Jonathan Haymaker

by Sam Ferguson

  Jonathan’s heart sank. He saw the three men from the day before, huddled over a fire. The smell of coffee and meat wafted on the smoke over to Jonathan’s nose. The boy’s stomach growled.

  “Go on then, we have to eat quickly and then be off,” the man holding Jonathan’s arm said. Jonathan turned to look at the bald-headed man and then stumbled toward the fire.

  Jonathan saw a small tin cup filled with black coffee sitting next to a plate of freshly roasted meat. “Is this for me?” Jonathan asked.

  The archer nodded.

  Jonathan bent down and took the food. The coffee was far too hot to drink, so he set it back on the ground and went for the meat. There were no seasonings on the food, but he was used to that already. He had been eating rabbit plain for days now. As he chewed the meat, the juices ran over his tongue and down his throat, fully wakening his stomach. He ravaged the rest of the meat and then went down for the coffee. Before he could reach the cup, the swordsman grabbed it and drank it.

  Jonathan stopped and stared at the man.

  “That’s for embarrassing me yesterday,” the swordsman said as he tossed the empty cup away.

  Jonathan knew the liquid was scalding hot, and so he took comfort in the fact that it must have hurt the man to tease him by stealing it, even if the swordsman didn’t show it.

  The archer reached over and slapped Jonathan on the shoulder as he got up to walk toward the horses. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

  The third man from the previous day just looked down at Jonathan, curling his upper lip into a snarl and emitting a growling noise as he walked away.

  The new man nudged Jonathan to follow them. “Go on, now. You have a long patrol ahead of you.”

  Jonathan turned around and looked at the bald man. “You aren’t coming?” he asked.

  The soldier shook his head and frowned. “Me? No, I am the cook.” The bald man pointed to the fire emphatically. “I make food, and the soldiers kill things. Now go on, they have a horse ready for you.”

  A horse? Jonathan turned to see a fourth horse standing near the archer, who was already mounted on his horse. The three men glared at Jonathan expectantly. Jonathan reluctantly ran toward the horse. He mounted the steed and then realized that he didn’t have his bow or his pack.

  “Wait, I need to get my bow,” Jonathan said. He hopped down, ignoring the curses and snarls the men shot his direction. He sprinted for the tent, only to see Captain Burke emerge holding Jonathan’s bow and quiver. Jonathan stopped two feet from colliding into Burke and took the weapons with a nod of thanks.

  “They’re waiting,” Burke said tersely. “Go on.”

  Jonathan ran back to the horse, holding his bow in his left hand and his quiver in his right hand. He stopped and stared at the horse for just a second before realizing he would need his hands free to mount the horse again. He slung his things over his shoulders, careful to situate them just the way he liked, and then he jumped onto the horse.

  “Ready yet, or did you want to go back and fix your hair?” the archer asked.

  Jonathan looked down, averting his eyes from the angry man’s and said, “I’m ready.”

  “We are going to have a fun day with you,” the swordsman whispered as he nudged his horse into a trot.

  Jonathan looked back to the camp, hoping that perhaps this was all some sort of a ruse, a mean prank to make him want to go back home. He saw Captain Burke standing with his arms folded across his chest and his cold eyes staring directly at Jonathan. In a quick flash of his arm, he pointed for Jonathan to follow the others.

  A sinking feeling pulled Jonathan’s heart into his stomach and his insides twisted into a knot of dread. His horse began moving. He turned back around to see that the archer was pulling on the reins to Jonathan’s horse.

  “Ever ride a horse before?” the archer asked.

  Jonathan nodded, not wanting to tell him that the last time had been more than five years before, and he only did it during a summer festival celebration. The archer tossed the reins to Jonathan.

  “Try to keep up,” he commanded. The three men kicked their horses into a gallop. Jonathan watched them speed away. He looked down and kicked his horse. The animal didn’t respond. He kicked a bit harder, but the horse still didn’t speed up. It trotted along after the others, but refused to obey Jonathan’s command.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Jonathan told the horse.

