Stronger than Bone (6 page)

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Guy was stuck.

He took a chance and followed a game trail to move faster through the forest, but saving time ran him directly into the gang. He was right in the middle of them before he saw them and now all he could do was hold still and pray.

The taller, younger axeman was ahead of him and the older one, head down, was coming up on him now. He was only a few paces away, and Guy hoped he would walk right past him. Guy tried to become as small as possible, hoping for some kind of miracle. He pulled his knife and held his breath.

He no longer heard the men ahead, just the older axeman, crunching ever closer, not even trying to be quiet. That meant there were two more behind him somewhere, and they couldn’t be far behind. Ever closer, he heard him coming. Then, just as the old man reached the tree, the noise stopped.

“What in blazes is this?” Guy heard the old grizzled man say. “Aren’t we pretty?” The axeman said with a grunt as he very audibly bent over to look at something.

“Pretty?” Thought Guy? “Are you serious?”
And unable to stop himself he peered around the tree. There, he saw the grizzled old axeman, grinning euphorically and bent full over, smelling a wild yellow and orange flower with his eyes closed. Guy’s eyes darted beyond the old man and to either side, and then, without hesitation, he took one step out from the tree and stabbed deep into the pocket between the grizzled neck and shoulder. In desperation he continued stabbing until the man fell to the ground. Blood sprayed out in great bursts and sucking noises filled his ears. His heart was pounding like thunder as he suddenly remembered the others that must be close. He fell flat, on top of the body, and froze. He looked up, straining to hear anything above his own heartbeat and ragged breath. He saw movement in the trees off to the left.

“Slap your sister!”
he thought, and he hugged the old man tightly, trying to be invisible.

“Hurry up Brick!” growled a hairy beast of a man as he lumbered through the forest. “We’re falling behind! Forget those two. If they don’t catch up that’s their problem.”

Brick, who looked more like a sapling, was pacing him, farther to the left, and gave no indication he had heard him say anything. Guy thought the moniker may have spoken to his mental capacity rather than his physical build. Both men were completely focused on moving fast, and didn’t notice to gory scene only a few paces to their own left as they ran by. Guy let out a huge sigh and slowly stood up.

Without waiting for any more surprises, he set out, swinging back to the west then north toward the cabin.

At the same time and due south, rebel soldiers found Chase and Guy’s camp. Sarge took a look around and frowned. It looked like two men had camped here, rather than a single escaped soldier like the one they were pursuing. He absentmindedly reached up and scratched the balding top of his head.
“It doesn’t matter, we still have more men than they do.”
He reasoned to himself.

“We’re getting close.” He said out loud, and he kicked over the nearest of two lean-to’s at the edge of the camp.

The other two men passed through the camp, eying the area for anything salvageable, and resumed their march through the forest. Sarge looked over his shoulder and carefully to each side, and then followed his men.

Corvis raised his hand and signaled his men to halt. He looked up at the goat trail and decided this was as far as they could go mounted. His men closed in behind him and he dismounted. He began checking his gear and tugging on the tie downs. The other five followed his lead. They worked in silence, often looking up to scan the area. Two days ago they found the camp site of a small group of rebel soldiers, and Corvis knew they were close to overtaking them. He hoped he would find Chase among them.

The men signaled they were ready, and Corvis nodded at the Private beside him. Guiding his horse by a lead rope, the Private took point and set to finding the best way up. Corvis followed the Private with his own horse in tow, and each of the others did the same. Soon they were making their way up the Northern Mountains, grateful for horses to carry their water and gear.

More often than he wanted to, Lieutenant Brente ordered the men to stop and rest. The men could push on at a faster pace, and continue with fewer breaks, but Corvis knew they would also be in worse condition to fight if the need arose. It was much better to pace his soldiers and conserve their energy for what he knew lay ahead. By late afternoon they were at the top of the false pass and remounting to resume the hunt for the rebel soldiers, and hopefully, Lieutenant Martin.

