Clash of Men

by Damon Glatz

  Ohitekah had run into the center of a plainsmen tribal war party.

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Welcome Home

  At first the tribe was just as startled as Ohitekah was, staring at this sudden intruder who had burst into their midst. They raised their bows as a reaction to their surprise. They spoke to each other excitedly in their tribe’s language. Ohitekah did not know their specific tongue, only a few words sounded close to what he knew since each tribe had their own dialect. This one was particularly hard to understand. He did not know what to do; Red and the rest were still far behind him. After a moment of their arguing, a war chief rode forward.

  He spoke a few words in his own language, but Ohitekah shook his head to show he did not understand.

  “What tribe are you from?” the chief said in the common tongue.

  Ohitekah knew this was a tricky question. His tribe was allied with some tribes, and enemies with others. Giving away his tribe without knowing what tribe he was up against first could turn the situation much worse.

  “I am on my vision quest,” Ohitekah said, hoping the war chief would respect that fact and leave him alone.

  The chief looked him over. “You lie. No tribe would give you a horse for your quest, and you are too old.”

  This man was bad at judging age apparently. Ohitekah agreed though that he had way more supplies than a normal quest would warrant.

  “What is your tribe?” the war chief repeated.

  Ohitekah looked for clues, and he glanced at the horses, they were painted red, ready for battle. Some of the men had scalps, as if they had just fought and defeated another tribe. Ohitekah hoped it wasn’t his.

  He decided to tell the truth. “Qaokte tribe.”

  Without saying a word, the tribesman drew his bow. Bolt reared into the air in a panic and Ohitekah fumbled to draw his weapon.

  The chief fired his arrow straight at Ohitekah’s face. Before he could even brace for the pain, another arrow was fired and hit the chief’s mid-air, deflecting it. Red rode out of the forest. Leaping over the brush, he fired a second shot in between the eyes of the war chief. The tribe went wild, starting to chant and scream loudly. They all drew their weapons, bows and war clubs. Lance and Nicholas rode out of the forest, drawing their swords. Ohitekah drew his bow, ready to fight this time, ready to prove himself to his new friends, to Red. The men rushed forward at the group, swinging their clubs. Bolt backed up and Ohitekah started firing what he could towards the enemy, Red did the same.

  Nicholas and Lance used their swords and took a position in front of Red and Ohitekah. They battled fiercely against the men who charged into them with clubs. Nicholas, swinging his mighty sword, sliced straight through any who dared approach him. Lance used his skills to swiftly counter and stab. They were both brutal and efficient. Ohitekah took care to shoot past them and wound the men in the back of the group. Red would watch Lance and Nicholas closely and if a warrior came too close to either of them while they were undefended Red would take them out. The tribesmen, seeing their strategy was failing, began to use their bows.

  Nicholas suddenly let out a loud groan and fell from his horse. He hit the ground hard and rolled to his side, an arrow stuck in his thigh. He broke it in half and left the tip lodged in him, standing back up with his broadsword.

  Lance dismounted and stood next to him. They fought back-to-back, one guarding the other. Ohitekah knew his place was to keep shooting. His hand-to-hand fighting was no match for these warriors. It was best to stay back and defend his friends the best he could.

  The scene was horrible for Ohitekah to witness. He struggled with the reality of it. Yes, it was in self-defense, but it was still the massacre of his people. He hated every second of it.

  Why can’t everyone just talk things out? Why do people need to die?

  The stereotype of the tribesmen being savage was clearly demonstrated by these warriors. They swung and clubbed wildly, no organization. Lance dealt with them easily, like fighting an angry child. His face was focused, each movement cold and calculated. Killing was nothing to these men. They were all battle hardened. The tribe warriors had no defense to Nicholas’ massive blade. He chopped through people like he was cutting down trees. Red’s face remained still, almost bored. His shots never missed, his head moving an inch to narrowly dodge an arrow. No fear, no remorse.

