by Brom Kearne
24
Court Raleigh’s tent was plusher than Thorn’s own home. Hanging drapes partitioned off the space into different sections, and each of these sections was filled with expensive and luxurious comforts. Thorn entered into the bedroom area, which sported a large circular bed made with satin sheets and lots of big fluffy pillows. Thorn’s body ached for him to lie down in it, if only for a few minutes. But he knew that if he succumbed to that level of comfort it wouldn’t just be a few minutes. He’d sleep for hours, possibly days.
The front of the tent had a sitting area with wicker furniture, and more fluffy pillows, and there was a vanity area near to the bedroom with a large mirror and a ceramic bowl filled with water.
Thorn didn’t have long to admire the décor before Court Raleigh’s entrance forced him to seek cover behind the mound of pillows on the bed. Court Raleigh was followed closely by Melina Bann.
“What in the hell was that?” Court demanded as soon as the two of them were inside.
Melina put her hands on his shoulders, as if to rub them, but he threw her off with a wave of his hand.
“That bounty hunter humiliated me in front of my entire gang. He forced me to kill one of my most trusted servants. All on the eve of our war against the trade caravans.”
“The gang still respects you,” Melina said.
“No they don’t. They don’t fear me as they should. What did you find in the cave?”
“Someone had been in there.”
“I have traitors in my midst. Put a guard at the entrance and keep an eye on anyone acting suspiciously.”
“Already done.”
Court Raleigh stepped out of his boots and lost about a foot of his height. He unzipped his black and amber clothing, and pulled it off. Gone was the tattered grave cloth, and gone was the glowing amber skeleton. Court’s bare chest was flesh and blood. He was covered in tattoos. Almost every inch of him was inked with morbid images of death and suffering which made his skin look like it was writhing in agony. He sat at the vanity and dipped a rag in the bowl and began washing off the glowing amber make-up from his face.
“We’re too close to allow anything to interfere with my plans,” he said as he washed. “The Browning Trade Caravan will be passing through Webster Grove tomorrow evening. Everything must be in place by then. I will have my revenge against them. I want my brother to see everything taken away from him just as it was all taken from me. I want him to watch as his entire family is murdered right in front of him, and then I want to look in his eyes while I strangle the life out of him with my own hands.”
“Sometimes you frighten me and I feel like I’m losing you to your vendetta,” Melina said. She sat down on the edge of the bed, prompting Thorn to pull further back behind the pillows.
Court Raleigh turned to look at her. He had washed away all of the make-up, and Thorn got a clear look at him. He had a shaved head and narrow features. His face was still frightening, even without the make-up, as it was covered in black tattoos to simulate the look of a skull, with deep sockets around the eyes, a detailed jaw line, and teeth tattooed on his lips. His eyes were still amber, but they were not lifeless. They were filled with rage.
“My family betrayed me. They left me to die while they saved my brother, allowing him to grow up in the lap of luxury while I had NOTHING. I used to watch for the circling of vultures just so I could find some rotten, maggot-riddled meat to stay alive, and you don’t think my vendetta is justified?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I want them to feel terror as their death approaches. I want them to feel the same terror that gripped my heart every night when I cried myself to sleep. I want them to quake as Court Raleigh rises from the amber dunes to have his vengeance.”
Court Raleigh was ranting and seething. Melina sat silent for a few moments before she said anything, and when she did she spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. “You do know that you’re not really Court Raleigh, don’t you? Sometimes I’m afraid that you’ve blurred the lines with your real personality and the fake persona. He’s just a folktale to frighten children and the superstitious. Your real name is Paul Browning. That’s the man I fell in love with. You know that, don’t you? And we went through a similar experience, you and I; I was an orphan too. I had to do things to survive that keep me awake at night. This persona you’ve created is nothing more than some yellow cactus flowers ground up with phosphorescing pieces of crystal from the rocks.”
“Do not call me that name,” Court said, and his voice was low and deadly. “This folktale will do more than frighten children. Once we’ve destroyed the Browning Trade Caravan and slaughtered them to the last woman and child, the name of Court Raleigh will strike terror throughout the Free Lands. And for every one of my loyal servants who dies in the fight tomorrow, I will recruit ten times as many as my reputation grows and my revolution swells. We will destroy every single trade caravan and end the grip of their oligarchical rule over us. We’ll be making the world a better place, you and I. Is that not a worthy goal?”
