover their fate.”
“Yes, Sir!” the group bellowed as one.
“With the new Dutch fort only a day away, we have to assume they are responsible.” He stopped
pacing and turned to look at his men. “Be ready to leave in an hour. Dismissed.”
The men saluted their captain and disbursed.
“What do you think happened to the other scouts?” the soldier next to Raphael asked as they
walked back towards the barracks.
“I’m not sure, Tinoco,” Raphael replied. “The Dutch must know we’re here. It would make sense
that they’ve captured our scouts.”
Tinoco nodded in agreement, but Raphael could see his doubt.
“You didn’t get caught, Lopez, and you were discovered right next to their camp.”
“I suppose I got lucky,” Raphael replied. “I’m not looking forward to a confrontation with the Dutch,
but we can’t let this go unanswered.”
“I know,” Tinoco replied, stepping into the barracks and heading towards his bunk to pack.
Tinoco was one of a dozen new recruits and had only been in camp for a few weeks. Raphael was
certain he had not yet seen combat and their recent conversation seemed to confirm it. While
some of the new recruits were anxious to prove themselves, one or two allowed fear to be their
dominate emotion. Raphael hoped Tinoco wouldn’t succumb to that fear when the fighting started.
He was sure there would be fighting.
Twenty-five men marched out of the fort and into the dense jungle. Their formation broke apart
quickly as the path narrowed, allowing only two or three men to walk side-by-side. Their
lieutenant walked through the line and approached Raphael.
“I need you to scout ahead of us and let me know if you see any signs of the Dutch army.”
“Yes, sir!” Raphael replied.
He skirted around the marching soldiers and sprinted south. When he was well ahead of them and
could no longer hear sounds of their march, he slowed down and moved away from the path. The
jungle was quiet, which was very unusual. The absence of screeching birds and buzzing insects
unnerved him. He cautiously moved forward, working his way through the underbrush that ran
next to the trail. When he reached a low limb, he swung himself into the tree and surveyed the land
around him.
He remained crouched on the branch for several minutes, before he heard the brush of leaves
against metal, then a loud snap. He strained his ears as the jungle fell silent once again. At the edge
of his line of sight, several large leaves folded towards the ground, revealing a man with blond hair,
dressed in brown leathers with a sword belt wrapped around his waist.
Clearly not an effective scout. Raphael thought to himself. The long sword alone makes it impossible to move quietly.
He continued to watch the man struggle through the underbrush, knowing he would stumble into
the Portuguese army within the next hour or so. Raphael waited for the man to pass out of sight
before dropping from the tree and continuing south.
He traveled for another thirty minutes before he heard soldiers marching ahead him. He crept
through the thick foliage,
his own attire barely brushing against the thick leaves and vines. He
kept his weapons secured beneath his vest to avoid the difficulties the enemy scout experienced.
The sound of voices reached his ears and he quickly climbed into a nearby tree. The jungle made it
difficult to see the approaching army, but they appeared much like his own. Uniformed men, with
muskets slung over their shoulders, walked in pairs along the narrow trail. Raphael couldn’t see the
end of the line. He weighed his options.
Should I keep moving south and risk getting caught? Or should I return and report their location?
He decided to return to his commander and report their location. By the time he reached his
platoon, the enemy would be almost upon them. There was a small clearing at the halfway mark.
They might be able to be reach it before engaging the Dutch.
He slid down the tree and crept back towards his comrades. As soon as he was out of sight of the
enemy, he returned to the trail and broke into a sprint.
Chapter 12
Raphael
Raphael reached his platoon just as they arrived near the small clearing.
“Lieutenant,” Raphael called out while gasping for breath. “The enemy will reach us in less than an
hour.”
He struggled to remain upright, trying to regain his composure after sprinting most of the way
back.
“Do you know how many?” the lieutenant asked, raising his hand to call the column to a halt.
“I do not,” Raphael replied leaning over with his hands on his knees.
“Tel me everything, then find a place to rest.”
Raphael stood up straight and relayed his discovery of the Dutch army. The lieutenant called for
the other officers who gathered on the side of the trail. Raphael accepted a canteen of water from
a fel ow soldier and collapsed against a nearby tree.
“It looks like we’ll be fighting the Dutch before the days over,” Tinoco said as he sat down next to
Raphael.
“Yes, it does,” Raphael replied.
“I’m ready,” he said with determination. “They cannot be allowed to capture and possibly torture
our fellow soldiers.”
Raphael looked over at the young man. Determination had replaced some of his fear, but his
fidgeting hands exposed his nervousness.
“You’re right. Their actions have to have consequences.”
The lieutenant’s commanding voice interrupted their conversation.
“Pass along the word,” he ordered. “We’re moving into the nearby clearing to prepare an offensive.
We mustassume their scout reported our location. They will expect to meet us in the only area
suitable for combat.”
Raphael groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and fol owed his fellow soldiers off the path. The
clearing was larger than he first realized, with a small rise in the center. The lieutenant led them to
the farthest side of the clearing, until the grassy rise concealed their entire group.
The temperature in the clearing rose considerably with no shade from the nearby trees. The
soldiers quickly retreated into the forest, trying to find shelter from the sweltering sun.
Tinoco found Raphael again, resting in a low hanging branch.