  Ohitekah ducked his whole body down when he thought an arrow was coming his way. He was nothing like these men, and never wanted to be. Ohitekah didn’t want to be like his friends who treated death little more than a chore He wished they would all just leave, stop fighting. Ohitekah looked at Nicholas, who was hurt but was not showing it. Blood was pooling down his leg. He fought strong and fierce, just like he said his people would. He would be dead if Lance was not covering him so protectively.

  Lance, the man no one trusted, was the first to jump to Nicholas’ side.

  But why? What was Nicholas to him?

  Nicholas fell to the ground once again, taking an arrow to the shoulder just under his metal armor. Lance ran up and stabbed the man in the chest who shot him. Lance moved swiftly across the field, slicing and stabbing men. Nicholas appeared to be severely injured this time. Lance was holding himself well, but still seemed overwhelmed. Even to a fighter such as himself, he was becoming outmatched fighting alone.

  “No more!” Red shouted. He leaped up off his horse. The Mythic flew quickly into the air, propelled by streams of fire under his feet.

  The battle came to a stop as the men stared into the sky.

  “Move!” Lance yelled, he ran up and helped Nicholas off the ground. They ran to the edge of the battlefield, and Ohitekah reared Bolt to do the same.

  Red hovered in the sky, surrounded in a spiraling orb of flame. Ohitekah could feel the intense heat even from this distance. He had to cover his eyes from its bright burning light. Red drew his bow and let loose a flaming arrow. The arrow rocketed into the battle, trailing behind it a path of black smoke. The fire arrow impacted the earth and shook the ground with an ear-shattering explosion. The fire grew and created a wall of towering flame between the tribe and the group. The wall grew in size and intensity. The tribesmen scattered in panic, shouting in their own language.

  Red was no longer himself. The first attack was clearly meant to divide the battle and drive the tribesmen away. Suddenly that was no longer enough. Red, possessed by the Mythic power, could no longer control his rage. He held out his palm toward the retreating tribesmen, and with a grin he fired a pillar of fire from his hand. The fire grew and incinerated the entirety of the men running away. In an instant, they were all turned to nothing but ash. Only a black crater remained where they once stood.

  Red turned to face his friends. His smile grew as he looked Ohitekah in the eye. He raised his palm again.

  Is he attacking us?!

  Ohitekah froze in disbelief. Nicholas found the strength to stand up and tackle Ohitekah. He covered him and braced for the flames.

  As if a switch was suddenly flicked off, Red blacked out and fell to the ground.

  Chapter Sixteen:

  New Plans

  “What happened?” Ohitekah asked as he pushed Nicholas off him.

  Nicholas groaned and rolled to his side. “Sorry, lad. I thought the samurai went rogue.”

  “Red would never—,” he trailed off, unsure. Ohitekah ran toward Red, who was beginning to wake up. His eyes were shut as if trying to block out pain. Red started to groan angrily. Ohitekah kept his distance.

  Lance walked over and tended to Nicholas’ wounds, while keeping an eye on Red.

  “Just pull it out, lad, I’ve had worse,” Nicholas muttered between breaths.

  “No, the tip is too deep. It needs to be cut out.” Lance pulled out a knife.

  Red tried to stand up but swiftly collapsed again, clenching his teeth. He was breathing heavily.

  “What’s happening to him?” Ohitekah shouted.

  “Don’t let him get too close!”
Lance yelled back.

  Red was starting to sweat and groan. He was battling something within himself. His breathing slowed as he regained control, the pain stopped and he opened his eyes. It seemed as if it took him a second to realize where he was. His eyes looked lost for a moment, like he had woken up in an unfamiliar place. Standing, he calmly walked over to Nicholas without saying a word.

  “What was that?” Ohitekah asked, more confused than anything.

  “The Mythic powers come with a price,” Red said, while crouching down to look at Nicholas’ shoulder. “There are things we need to discuss later.”

  “Why did you wait so long to do that?” Lance asked. “Your delay got one of your own injured.” Lance’s face grew furious. “One of us could’ve gotten killed because you can’t handle yourself!”

