Dustfall, Book One - Shadows of a Lost Age

by J. Thorn

  “Leave the chain buried in some leaves and come back for it after the raid. If you spook this camp, I swear I’ll squeeze the life from you.”

  The lieutenant growled and gripped his chains after Gerth released him.

  “Sometimes they set traps out here,” the man said. “I drag the chain across the leaves to trip them.”

  “These are the northern clans,” Gerth said, ignoring his lieutenant’s excuse for risking their position with his clumsy chains, and trying to change the subject. “The women are strong. They will last.”

  A toothy smile creased the lieutenant’s dirt-crusted face. He nodded, his eyes alight with the decadent possibilities. “Can I have two?” he asked. “Mother and daughter?”

  “The flesh feels all the same to me. But if you’d like a mother and daughter, you’re welcome to them. Provided you can rank high enough when the clan splits the spoils.”

  The lieutenant nodded and pointed back to the fire.

  Gerth ran a hand over his head, feeling the seam between the leather mask and the wiry nest of hair protruding from beneath it. He felt the sharp point of the piercing that went through his earlobe and dangled like a spear lodged in a sapling.

  “They’ve been arguing. More than they have in the past. I think there’s been a split.”

  “That’ll make ‘em weak,” said the lieutenant.

  “Only until we attack and they have a common enemy again. C’mon. I want to see if they have young girls. Those always seem to fetch the highest price.”

  Gerth stood again, weaving between trees until the campfire appeared to turn. The light hit the trees with a different angle and now he could see two men around the fire. One appeared to be a man and the other a boy.

  “The young boys fetch the most of all,” the lieutenant said from behind Gerth, as if reading his mind.

  “There are no spoils until we defeat them. Remember that.”

  Gerth ducked and slid to his left, moving a few feet farther from the campfire but sliding out from behind an old oak that concealed the site. He paused and saw that his initial observation was correct. Two men sat at the fire, one old and weak and another young and, as Gerth knew from experience, not so weak. It was the boys on the cusp of manhood who were the most dangerous, regardless of their tribal affiliation.

  “I’ll trade him for the mother-daughter. You can have the women.”

  Gerth smiled at his lieutenant before taking a step to his right. “As long as you don’t make any more fucking noise in these woods, we’ll finish our scouting and be ready to ambush them. Then you’ll get your little boy meat.”

  The lieutenant licked his upper lip and winked at Gerth. He set his chain to the ground as if it were a basket of eggs and used his hands to cover it with leaves.

  “Can we raid that campfire now?”

  “No,” Gerth said. “We don’t know how these clans split or re-aligned. We wait until they get back on the road then we ambush, just like we’ve always done.”

  The lieutenant spat and shook his head. “I want the boy tonight.”

  Gerth turned, his hand moving to the blade secured at his hip. He exhaled into his mask, the leather rattling as he intended. “You challenging me for Chief?” he asked.

  The man put his hand back up to his throat, where Garth had left a red imprint on his neck. He looked to the ground.

  “Good. Now keep your stiffened pole in your pants and obey me.”

  Gerth took another step to his right and the silence of the darkened forest broke. A sharp crack was followed by a whoosh; he saw the old bear trap biting down on his leg before the pain registered in his brain. Tears filled his eyes as the searing heat roared up his leg from the point where the metal teeth tore into his flesh. They punctured his calf in two places, and one was lodged in his knee.

  “Chief.” The word came from the lieutenant’s lips, the single syllable twisted in fear and a smug satisfaction.

  Gerth fell, and his hands gripped the jaws of the trap. He pulled, trying to pry them apart and feeling nothing but the cold metal scraping his bones. He was relieved the trap hadn’t punctured his thigh or an artery. If it had, he’d have been dead in minutes.

  “Pull it apart,” he said to the lieutenant.

  At first, the man placed a hand on each side of the trap. He bent down to secure his grip and, as he was about to pull, he stopped. “I want your word.”

  Gerth closed his eyes and immediately opened them, hoping to fend off the wave of vertigo flooding his system. “What?”

  “I said I want your word. I want the boy. No challenge. No barter. He’s mine.”

  “I can’t,” Gerth said. “You know there is—”

  “I know you will die if I do nothing, and you will suffer and die if I cry out.”

  “You’re dead either way, motherfucker. I will rip your head off.”

  “Not from inside that trap you won’t. I want the boy.”

  Blood ran down Gerth’s leg and pooled in his boot. The initial burn and shock morphed into a dull throb synchronized with his heartbeat. If he didn’t get out of the trap and stitch his leg soon, he would bleed out.

  “On one condition,” Gerth said.

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to put conditions on this deal.”

  Gerth winced, knowing his lieutenant was right. “You will free me. I will make sure you get the boy, and you take this deal to your grave. Otherwise, I’ll close my eyes and die right here, and the others in the clan will challenge you tomorrow. And then you’ll die.”

  The man wrinkled his face and chuckled. “I won’t be much in the mood for talkin’ once I get me a taste of that young boy.”