  Suddenly one of the men let out a sharp whistle. Jonathan’s horse broke into a raging gallop that nearly threw him from the saddle. He tightened his grip and hunkered low into the saddle as the horse ran over the hills and caught up with the group.

  They galloped for a couple miles before slowing the horses down to a quick trot. Jonathan would have thought that slowing down would be easier to handle, but now he found himself posting up and down as the horse clip-clopped along the ground. Luckily, the group slowed down even from this to a medium speed walk, which was much easier for Jonathan to control.

  “Our job is to watch out for bandits, right?” Jonathan asked.

  No one answered him. They just wound their way eastward, scouting the hilly area far beyond the road. Jonathan learned quickly that he was only there because Burke had ordered it. None of them were happy about the situation, least of all Jonathan. He glanced to the south several times, calculating whether he could make a break for it.

  Would these three even care if he left?

  He knew they would. Oh, they might not care about him, but if he tried to escape, it would give them the opportunity and the excuse to hunt him down and drag him back to Burke. Jonathan looked to the swordsman and his stomach churned. There was no way Jonathan wanted to give that man a reason to beat on him.

  The first day passed agonizingly slowly. As the sun began to set, the four of them dismounted and made a fire. The archer brought out a pack and pulled some dried meat out. The other two did the same.

  Jonathan didn’t have a pack. His was back at the camp. He watched with hungry eyes as the others ate without offering him anything. Finally, when they had finished and they moved back to their horses, Jonathan rose up and went to his horse.

  “Are we headed back to camp?” Jonathan asked.

  “Camp?” The archer turned around and looked at Jonathan with narrowed eyes. He pointed off to the west. “The camp has been taken down and Captain Burke and the others have begun their patrol of the road again. Their camp is now fifty or sixty miles farther away than it was when we woke today.”

  The swordsman cut in. “We don’t join with them until two days from now. We are the far scouts, it’s our job to look for dangers that the short range scouts wouldn’t normally see along their patrol of the road.”

  “Three days?” Jonathan repeated breathlessly. “But, I don’t even have any food. No one gave me a pack or anything. What am I supposed to do for three days?”

  The archer shrugged. “You have a bow and a knife. I suggest you use them to find food.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Fine, I’ll go now.”

  “The sun is going down, you won’t likely find any game before dark. How will you bring it back to us?”

  “What do you mean how will I bring it back to you?” Jonathan asked. “You all have food in your packs.”

  The swordsman moved in close and snarled as he leaned in. The dark stubble only helped accentuate the evil sneer widening across his mouth. “You’ll do as you’re told, like all recruits do. You are here to fetch food. Not my problem if Burke didn’t tell you that.” The swordsman grabbed Jonathan by the shirt and tossed him onto his rump a few feet away. Jonathan landed hard, barely able to soften the fall with his hands, and not enough to keep his tailbone from screaming in sharp pain. “Get on out of here, then, if you think you can hunt at dusk.” The swordsman flared his arm out to the south. “Go on, fetch me a deer.”

  Jonathan rose to his feet, careful to avert his gaze away from the man so he wouldn’t notice that his eyes were watering from the pain
in his rump. He grabbed his bow and set out on foot.

  “Be back before the moon rises half way, or else we’ll come after you,” one of the men called out.

  Jonathan waved with a single flap of his left hand out above his head, but he didn’t turn around or answer the men. After he walked over a pair of hills he glanced over his shoulder to see if he had dropped out of their line of sight. Then he looked to the east. The moon was two fingers’ span above the horizon. He knew he would have several hours before the moon would rise to its apex.

  He broke into a jog, fast enough to put a significant distance between himself and the men, but slow enough so as not to stumble in the darkening twilight. Even with the three of them looking for him, he figured there was little chance they would be able to find him as long as he made good use of his time. If Captain Burke was heading toward Rynder, then Jonathan would go south by southwest, hopefully keeping his distance away from the large patrol and the three men scouting with him now.