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Death stood perfectly still. His given name had died many years ago at the hands of the man he searched for now. Watching from the shadows within the tree line, he patiently took in every detail of the homestead directly in front of him. He watched as an old man walked over to the shed, and with difficulty, climbed atop. He hadn’t seen the other man standing on top until that moment, and it took every ounce of his considerable will power to stay still once he had. As he stood frozen, muscles tensed and teeth clenched nearly to the point of cracking, he recalled the events of Bloody Beach twenty years ago.

“Hold fast men!” Lieutenant Daniel Szerimi towered above his men as he shouted to the company of hardened warriors. The men could fight, oh how they could fight. In fact, what frustrated him most was that he couldn’t contain them once they began killing. They were a hodgepodge of criminals and mercenaries brought together by a common goal: money. He had no illusions that his leadership was what kept them together.

Before him, the men fought for months under several commanders. Lieutenant Szerimi hoped he would last longer than the last one. He couldn’t be sure, but it was likely that his own men had done him in. Whatever the case, Szerimi slept with a knife in his hand, and when possible, a wall to his back.

His company held their ground as the King’s soldiers pounded their way across the muddy ground toward them. The Lieutenant was confident his men would win this skirmish, but his stomach was in knots anyway. He held a crucial position on the battlefield. Success here would mean promotion, and perhaps a different assignment, away from these animals. His back tensed as always, half expecting betrayal in the form of a silent blade from one of his men. Even when the enemy closed, and he shouted the command to engage, he imagined the point of a blade poised to thrust between his ribs.

As he fought, killing and maiming the King’s men rushing in to take his life, he was ever aware that his back was exposed to his own pack of hired killers. But today, the blade would not come from one of his own, and it would not kill him. Oh, he would wish that it had. For many years he would wish for death, until slowly, as pain and ruin twisted his mind, death is what he became.

The strike cut up at a hard angle through his groin, severing his testicles and penis, and shattering his pelvis. The second strike sliced down his towering body, and laid him open on the muddy shore. Both strikes were delivered by the man he stared at now, the commander of the enemy unit at Bloody Beach. That man stole his hope and left him wasted and bleeding in the mud. Lieutenant Szerimi’s body didn’t die that day, but his soul did. He could no longer be a man, so he became something different. He became something dark, something to make other men quake. What he wanted most; what he dreamed of all those years, was to find this man and kill him slowly: very slowly.

His fury slowly subsided as more recent events played out in his mind. His upper lip curled in a grimace as he remembered the well-dressed man who commissioned the killing. The grimace became even more disturbing as his mouth contorted into a malicious smile. He recalled the man whispering the name of the mark.

He showed no emotion or outward reaction then, and not even his own men knew of his hidden agenda with this man. Not that it would make a difference if they did. They would do as he wished or they would die. That was the way, and they knew it.

Death turned slowly to look behind him. Only three of his crew had caught up so far. He stared hard at each of them, saying nothing and everything at once. They had come to know his methods. Watch for my signal and then kill. It was always the same. He didn’t care how. When it came to it, he didn’t even care who. As long as they killed the person who needed killing, they could do what they wished once unleashed.

He turned back to the homestead and saw the old man walking back into the cabin. The man on top of the shed looked to the eastern edge of the property, watching something. Death shivered with anticipation as he watched the man swing down from the roof wielding an axe and run in the direction he had been looking. He stepped forward to get a better view, and saw a panel open on the south side of the house. A crossbow was pointed out, toward the east.

“There.”
He thought as another man came running from the eastern tree line. The man was carrying a bundle of weapons.

Death turned again to look at his men: still only three.
“The fat and the skinny…and the old one.”
He calculated. He looked at the younger axe-man, the idiot, and the loudmouth. His anger started to swell again.

When he turned back to the homestead the men were shaking hands. He had hoped his mark would kill, or at least wound, the other man. Now it looked as if they were allying. They walked together to the cabin and went inside.