“We’ve both suffered at the hands of the rich and powerful. I want nothing more than to tear them down from their perch over us, but I don’t want to lose you along the way.”
Court Raleigh wrapped his naked, tattooed body in a robe and sat in one of the wicker chairs with his back to Melina. “We’ll leave the camp tomorrow afternoon. We have to time it perfectly, or the trade caravan will be alerted to our presence and will take defensive actions. I’ll have scouts following them and giving you constant updates on their position. Our greatest asset will be surprise.”
“When shall I distribute the guns?”
Court’s mouth ticked. “I want them distributed at the last possible moment. I don’t want my gang members getting any ideas in their heads. I want them backed into a corner where they’re fighting for their lives. We’ll distribute the guns once we’ve taken position in Webster Grove in preparation of the ambush. I’ll have my throne set on the wagon tomorrow and the guns will be distributed directly from me. You’re familiar with the gang members, so pick a few of the most loyal and give them the honor of pulling me. Make a ceremony out of it, a show of great respect so the others have something to aspire to.”
“And the prospective gang members?”
“We won’t have time to induct them into the gang properly. We’ll set them up front as cannon fodder for when the trade caravan begins fighting back. We’ll arm them with spears, and tell them that if any survive they’ll be inducted into the gang as full members. We’ll tell them that this is their trial by strength. But I doubt if any of them will survive. I expect heavy casualties. We’ll sacrifice one of them tomorrow before we leave. We’ll claim he was in the cave snooping around. You said Thorn was looking for one of them? We’ll kill that one. I’ll do it personally. It will help reinstate me as someone to be feared after that debacle tonight.”
“And what of Thorn? The gang is beginning to talk.”
“What are they saying?”
“They know that we’ve been beating the combatants before the fights. They know the whole thing is rigged, and they’re questioning your authority.”
Court Raleigh let out a long slow breath. “You should have just killed him in the desert instead of bringing him here. Len Dietrich made a worthy sacrifice, and his death will have economic repercussions throughout the Free Lands which will aid our cause. But this bounty hunter? He’s a nobody. I think the best thing we can do is walk him in the desert and shoot him. We’ll say he escaped and brand him as a coward. All we have to do is keep everything together until tomorrow night, then most of these people will be dead and we can begin recruiting a new gang.”
“Would you like me to do this for you? To execute Thorn?”
“No. Thorn attacked me personally. I shall enjoy watching the light leave his eyes.”
“He’s dangerous. And crafty. It might be better if you just let me—”
“I have spoken,” Court Raleigh said, his voice
taking that deadly tone again.
“Of course,” Melina responded, bowing her head slightly.
Court grabbed a black hooded cloak hanging on a rack near the entrance and wrapped it around himself. Then he checked a sparker pistol, verifying that it was loaded, before holstering it.
Thorn had to think fast and decide which option was worse: returning to the cage before Court Raleigh could get there, or allowing him to find the cage empty. Thorn had been planning to escape all along, but he wanted to do so later in the night when no one would discover his absence until the morning. He wanted a head start. If Court Raleigh discovered he was missing now, he would lock down the camp and spend the rest of the night scouring the surrounding desert for him. Maybe Thorn could get away, or maybe he couldn’t. The chase would turn into a run for his life, and he wasn’t in the best condition for running right now. It was a gamble that he wasn’t willing to take.
And then there was Scott Tanning to consider. Court Raleigh knew he had value to Thorn, and could easily use him as a hostage to force Thorn to turn himself over.
But Thorn didn’t particularly care for the idea of going back to the cage and sitting there, waiting for Court Raleigh to come and lead him into the desert to be shot. What he needed was a distraction, but he needed to act fast. Court Raleigh and Melina Bann were already outside of the tent.
Thorn ducked back through the slit and was running the long way around. He stopped at the corner, however, when he saw that Court and Melina were taking the circuitous route around the backs of the tents as well. If they were going the long way around, that meant that they didn’t want to be seen, and that gave Thorn an idea.
He went straight through the camp, and on the way passed very close to one of the bonfires. It had burned down from the blazing glory that it had been earlier in the night, but it was still burning enough for his purposes. He pulled his sleeve down over his hand so he could grab one of the flaming pieces of wood without hurting himself too much. He was still wearing the denim jacket that had been provided to him for his cover as a farmer when he had set out from Webster Grove. That felt like a very long time ago.
He snarled as the flaming brand burned through the denim, but he only held it for a second before tossing it into one of the nearby tents. He didn’t care whose tent it was and he didn’t watch it land. He didn’t have time for that.