  He knew the geography well enough to know that if he came to the borders of the Murkle Quags, he could then hook to the east and follow the border all the way until he found Fort Sym. Rynder was situated more than a hundred miles north of the quags, so if Jonathan was careful, he would never see Captain Burke again.

  His stomach growled in protest, whining and grumbling for something to eat, but the young man pushed that out of his mind. He could hunt after he was certain the three scouts couldn’t find him. It would set him back in terms of time, but if he could keep them off of his trail until they returned to Burke, then he should be clear of them enough to travel freely.

  At that moment, his mind thought of his field pack. He had other supplies in there that he would need if he was to complete his journey.

  Jonathan slowed to a stop and looked back in the direction he came.

  “Now what?” he asked himself. He kicked at the dirt in frustration and spun around, surveying the darkening expanse around him. The fiery pinks and oranges were fading into shadows now, and more and more the moon became the primary source of light.

  No, Jonathan was right to escape. Perhaps he could procure supplies at Fort Sym. His right hand instinctively brushed his pocket from the outside of his pants. The cloth folded flat against his leg, reminding him that he had no money with which to buy anything. His attention was caught by a quick movement off to his left.

  There, in a clover patch jumped a large hare. Jonathan smiled. He didn’t need money, he remembered. He would hunt for meat and then sell the furs when he arrived at town. Surely there would be demand for pelts at a bustling fort.

  That settled it. He ran off into the night. As the moon rose ever higher, he put miles between himself and the three scouts. He didn’t stop to rest until he came to a large copse of oak trees nestled together and surrounded by a thick patch of briars.

  Jonathan waded into the thorny vines, picking his way carefully and slowly so as not to prick or cut himself. He guessed the plant was either a blackberry or raspberry bush, but there was no way to be certain without the fruit. He moved in until he found a break in the prickly vines and was able to curl up against the base of an oak tree. He thought about climbing the tree, but knew that he would have more success hiding in the thick bushes, not to mention that it would be much safer to sleep on the ground rather than risk falling out of a tree.

  He curled up and closed his eyes.

  The sounds of the grassland seemed to amplify in his ears the more quiet and still he became. Crickets chirped loudly. Grasses whispered in the midnight breeze, and sounds of wings beating the sky above were occasionally loud enough for him to hear.

  As his mind started to let go of the noises and slip into the nebulous void of sleep, something snapped on the ground. Jonathan’s eyes shot open and he held his breath.

  Another snap sounded from somewhere beyond the trees. That sound was quickly followed by a rustling sound. Jonathan felt his heart stop as he realized something was pulling at the thick screen of thorny vines.

  “Is he in there?” a familiar voice groused from Jonathan’s right.

  “Dunno, I can’t see a bloody thing,” another man answered from the left.

  Jonathan knew instantly that it was the three scouts. How had they found him? He must have traveled twelve miles or so since escaping from their camp. It seemed impossible that they could have come straight to him.

  “Well?” the swordsman shouted from beyond the thorns. “Are you in there kid?”

  Silence ensued for several seconds.

  Jonathan heard a clicking sound. Click-click-click. A flash of orange flickered nearby and then died out. Jonathan realized that someone was using a tinder set.

  “Let’s smoke him out,” one of the men said. “I bet these vines will burn nice and bright. If he is in there, and he wants to pretend like he ain’t, then let the fire scare the truth out of him.

  Click-click-click. Another flash of orange.

  Jonathan pulled his arms and legs in tight. They wouldn’t burn down a bunch of trees and bushes just to find him, would they? They had to be bluffing.

  Click-click-click. Another flash, but this one didn’t die down. It faded and then turned bright yellow. Streaks of thin, thorny shadows played upon the tree trunk in front of Jonathan.

  The men weren’t bluffing.

  Jonathan shot up from the ground. “I fell asleep!” he shouted. “I couldn’t find my way back so I came here and tried to find shelter.”

  The swordsman stomped out the few flames that had sprouted up and then started laughing. “Not only does he think we’re blind, but stupid as well!”