“One of the other scouts said the Dutch will be here before sunset,” Tinoco called up to him. “The
lieutenant wants us in formation in thirty minutes.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “He also asked
me to tell you to report to him as soon as I found you.”
Raphael looked down at the young man and tried to smile.
“You’ll be fine, Tinoco,” he said as he jumped down from his perch. “Follow orders and stay with
your group. More importantly, remember your training.” He rested his hand on the soldier’s
shoulder. “You’re a soldier in the King’s army. Make him proud and fight for what you believe.”
Tinoco smiled and Raphael left to find his commanding officer.
“I’ve sent another scout to circle the eastern side of the clearing,” the lieutenant said when Raphael
found him. “I’d like you to go around the west side. I expect you to see them first, since your route
will be closest to the road.” The officer looked at the sun and squinted. “The enemy should arrive
just as the sun is setting. I’d like to know their numbers before we attack. Don’t engage any of their
scouts if you can avoid it.”
“Yes, sir,” Raphael replied. “I’ll replenish my supplies and head out immediately.”
“Be careful, soldier.”
Raphael strapped his pack to his back and checked his numerous small daggers hidden beneath
his vest. Once satisfied, he melted into the trees and headed southwest around the edge of the
clearing.
Chapter 13
Mikel
Mikel pushed aside another large leaf impeding his path and felt his sword catch on a reaching
vine.
I wish I were back in England. He thought. How did I end up in the wretched jungle, battling against the foliage and insects large enough to swallow me whole? He scoffed and continued his silent dialog
as he tripped on a massive root protruding from ground. If I survive this, I’ll find those traitorous
bastards who sent me here.
The Dutch army was still on the road, headed towards the clearing Mikel had seen earlier. The
officers determined it would be the best place to engage the Portuguese who were headed their
way. Mikel broke free of the trees and shielded his eyes from the sun. The grassy expanse opened
before him and a small breeze lifted his hair. The Portuguese army were nowhere in sight.
“I didn’t think we’d beat them,” he said softly.
He leaned against the nearest tree and took a long drink of warm water. He knew he needed to
report back to the Dutch officers, but he held no allegiance to them. The only thing keeping him
from running was Harry. The Dutch forced his friend to join with the infantry, mostly due to his
size. He knew that Harry endured taunts and insults from soldiers daily. Mikel wouldn’t leave his
friend, and the officers knew it.
He rested for another few minutes then turned back towards the road to give his report to the
approaching soldiers.
“The clearing is just ahead,” Mikel said as he approached one of the commanders. “The field was
empty when I arrived.”
“Did you scout around the perimeter to ensure they’re not waiting to ambush us?” the
commander asked, his thick, dark eyebrows meeting each other with his scowl.
“No, I did not,” Mikel replied. “I’m not trained as a scout. If you wanted that information, you
should have sent one of your own.” He glared at the commanding officer with defiance.
“I did send one of my own, and he did not return.” He gave Mikel a scathing look. “Yet here you are.
Give me your sword!”
Mikel clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then unbuckled his sword belt and handed it over.
“You believe I killed your scout?” he asked, watching the commander inspect his clean blade. “What
would that accomplish?”
Mikel had never killed a man and had no intention of changing that now.
“It’s more likely that you turned him over to the enemy,” the commander spat, but didn’t return
Mikel’s sword.
“I ask again, why send me, if you don’t trust me?”
Before Mikel could react, a large hand collided with the side of his face, sending him sprawling into
; the dirt.
“You will not question me,” the commander growled and walked away. “Keep the column moving!”
he bellowed. “I want to reach the clearing before sunset.”
Mikel stood, brushing the dirt and leaves from his pants. His face burned from the open-handed
slap meant to embarrass him. He looked around at the hostile faces with contempt. He would find
a way to leave these heathens, taking Harry with him.
He pushed through the line of soldiers and found his friend at the back of the group.
“Why must you goad him?” Harry asked as the two of them fell to the back of the line.
“They’re not keeping us around because they like us,” Mikel replied. “They have a use for us and
I’m certain we won’t enjoy it.”
“The other infantrymen have been talking,” Harry whispered. “I pretend that I don’t understand the
language, which makes them speak more freely.”
Mikel gave him a questioning look.
“Their scouts have been disappearing, men who they claim are so good at what they do, they never
get caught.” Harry lowered his voice further and moved closer. “One of the scouts returned last
night, barely alive. He said he was attacked by demons and narrowly escaped with his life.”
Mikel’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “And the commander believed him?”
“Yes, he didn’t even blink at the news, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d heard the story.”
The two men walked in silence for several minutes. Mikel watched the Dutch soldiers around him
and noticed their nervousness. Their eyes constantly moved from one side of the path to other.
Several twitched when an exotic bird’s squall broke the jungle’s silence.
“Have they always been this nervous, Harry?” Mikel asked.
“Not until the last couple days,” he replied. “The injured scout’s arrival turned their nervousness
into paranoia.”
“I need to focus my attention,” Mikel said, berating himself out loud. “We could use this as a means
to escape.” Mikel turned to look at his friend and noticed his uncomfortable expression. “You
believe his tale, Harry? Do you really think he was attacked by a demon and not some large, jungle
cat?”
“I don’t know, Mikel. Some of these men have been here for a year or more. They know the