Death swung a fist viciously at the nearest tree and set it shaking with a dull thud. Unsatisfied with the result, he pulled one of many knives from his belt and stabbed the tree lightning fast. His blood rage boiled over as the tree refused to die. He wrapped his enormous hands about the base of the adolescent tree and heaved upward. Slowly, the roots broke free of the ground and ripped as he pulled. With a growl he shoved forward through the tree line and hurled the tree toward the cabin like a missile. They already knew he was coming. It was no use hiding now. His hat, knocked to the ground during the tirade, lay at his feet. Gaining control of his anger, he snatched his hat and stepped back into the trees.

He gave a slight nod to the west and stepped off; leading his men to a new position and buying himself time to think. Looking at each other, the remaining three men in his crew shook off their feelings of uncertainty and followed Death deeper into the woods.

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Lynn looked over the weapons cache the Sergeant Major uncovered beneath the floor of the cabin. They were in pristine condition: another crossbow and quiver; two plain, but well-conditioned swords with belts; and a battle axe with a broad blade on one side and a wicked hammer opposite. Lynn claimed one of the swords and fastened the belt about his waist. He lifted the battle axe and smirked grimly as he tested the weight and balance.

Chase looked at the swords he carried and set them aside, claiming the other sword and belt from the Sergeant Major’s armory. He fastened the belt about his waist and lifted the other crossbow, sighting down the body. He grunted approval and slung the quiver over his shoulder.

Just then, the Sergeant Major, who had been keeping watch out the southern window growled, “Movement southwest!” Then he added, “He just ripped a tree out of the ground and threw it at us. That’s not something I see every day.”

“They’re going to move,” said Lynn looking over the Sergeant Major’s shoulder. “I’ll watch the back. Lieutenant, I’d appreciate it if you’d take that crossbow up on the shed roof where you saw me earlier. You can see almost full-circle up there, but that means you’re exposed too, so be careful.”

“I’m on it,” said Chase, and he was already heading out the door.

Lynn turned toward the corner nearest the fireplace to see Charity and her puppy peeking out of a secret hatch in the floor. “Charity, you and…Cuddles…get below and stay there, Love.” He said with a furrowed brow.
“Why did I let her name that dog?”
he thought. “Lock that hatch and don’t come up for anything or anyone, unless you know it’s me or Seth.”

Charity didn’t say a word. She nodded once and disappeared below the floor, closing the hatch behind her. Lynn heard the bolt close, locking the hatch. “I have the door Seth,” He said flatly, and he stepped just outside to watch and wait.

Seth looked over his shoulder at Lynn’s back. He wondered what was going through the man’s head right now. To be honest, he was rattled after seeing the gaunt giant uproot a tree with his bare hands. He threw it at them as if it were a toy.

Seth hoped his friend had more courage than he did right now, and maybe some of it would rub off. He turned back to the window quietly and recalled other times he felt rattled before a fight. He secretly looked to a younger Sergeant Hayes for courage back then too.

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

“Because that’s what I would do Lieutenant.” The Sergeant Major growled over his shoulder in answer to Chase’s question. “We have crossbows and protective walls. They are not armored. The only advantage they can gain is from the coming darkness.”

“Or fire,” offered a muffled voice from under their feet.

Chase and the Sergeant Major both turned toward the hidden trap door in the floor and then looked at each other. As if sharing the same mind they both looked up at the exposed wooden beam and rafters holding up the shingled roof.

“Or fire,” admitted the Sergeant Major under his breath. He turned back to watch out the window and shook his head.
“Why didn’t I think of that? She’s a little too much like her Father.”

Chase, who had recently traded places with Lynn also turned back to his area of responsibility. From the doorway he could see the whole back edge of the property. He searched the tree line for any sign of movement. He hoped to see Guy hobble into view, but he knew that with every passing hour the chances of that happening were diminishing.

He looked left where he could see Lynn atop the shed keeping watch. He wondered what Sergeant Hayes was thinking about.
“Are the stories true? If he can still fight like that, then we may live through this.”
Chase hoped. He remembered a freezing night along the campaign trail, not so long ago, when his men huddled together to keep warm and told stories to keep their spirits up.