  Jonathan spun to his left as the thorny bushes rustled ferociously. In the pale moonlight he saw the archer, grim faced and frowning. A large hand reached out and grabbed Jonathan by the nape of the neck. The archer shoved him out from the small clearing and into the thorns on the opposite side.

  “Aaya!” Jonathan cried out as he squirmed and jumped through the sharp bushes. The archer moved in quick, grabbing Jonathan again and tossing him clear of the thorns and to the ground beyond. Jonathan thumped to the ground and his breath flew out of him. He coughed and pushed himself up to his feet.

  It was then that he noticed the archer had his bow. The archer tossed the weapon to the swordsman. “He doesn’t need this anymore,” the archer said.

  The swordsman snatched the weapon out of the air and chuckled aloud. “Pity to waste another one,” he said.

  “Break it,” the archer said. “We can’t trust him with it.”

  Jonathan winced as the bow creaked and snapped into pieces. The swordsman tossed them down onto the ground, laughing all the while.

  “Some scout you turned out to be,” the archer chided. “We followed you this whole time, and you never once caught sight of us, did you boy?”

  Jonathan sighed and his shoulders slumped. Of course they had followed him. They were testing him. “Just let me go,” Jonathan pleaded. “All I want is to find my brother.”

  “Ha, and miss the chance to put you in the stockades?” the swordsman scoffed. “Not a chance!” He stormed up to Jonathan and seized both of the boy’s shoulders. “I am going to love seeing them throw tomatoes at your ugly little face.”

  The archer stepped in. “You embarrassed us pretty good in front of the others,” he said. “It’s only proper that we show you the same courtesy.”

  “So this is what Burke wanted all along?” Jonathan asked.

  “No,” a third voice called out from a few yards away.

  Jonathan turned to see the shadowy forms of a man and four horses approaching. It was the third scout. How could Jonathan not have noticed them? They were on horseback and he still had never caught a hint that he was being followed.

  “Burke wanted us to show you what war was like, so we could talk you out of your idiotic quest,” the archer said.

  “I say we let him go. He won’t survive in the Quags anyway,” the swordsman put in. “Just let him walk away.�
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  “You broke my bow,” Jonathan said. “At least have the decency to give me a weapon.”

  “Give you a weapon?” the swordsman teased. “I don’t think so. You’re lucky I extinguished the fire.”

  Jonathan didn’t doubt the man’s sincerity.

  “He’s right,” the archer said. “He should have a weapon.”

  “He ain't getting mine,” the swordsman said quickly. “Give him yours if you want, but not mine.”

  The swordsman let go of Jonathan, pushing him a couple inches away and snarling.

  The archer held out a short sword, handle pointed toward Jonathan. “There is a bow not far from here. If you want a bow badly enough, I will tell you how to get it.”

  Jonathan looked at the dark figure in front of him. The silvery light of the moon only illuminated the top of the archer’s head, as the face was darkened by shadow. “Why would you help me now?” Jonathan asked.

  “Because you will never be able to reach it. No one can.”

  “You aren’t talking about Kigabané are you?” the third scout cut in. “No one can—”

  The swordsman backhanded the third scout in the stomach. “Shush!”

  The archer placed a hand on Jonathan’s left shoulder as he pushed the short sword closer to the young boy. “Take this, in case you need it. Travel due east of here. Have you ever heard of the Kigyo?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “What is that?”

  The swordsman sniggered in the distance, but the archer showed no sign of emotion, other than contempt for Jonathan. “It is a land filled with dangerous snakes,” he said. “There is a bow there that once belonged to a very powerful warrior. He lost the bow, and no one has been able to find it since. If you can find it, not only will you get to keep the bow, but we will give you the fourth horse so you can travel to Fort Sym.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “You are lying. There is no such bow is there?”

  “Oh no, there is a bow,” the archer assured him. “It’s there alright.”

  “Well how long has it been there?” Jonathan asked. “It’s likely warped or rotten by now if it is just lying outside.”