  The lieutenant yanked the trap open and another round of searing pain flooded through Gerth’s veins. He yanked his leg free and the trap snapped shut. He figured they had only minutes before someone from the camp came out to see what was in the trap. Gerth pulled a strip of fabric from his rucksack and wrapped it around his injured leg.

  “Help me up,” he said to his lieutenant.

  “Of course, my lord. Of course.”

  Gerth wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulder and they headed deeper into the trees while a few members of the Elk Clan picked up their weapons and left the comfort of the campfire to investigate the invisible noises of the forest.

  Chapter 60

  Jonah heard the raised voices even from the campfire. He’d heard several arguments already that night; since the face-off with Gaston there was a lot of troubled people within the Elk, and he wondered just how many of them would leave during the night. He hoped it would not be too many, but he felt helpless. He had said they could go without harm, and now he had to wait with a patience that he didn’t have.

  Gaston, he knew, had moved to an empty patch of ground not far away, and certainly not far enough, as far as Jonah was concerned. But that would be part of the man’s plan, Jonah knew. If he stayed close overnight, and people knew where he was, those just considering leaving with him and the few that had joined him at the campfire would have an easy choice if they were inclined. They would not have far to go. And if they changed their minds? Well, they could probably even sneak back again.

  And the arguments could be heard in tents and at other campfires, even if people tried to keep their voices hushed. No one would want the rest of the clan to know their doubts if they changed their minds and decided to stay.

  He’d also seen some leavers, but so far not many. Maybe half a dozen had shuffled off into the night, carrying their belongings, and at least one cart had been taken. He did wonder if he should stop the cart being dragged away, but knew that it was owned by the person pulling it, and he had not mentioned that they couldn’t take them.

  He couldn’t sleep; didn’t want to. He felt that if he stayed present and visible it may discourage people, but it also meant he got to hear and see everything.

  And this argument, now taking place just outside of the border of the Elk’s campsite, was not being q
uieted. Someone was furious, and they were making that known.

  The voices continued to battle, and Jonah wondered if it would soon turn to blows. So, even though he didn’t want to get involved in disputes possibly between family members, he rose, picked up his axe, and started toward the noise.

  He found the two men arguing around the back of the building at the rear of the Elk’s claimed area, one man holding the other against the crumbling brick wall and almost spitting in his face. He recognized the pair immediately. He’d hoped they would be from the Bluestone, but no, this was Jarken, one of the oldest warriors of the Elk, and a staunch follower of Jonah’s father. The young man pinned against the wall was—of course, Jonah thought—Gann, the son of the warrior who had fallen on the bridge. Jonah knew he was courting, or at least attempting to court, Jarken’s daughter, whose name Jonah couldn’t remember. Alise?

  As Jonah rounded the corner, noting that he was being followed by two other men whom he knew would back him up, Jarken relaxed his grip on the boy and stepped back, a look of guilt crossing his face for a moment.

  “What’s going on?” Jonah asked, staying well back from the pair.

  The boy, Gann, looked to the ground, not able to look Jonah in the eyes.

  “This little bastard wants to leave with that troublemaker,” said Jarken. “And I was just showing him the error of his ways.”

  Jonah looked at the boy. There was a swelling on one cheek, and the young man had a bloodied lip.

  “Is that true?” he asked, but Gann wouldn’t look up. He just nodded and stared at the ground. But Jonah could see hatred and anger burning in his eyes.

  Jonah took a deep breath, not wanting to force the issue but still not wanting anyone who didn’t want to go on to Eliz, and follow the tradition, to stay. The man was young, and should, Jonah thought, stay with the clan, but he couldn’t force people to stay.

  “And he’s been giving Alise a preachin’ and trying to turn her too,” Jarken said, glaring at the boy as though he were ready to rip his face off. And Jonah thought that was exactly what he would do if left to it.

  “Is that so?” Jonah asked. This changed things. Jarken’s daughter was much too young to leave, barely out of childhood. “Look at me, boy,” Jonah said, stepping forward. Gann looked up but found it difficult to maintain eye contact.

  “You could die out there with Gaston,” said Jonah. “Did you think of that? And encouraging a young girl to go as well? She is still a year or two away from coming of age, still a child. How safe do you think she would be? Few people, a small group. And can you trust him? What guarantee of your safety has he offered?”

  But Gann nodded again. “Safer than my father was,” he said, and this time he did look up. Jonah saw a glare he hadn’t expected.

  “You watch your tone,” Jarken said, the anger returning to his voice.

  “Then go,” Jonah said, waving his arm out to indicate the edge of the camp and the direction of Gaston’s area, just a couple of hundred yards away. “Take your things and leave this camp now.”

  Gann looked up, his expression changing from bitterness to fear. “What?” he asked.

  “Go,” said Jonah. “You are no longer Elk and are not welcome in this camp. You will leave immediately.”

  Gann hesitated for a moment, seemingly speechless.

  So young to be striking out alone, Jonah thought. How old was he? Twenty? Nineteen? Not much older. And Jonah realized that the boy was still afraid, still uncertain. But he couldn’t have people who could stir dissent staying in the camp. And if he didn’t resolve the problem quickly, Jarken would kill the boy anyway.