He finished his sprint to the cage just as Court and Melina were turning in from the outer edge of the camp. Thorn closed the door and attempted to jam the hinge pins back in. The upper pin went in smoothly, but the bottom one gave him some trouble. It was the angle by which he was trying to force it, but he couldn’t reach around to push it in properly; they would see him. He gave it one final push but the pin revolted and fell to the ground. Thorn didn’t have a choice now. He brushed sand over it and leaned back against the bars, pretending to be asleep and trying to keep his chest from heaving after that sprint. He kept one eye cracked to watch their approach.
Court kicked the door to awaken Thorn before having Melina unlock it. Court was wearing a hood pulled up over his head, and she had drawn a black bandana over her mouth and nose at some point during their walk here. Thorn opened his eyes slowly and smirked when he saw her.
“Congratulations on your promotion,” he said. “I did hear there was an opening.”
Thorn held her humorless blue eyes with the intention of diverting her attention from glancing at the pinless bottom hinge, or to the shining pin that was only partially obscured by the sand. To Thorn these two items stood out as glaring proof of his escape from the cage. He breathed a sigh of relief when she swung the door open, obscuring the hinges from her view.
“Get out,” Court demanded.
“What is this about?” Thorn asked without moving.
Court brandished a sparker pistol. His face was mostly obscured by the hood, but Thorn could see the tattooed lips, and they were peeled back in a vicious snarl. “I will shoot you where you sit.”
Thorn swallowed hard and crawled out of the cage. “You could have just said please.”
He stretched when he got to his feet, making a grand show of lifting his arms over his head while he stepped on the loose hinge pin and ground it into the sand.
“These cages are small, you know, and I’m still smarting from the effects of your beating earlier.”
Melina grabbed Thorn by the shoulder and shoved him forward. “Move,” she said.
Thorn began walking, but slowly. He needed to stall so his distraction would have time to manifest, but as he walked he began to entertain the awful idea that he didn’t even know if the flaming piece of wood would be enough to set the tent ablaze and cause a fire panic in the rest of the camp. It could easily have sputtered and gone out the moment he threw it through the tent flaps. Without the distraction of a tent fire he was left with the prospect of fighting for his life. He knew that if he turned to fight he’d be shot instantly, but it was a better prospect than submitting and allowing himself to be shot in the back. If he could go down fighting, he would, although the idea of Melina’s smug face standing over him while he breathed his last was enough to make him burn with rage inside.
“Where are we going?” Thorn asked over his shoulder. His real reason for asking was so he could look back and judge how far away Court and his gun were. They were too far for him to close the distance.
“Walk,” Court ordered.
Thorn was being steered away from the camp and towards the desert. If he couldn’t reach Court by turning and leaping at him, then he had only one option left to him, and that was to find some cover to duck behind. He was running out of options quickly. There was a lean-to with only a back wall sheltering some dune bikes. He could jump and roll behind it, and maybe dodge the sparker shot. The wood was thin, though, and wouldn’t provide much cover. He didn’t have any way of fighting back, however, and knew that such a move would only buy him a little bit of time. But maybe he would surprise Court, and maybe there was a wrench or a piece of timber that he could use as a weapon. On the other hand, Court could be a very good shot and Thorn would be dead before he reached the wall. Either way he didn’t have much choice. The lean-to represented the last piece of possible cover before he reached the wide open expanse of the desert. He closed his fists in anticipation as he had no other choice now.
The argument became moot when someone began shouting from back in the camp. Thorn breathed a heavy sigh of relief and unclenched his fists.
“Hey! Hey! Fire!” the voice shouted.
Court stopped and looked back, keeping the gun pointed at Thorn. “What is going on over there? Melina, go and check it out.”
Melina strode away and returned a moment later. “One of the tents has caught fire. It’s spreading to the others.”
“Take care of it. You, keep walking.”
“Court . . .” Melina said, but she was too late to warn him.
The alarm had been raised and gang members were streaming from their tents. Five of them walked right by Court and Thorn on their way to help put out the fire.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” one of them asked. Thorn recognized him as one of the gang members who had helped him back to his cage earlier.
“Go back to your tents,” Melina ordered.
“There’s a fire,” he answered. “It will take out the whole camp if we don’t stop it.”
He was about to walk away but he paused, looking intently at the man under the hood. “Is that . . . Court Raleigh?”
He peered under the hood and recognized the tattoos decorating Court’s face.