“My uncle was there at Bloody Beach. He was one of the Sergeant’s most trusted men,” said one of the privates, proudly. “He says a giant led the enemy company. He was seven feet tall, at least! It was near the end of the fight, and mind you, it wasn’t no easy battle. Their platoon was outnumbered, starving, and completely exhausted before it even started. It seemed hopeless, but my uncle says Sergeant Hayes gave ‘em a talking to that turned it all around. He fired ‘em up with just a few words. It was like magic! Pretty soon, they was charging at the enemy with so much anger and pride running through ‘em that they couldn’t help but win! So there it was, near the end of the fight when the giant Lieutenant from the other side squares off with the Sergeant. My uncle says it was like David and Goliath. The fighting all around ‘em stopped and everyone just sorta watched what was going to happen. My uncle says Sergeant Hayes looked like an avenging angel. He was covered from head to toe in red blood, some of it his own. So the giant, who is still looking clean and fresh, yells out and jumps forward, swinging his sword in a powerful, swift arc. Sergeant Hayes is just standing there, chest heaving from the fight, blood dripping down his sword and off his face. Before the Giant’s sword has come half way around, the Sergeant steps in and to the side with a lighting quick up-stroke, cutting through the giant’s nethers! Then, just as fast, he steps back and cuts him near in half with a slash down the length of his body! My uncle says there’s never been a man born a better leader or Soldier. He says if the Sergeant was leading the Army, we couldn’t lose.”

Chase remembered the minutes of silence after that. The idea of fighting under a commander who could inspire a whole army was uplifting. Fighting and freezing for a King that many despised was almost too much to bear. Lieutenant Chase determined that regardless of who they fought for, he would be the kind of leader his men needed him to be. He would inspire them.

He saw Lynn look in his direction and give him a nod before looking back to the trees. Chase took a deep breath and wondered at a fate that would bring him here at this time.

Just then he saw movement in the tree line on the North Eastern edge of the property. Out from the cover of the trees and over the open ground hurried a bloodied man with one good leg. Chase immediately raised the crossbow to his shoulder and began walking forward, covering the tree line to the west and north as he moved. If anyone tried to intercept his brother, they would be rewarded with a violent but swift death.

Guy glanced over his shoulder at the trees as he ran toward the house.
“Slap your sister! I’ve never felt more exposed,”
he thought. Stumbling and nearly falling, he cursed and kept his eyes forward as he recovered. He hobbled faster across the expansive open ground.

Guy could see his brother with crossbow raised, covering the tree line as he closed with him. He didn’t shout as he ran, and he hoped to hell the people at the homestead would stay quiet as well. If he could make it there without being killed he had information that might just finish this quickly.

Guy hobbled into the cabin and fell heavily into a chair by the fireplace. While he caught his breath, Lynn and Chase followed him in. Once they were al inside, he reported what he had seen.

“Lieutenant Martin and I will go,” Lynn said with finality. “Guy, can you use a sword?”

“I can keep from cutting myself, if that’s what you mean, but I really haven’t had that much practice” he answered. “I’m much better with a knife…or crossbow?”

Lynn thought for a moment and then looked over at the Sergeant Major, giving him an apologetic smile. The Sergeant Major rolled his eyes and handed the crossbow over to the newest member of the group.

“Any questions?” Lynn asked the other three men. “Ok, then. Charity, I’ll see you soon Love. Same rules apply: you stay put,” he spoke to the floor.

“Yes, sir,” came the reply from below his feet.

He looked at each of the men and gave a nod before picking up his battle axe and heading out the door. He had buckled his sword belt over his shoulder, so that the blade lay down his back. He had explained to Chase that it aided in stealth while walking through the forest as well as adding protection against a blow across the back. The young Lieutenant had followed suit. Chase wore his own sword down his back and carried his crossbow as he followed Sergeant Hayes out of the house and into the forest.

Guy took up the window crossbow position and Seth, now wielding a sword, took a position in the doorway.

From below their feet, they could hear the dog whining quietly. Seth considered bringing the other pups and their mother from the shed, but decided against it.
“They’re safer out there,”
he thought.