  Red looked to the blackened earth where the battle was. He stood up. “I did what I had to do. Those powers are not to be abused.” He stared hard at Lance. “Nicholas, can you ride?”

  “Not far,” Lance answered for him, staring back as if issuing a challenge.

  “No, I can ride,” Nicholas argued, being stubborn as always.

  Red was quiet then asked,. “Do we need to head back to Ashland for you? Honestly.”

  “Just pull it the hell out!” Nicholas shouted again.

  “No, Daisuke, we’re not backtracking,” Lance said.

  “We cannot risk another attack while in the open here,” Red said.

  “Go north. Behind The Wall,” Ohitekah spoke. Red looked at him. “Can you get us there?” Ohitekah asked.

  Lance said nothing.

  Red looked down, coming up with a plan. “That could very well be more dangerous, if we are discovered. We would need to be disguised. Ohitekah, you could pass for a young samurai.” Ohitekah nodded. The idea of being a samurai, even if pretend, excited him.

  “Lance, the samurai are all well studied in warfare and politics. I’m sure even the children would recognize your face as the prince of Ashland. You need to keep your head down.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Lance said coldly.

  “Nicholas,” Red calmly started as he looked him up and down. “There would be no point in disguising you would there? Just stay out of trouble.”

  “I’ll try my best.” Nicholas coughed up a laugh.

  “But first, we need to get that last arrow out of you. Lie down,” Red ordered. The one in Nicholas’ shoulder was carved out by Lance moments ago.

  He looked at the broken tip in Nicholas’ thigh. “Why did you break this?” Red asked.

  “It made sense at the time.”

  “Well at least you did not rip it out.” He studied the bloody wound. “I am going to have to push it through the other side. It’s mostly through already, so cutting it or pulling it would only damage the muscle more.”

  Lance handed Nicholas a thick stick to bite on.

  This is going to hurt. Ohitekah gritted his teeth as well.

  Red grabbed what was left of the arrow and pressed it through the rest of Nicholas’ leg. He moaned and struggled in the dirt, ripping out clumps of grass as he struggled. Red pulled the tip out through the other side.

  “Ohitekah, get Nicholas’ flask quickly.”

  “Thanks, I could use a drink,” Nicholas said with heavy breath after removing the stick.

  “You know what it is for,” Red said. “And put that stick back, we are not done.”

  Ohitekah ran to Nicholas’ horse and fished out his flask of rum which he tossed to Red. He opened it and doused Nicholas’ wounds with the alcohol. “This will kill any infection,” Red said without a hint of sympathy. Nicholas struggled again to hold back his pain.

  Red then held up two of his fingers. They began to glow red. He pressed them against Nicholas’ open wounds and cauterized them. Nicholas screamed through the stick, his jaws crushing it to pieces as his eyes opened wide in a fit of pain.

  Red stood up. “Good job. That should heal nicely.”

  “And you actually ate something that wasn’t made of meat,” Lance added with a smirk.

  Nicholas’ wails simmered down to whimpers. He managed to sit up on his own and admire his new wound.

  “That’ll make an excellent scar,” he said, spitting out pieces of wood.

  Red stood up and looked around the plains. “It is about a day’s ride to The Wall from here. We will approach it from the east. I am most familiar with that side. There is a gate we could go through.”

  “Catch me up,” Lance thought out loud. “Why are going through the north?”

  “Less risky.” Red spoke plainly. “We cannot exactly lie low out on the plains; any scout can see us from a great distance. We are a constant target being as small of a group as we are. Easy pickings for a combative tribe such as the last. In the North we can try to blend in, maneuver quickly, and get out the other side without causing a problem.”

  Lance shook his head silently without making another argument.

  Ohitekah helped Nicholas mount his steed. Bolt was visibly shaken from the fire attack he had just witnessed, and was fidgety when Ohitekah approached him. Ohitekah comforted him by patting his back before he mounted.

  Red went over the plan again. “We will pose as travelers. Ohitekah will be a samurai with me. I will act as if I am training him. It is not uncommon for an older samurai to take younger ones for journeys of education.” He looked at Ohitekah. “We will go by the names of Li for me, and Oda for you. Keep it easy to remember.”