“No,” Melina said and inserted herself between them.
The gang members who were fighting the fire had pulled down the tent, as well as the tents immediately around it, to which the fire had spread, and were shoveling sand onto them. They had pulled out the occupant of the burning tent, and had him sitting nearby recovering from the smoke. He had been passed out when the flames had begun consuming his tent, and w
ould have been killed if not for their intervention.
As the fires were contained and extinguished, more and more of the awakened gang members were becoming aware that something of interest was happening near the outskirts of the camp. Rumor was faster than the night wind as they heard that Court Raleigh was out there, without his make-up. Soon nearly the entire camp had come to see what was going on.
“I thought he was taller,” someone whispered.
“Look at his face, are those tattoos?” someone else whispered.
“Why isn’t he glowing?” someone else asked.
Melina was powerless to hold them back, and her efforts to assert dominance were futile.
Court, realizing that he was doing more harm by remaining hidden, threw off his hood and stood at his full height. He was still a very tall man, coming in at over six feet, but he was nowhere near the giant monstrosity that he had presented to the gang up to this point.
“I am indeed Court Raleigh,” he said. Despite the lack of make-up, he still presented an intimidating visage, and his eyes still glowed amber from the frequent use of the eye drops as he glared around at his gang members. “This man is an enemy of the Amber Bones and he is to be executed. I am glad that you are all here to witness our triumph.”
“This man won his match,” said the gang member who had helped Thorn back to his cage. “According to our own rules, he should be one of us.”
“He is not one of us,” Court hissed.
“And he didn’t even get a fair fight,” someone else said.
“Show us the bruises!” someone shouted.
“He is an intruder. He is a sympathizer with the trade caravans and with the oligarchy that have forced us to live as outcasts. He deserves to die!”
“This isn’t our way,” someone else said, and a general murmur of agreement spread through the gang.
“And I hear you’ve been fixing the fights all along, that none of us earned our spot here,” said the original gang member who had spoken. “It’s not right. Everything we’ve been told is nothing but a pack of lies.”
Court was snarling like an animal backed into a corner. Thorn was afraid that he would start shooting at anyone and everyone in order to regain control. To prevent this from happening, Thorn leveled a finger at him.
“I challenged this man, remember? I challenged him to a fight after I defeated Tom Marron. I think I’m owed that much at least.”
Melina whispered something in Court’s ear. She was looking at Thorn as she spoke quietly and rapidly. She put her hand on Court’s gun arm and slowly got him to lower it. Finally Court slammed the gun into her chest.
“Put him back in his cage,” he hissed. Then he addressed the rest of his gang. “Very well. I shall meet him in battle tomorrow. We will have our fight in the morning before we move into Webster Grove. Then you will all see how weak this man truly is, and you will know the true strength of Court Raleigh.”
“How do we know you won’t just beat him before the fight again?” asked the gang member who had helped Thorn back to his cage earlier, and who had been the most vocal in voicing his displeasure at what was going on.
“Melina, shoot him,” Court ordered.
The gang member’s face went white but Melina did not hesitate. She brought up the sparker pistol and fired into his chest. He crumpled to the ground, leaving a stunned silence in the wake of the sparker’s bark.
“Anyone who questions me or my authority will die,” Court Raleigh said. “Tomorrow we will destroy the Browning Trade Caravan and grind them into dust under our heels. Nothing will stand in my way.”
Court stormed off with his cloak whipping around his ankles.
“You,” Melina said to some prospective members nearby, “dispose of this.”
Scott Tanning was among them but she grabbed his arm and held him back.
“Not you,” she said. “You will be coming with me. The rest of you, get back to your tents. There is nothing further to see here.”
The gang began dispersing, but they did so hesitantly. If not for Melina’s sparker pistol, they might have resisted further. If not for the sparker pistol, they might have overthrown the leadership of the gang right then and there.
Once they were just Melina, Scott, and Thorn standing together, Melina said, “Court wishes to speak with you.”
Scott’s face went white. “With me? What does he want with me?”
Melina glared at him. “Do not question me. Go.”
Scott blinked and looked up at Thorn. Thorn didn’t look back at him. He knew the kid was terrified, and he didn’t want to reassure him with false hope. Thorn knew that Court Raleigh was keeping Scott close so he would have some leverage over him. After a few seconds, Scott obeyed and ran off.
“His fate is in your hands,” she said.