  “Go,” Jonah said. “And that is a command. Fetch your belongings and leave this camp. Do not return.”

  “What of Alise?” Gann asked.

  “She will not go with you.” Jarken cursed. “I won’t allow it.” Jarken turned to Jonah. “Tell him she can’t go. She is too young, not of age.”

  Jonah nodded. “She will stay. She is too young to go out on her own.” He didn’t like the dejected look that crossed the young man’s face, and he hated that he had been the cause of it. He tried to imagine his own reaction, had this been forced upon him, and decided it was best forgotten. “And you are a fool for following a stranger into a strange land.”

  Jonah turned and walked away, noticing as he did that Jarken was grinning at the boy, and a chill ran down his spine. He knew Jarken followed his father, Judas, for many years, and was one of his stronger warriors. He was definitely loyal but, just like with some of the older men, there was a coldness about him that Jonah didn’t like.

  As he headed back to the camp, he wondered if he would have preferred the younger man, Gann, to stay, and Jarken to leave, and knew that was the truth. It was the wrong ones that were going. The younger clan members.

  Chapter 61

  “You must do something.”

  Jonah stared into Sasha’s eyes, now glistening with reluctant tears. She shook her head and waved her hands as she spoke.

  “The young warriors are strong, and we will need them to get to Eliz.”

  “I know,” Jonah said, keeping his voice low and measured. “But I cannot force them to follow me. If they want to go with Gaston, I cannot stop them.”

  “But you are the chief of the Elk. They must obey you.”

  Jonah shook his head, thinking about his father and Nera. They would never have allowed this to happen. Those who wanted to leave would now be dead.

  “Do you remember our first summer together in Eliz?”

  The question, and the tone of his wife’s voice, made Jonah turn. He gazed at her, the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

  “Of course,” Jonah said. “It gave us our first child.”

  “Don’t you think the young warriors deserve the same? Shouldn’t they have the opportunity to find their partner and begin their life?”

  Jonah put an arm around Sasha and pulled her to his chest. She looked up and he planted a soft kiss on her lips.

  “I want nothing less for them,” he whispered. “But Gaston has changed that. He has brought doubt to the less faithful, and that is tearing our clan apart. I had to send him away—and those who wished to follow him. It was either that or kill them all.”

  “What would Judas have done?”

  He pushed Sasha away and growled. The night wind shook the tent as if it shared his frustration. “I am not my father.”

  “That much is clear.”

  Jonah’s lips twisted, and he opened his mouth to reply, but the words would not come. He shook his head, trying to hide the hurt caused by Sasha’s remark.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, recognizing the pain inflicted upon her husband. “What I meant is that maybe you should take a hard line in this situation, like Judas would have.”

  “I know your intent, my love. But I no more want to force people to Eliz than I want to tame the wild wolves. They will do what they will do. Both our people and the beasts of the forest.”

  “What of Seren?” Sasha asked. “What will you do about her? We all but fostered the girl as a second, and her brother is banished.”

  Jonah recognized the shift in his wife’s attitude. It wasn’t personal. She feared what they all feared. What if Gaston was right? What if White Citadel was everything he claimed it to be? What kind of leader would allow his people to continue on The Walk when the answer was clearly written in another book?

  “She is old enough to decide for herself. We need her eye and her bow, but if she decides to follow Gaston, there is nothing to be done about it.”

  “Is she? She is not of age,” said Sasha. “Do you think she will go with Roke?”

  “Only she can answer that question,” said Jonah. “I imagine that Roke would follow his sister, but I don’t know if she will follow him.”

  “You are like a father to her. You’ve given so much. Don’t discount that so quickly.”

  Jonah pulled the flap of the tent back and gazed upon the c
amp. A dull glow rose from the horizon, the soft light heralding the arrival of another day. He turned to the west, where the stars remained fixed above the horizon. For a brief moment, Jonah wondered if the sky looked different above White Citadel. He let the flap fall and turned to Sasha. “Stoke the fire and heat the water. The day is about to break.”

  “So this is how it will be. The Elk will split, and we will go our separate ways.”

  “That is not my call to make, Sasha. Some will follow Gaston but I believe most will follow me. Our book has kept us alive for generations. It would be foolish to stray from its teachings.”

  “Gaston has a book too,” Sasha said.

  Jonah grabbed his axe and stepped from the tent and into the most important morning of his life.

  Chapter 62

  Blood.

  It was the only physical connection left in the world. No matter what happened, or how humans aligned with others, family was their only tether. Allegiances shifted. Clans split, merged and dissolved, but blood relatives did not. Seren knew in her gut that she could not leave Roke to go off by himself. They would argue, she would threaten and bluff, but in the end she would not abandon her brother. They had nothing but each other.

  Jonah gave her special treatment. She knew that and cherished it. He gave her a responsibility in the Elk that many of the young warriors would have fought for. And that was what made her decision to follow Gaston so difficult. Roke would follow the stranger and his book, and she had to stick with her sibling.

  “What are you doing?”

  Seren looked at her brother, his rucksack tied and strapped to his back. He kept an axe on his belt, leaving both hands free.

  He is nothing but a child. The barbarian hordes will kill for him.