  Ohitekah nodded.

  “Nicholas and Lance will enter separately as foreign merchants selling…” He thought to himself, “furs. We have plenty of those to use.” They agreed. “All I ask of you two would be to keep it very low key, respectful, and remember to bow to almost everyone. We will travel separately through the Empire and meet at the western gate in a week.”

  “Absolutely not,” Lance said. He seemed to be restraining himself until now. “I’m not traveling alone with this brute through enemy territory, and I’m not letting you escape with the tribe boy to hide with your own people. We can travel in groups. That’s fine. But you will stay in sight of us at all times. We will travel together and at the first sign of abandonment I’m revealing your shamed identity to your entire nation.”

  Lance dead-eyed Red, who returned the glare. Lance was not one to bluff. The tension grew once again between the two. Ohitekah did not think they could peacefully work together for long.

  Red agreed. “There will be a time you must come to trust me, Lance.”

  “Daisuke, there will be a time you must stop trusting me,” Lance replied.

  Ohitekah wanted to trust Red. He was still nervous about Lance though, and with good reason.

  Lance did save Nicholas though, and Red almost killed us.

  Ohitekah did not know what to think, or who to trust.

  They began to ride northwest in silence, across the Great Plains.

  The rolling green and yellow fields spread out in all directions, hills of golden grass waving like a sea in the breeze. This was home for Ohitekah, this was the place he belonged. Not the dark forests of Ashland, not Nicholas’ beloved seas, not behind a wall, but here, in the open plains.

  Nicholas was riding slower than usual.

  “How are you feeling?” Ohitekah asked kindly.

  “I’ve had worse, your friends did a good job fixing me up. I’ll be swinging my sword again soon.”

  “Well that’s good,” Ohitekah said mildly then added, “You fought well.”

  “Damn right I did, we all did.” He smiled. “You held yourself well out there, lad, and that’s what counts.”

  He clearly missed the fact that I killed no one.

  Nicholas paused. “Lance saved me. I’m not sure why.” He paused again. “Then Red did his thing, and that’s too much power for one man. I still don’t trust either of them. Just stick with me and we’ll look out for each other.”

  They rode through the plains for a while more. Soon the for
est could not be seen and there was nothing but rolling fields. It was reaching high noon.

  “We can rest here,” Red said. There was a lonely tree in the midst of the plains, and Red set up camp beneath it.

  “Ohitekah,” Red said, turning to him. “Let’s work on your swordsmanship.”

  Chapter Seventeen:

  The Soul of a Warrior

  Finally! I get to learn how to sword fight! Ohitekah jumped to his feet and pumped himself up. Red calmly picked up a branch from underneath the tree, snapped it into two equal lengths and tossed one to Ohitekah.

  "Your archery is near perfect, it is your hand-to-hand skills that have me worried. I will teach you the very basics." Red held his stick with his left hand as if it was sheathed at his side. Red bowed to him and Ohitekah did the same.

  I’m getting trained by a Shogun!

  Nicholas made himself comfortable under the tree and watched. He could see the excitement in Ohitekah’s eyes, which made him smile. Lance stood away from the group, keeping a watchful eye on them as they trained.

  “Before we even draw our weapons, you need to understand what they are. The sword I use is called a katana, a very traditional samurai weapon. Usually samurai use two swords, the second being called a wakizashi. They are shorter and are more for ceremony or indoor fighting. We will not be needing a wakizashi today.” Ohitekah nodded to show his understanding.

  Red drew his stick and held it in front of him. Right now, it was more than just a stick. To him, it was his own katana, a serious weapon. “The katana is said to hold the soul of the samurai. It is not only an extension of ourselves, but an extension of our spiritual being. A samurai without his katana is no better than a bird without wings. A katana without a samurai is also nothing. They must be together to be whole. Not only samurai experience this, every warrior feels this way without his weapon.” He looked at his companions “Lance? Nicholas?” he asked them for support.