“Whether you kill him now or send him against that trade caravan tomorrow, he’ll be dead either way.”
“I would have allowed you to take him and be gone, you know. The life of one prospective member means nothing to us. In retrospect, that probably would have been the wisest move.”
“I don’t think Court Raleigh would think so. He doesn’t seem to be the type to let things go.”
“Court doesn’t always think clearly when he’s upset.”
“Lucky he has you around, then, isn’t he?”
“And now you have undermined his leadership and authority. You have almost sparked an open mutiny against him. This will not be tolerated.”
“So you’ll have me beaten again before the fight with Court tomorrow? Everyone knows the fights are rigged now. It won’t help you.”
Melina smiled as she motioned him back towards the cages. “Nothing of the sort. You will be made an example of. But you’re right. Now everyone knows the fights are rigged. Tomorrow they will learn exactly how rigged they are. You will be led in chains into the pit with Court Raleigh. He will pull out a concussion rifle and he will kill you. Then everyone will see the consequences of insurrection, and they will obey.”
“What are you going to do with Scott?”
“We haven’t decided yet. He will be beaten and questioned. We might execute him tomorrow as a co-conspirator, or we might keep him as cannon fodder for the trade caravan.”
At the cages they were met by a gang member carrying a sharpened spear. “You wished to see me, ma’am?” he said he they approached.
“Yes, Mark, I did. You’ve been a very loyal member for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I think it’s time that you were rewarded and offered a chance for advancement. Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t try anything foolish, like trying to escape. Do this, and you will receive my recommendation to fill the empty spot vacated by Tom Marron. We’ll see how you look in black, would you like that?”
Mark drew himself up and puffed out his chest importantly. “Absolutely, ma’am.”
“Good boy,” Melina said and patted him on the shoulder. Then she motioned Thorn into the cage with the sparker pistol and locked the door behind him. She winked once he was secure. “See you tomorrow.”
Thorn forced a smile back at her.
Mark’s pride was sufficiently inflated from Melina’s praise and the promise of advancement that he kept a conscientious vigil for a while. But Thorn knew he couldn’t keep this level of vigilance throughout the night. Thorn lay back and pretended to sleep, and after an hour of inactivity Mark began to succumb to the boredom of his post and fell into a light sleep himself.
Thorn quickly but quietly pried out the upper hinge pin. It came much easier than it did before, now that it was accustomed to being removed. Thorn found that what had been a potential disaster turned out to be a blessing, as he didn’t have to remove the lower hinge pin again.
Mark heard the creak of the door as it was pushed open and Thorn was squeezing through. He reached for his spear and managed a partial yell for help before he was cut off by a forearm across his neck. He struggled, but Thor
n had the chokehold locked in and there was nothing further that Mark could do except to succumb. Once Mark was unconscious Thorn dragged him into the cage and jammed the hinge pins back in place.
The first thing Thorn did was creep around the edge of the camp towards the cave. If he could get his hands on a gun it could serve as an equalizer and he could end this whole thing right now. He’d sneak into Court Raleigh’s tent and kill him and Melina as they slept. Thorn didn’t like killing for money, and he had anticipated taking Court Raleigh alive, but right now that was looking like a slimmer and slimmer prospect.
The guard on duty by the cave was less alert than the one that had been guarding Thorn. He had no trouble sneaking past him. He tread carefully, feeling his way and anticipating the trip wire so he could step over it. He reached the opening into the room where the guns had been kept, lit the torch and held it aloft to see . . . nothing. The room was cleared out. The guns had been moved.
Thorn surmised that this was a last-minute decision by Melina Bann to keep them safe. The guard at the entrance was there for show, to make it appear that the guns were still safely tucked away in here. And since they didn’t trust anyone outside of their tiny circle, that meant that the guns were going to be close to Court Raleigh. And that meant that Thorn didn’t have much of a chance of recovering one.
As he replaced and extinguished the torch Thorn thought to himself what his best course of action was now. He thought of stealing one of the bikes and simply riding away. He could go back and warn Webster Grove, accept whatever they were willing to pay him for the information, and then go on back home. The problem was that he didn’t know where the camp was in relation to Webster Grove, and while he could just travel east until he hit the Old Foss, that was a journey that could potentially take over a day. The bigger problem with leaving like that was that Thorn had never backed down from a fight in his life. He didn’t like feeling as though he had been beaten and that his only recourse was to flee.
Thorn needed an alternate plan, and one began to occur to him as he crept out of the cave into the night air.
