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Chapter 52: Mistake
🕑 Added 2023-08-03 03:59:31 +0000 UTCOne-Eye Sal watched as the barges that had been towed up the rivers from Katarn were unloaded into heavy wagons bearing the shining mark of Golden Fang Trading Co.
This shipment was at least double the size of the last one judging by the number of wagons and had the increased number of guards to match. The boss would be pleased.
He sent a runner and followed the caravan as it made its slow push up toward Katagari Pass. It struck him as strange that they could produce so much even after all the ore shipments One-Eye and his friends had taken from them. They had to be getting their materials some other way.
Regardless, those bastards would pay for what they’d done.
A sharp pain exploded through his chest and everything went black.
#
Ren watched Gunney pull his arrow free of the corpse and toss the body in a bush. The lead scout looked up and gestured. Keep going. Stay Wide. Wait for the signal.
Ren pushed ahead through the undergrowth, his face painted with mud and his bow gripped tight. If everything went well, he wouldn’t be needing it.
A lilting bird call. Believable to anyone who didn’t know what it was.
Ren paused and found a tree with branches low enough for him to reach. He hung the bow from a clip on his back next to the quiver and climbed. His muscles felt strong after all the training he’d been doing and soon enough he was high off the ground with a view to the road.
A tree by the road groaned and the snapping sound of tearing wood was followed by the thump of a thick conifer crashing down just in front of the wagon train. The horses were unable to stop the momentum of their heavy loads and the first wagon crashed into the obstacle and flipped over.
“Weapons down!” shouted a voice. “We’ve got you surrounded.”
An arrow thudded into the side of one of the wagons as demonstration.
“We don’t want to hurt you, so don’t be stupid.”
The mounted guards threw down their swords and put their hands up.
Ren pulled the remote trigger formation from his pocket.
Heavily armed and armored men emerged from the bushes and trees, closing in on the wagons. As they neared, one crowed, “Usually they aren’t dumb enough to actually throw away their weapons.”
Then came another bird call. Three rising coos.
Ren activated the script and covered his eyes.
It burned away in his hand and nothing happened. Why didn’t it-
The men on horses covered the visors in their helms and blinding light exploded from the formations hidden on the sides of the wagon—so bright the glow shone through his hand.
At the same moment, a great warcry erupted from the road, followed by screams and shouts and shrieking steel.
By the time the light faded enough for Ren to look, Commander Narwalla and the rest of the soldiers hidden in the wagons were cleaving through the blinded bandits. Arrows shot down the bandits who turned to run. Ren kept his eyes on the melee as he descended from the tree. The battle was won.
Halfway down he saw a rustle in the undergrowth. Ren set his feet, pulled his bow free and drew. A man burst from the bushes, terror carved into his face.
Ren had him. He just had to let go and the arrow would do its work.
His hand, however, froze on the string.
What led a man to banditry? Now wasn’t the time for this.
What did it mean to take a life? Ren willed his fingers to release the arrow.
Would anyone miss him? He begged, but still his hand refused him.
Didn’t all blood flow the same color? His muscles trembled and stung from the tension.
The man broke into a run and disappeared into the trees.
Ren’s hands were shaking. Nausea bloomed in his throat.
#
The boss—that was what they called him now—listened magnanimously to the coward’s account of the counter-ambush. Not an hour ago, he’d been preparing to celebrate another haul. Then a second messenger, though he supposed some might call the man a deserter, arrived.
They’d lost a lot of good men and gear today. Nonetheless, if this man was right about the fact that he’d escaped unseen, there might be an advantage to be found against the damn meddlers who’d slaughtered his forces.
He looked to his pet with his one good eye, scratching the cloth that covered his permanent reminder of the treachery that led him here to this gods forsaken place. “I’ve got a job for you.”
Large eyes–red on black–glowed, and a rumbling growl shook the stone walls of the cave.
#
Should he report to the commander about the man who’d escaped? Ren didn’t know. They’d killed the rest, right? What harm could one man do? Did Ren really want to be responsible for his death?
Excuses, again. He was always making excuses. Of course he needed to report what had happened. Gunney would know how best to proceed.
The lead scout was just finishing up dispatching the scouts on their patrols while the soldiers set up camp. A few men had been injured and the company medics had requested a layover day for wound care.
“Gunney, can I pick your brain?”
“Sure, thing, let's talk and work. Help me get the northern watch-fire going.”
The two friends gathered tinder and small sticks while foresters ran larger pieces of firewood to their pile.
The silence stretched and Ren finally pushed past his fear as Gunney took out his flint, striking it on the rough pommel of his knife. “One of them got away.”
The lead scout paused for no more than a moment as sparks caught then lowered himself to breathe life into the newborn ember. Once a small flame was flickering under the small structure of twigs, he turned to Ren. “You saw him?”
“I… I did. I couldn’t- I had a shot but-” Ren looked away, unable to hold his friend’s eyes.
“You’ve never killed a man before,” Gunney finished for him. “We need to report this immediately. The commander is no fool and doesn’t take chances, so it’s not like we are going to be caught with our pants down even if there are more. But every bit of information helps.”
Gunney gestured to a forester to take over building up the fire, and they made their way through the churning milieu of rising tents and boiling pots of what would eventually be road curry. Commander Narwalla’s guards waved them through the flap.
Their leader looked up from his makeshift desk and his task of writing, scratched his bearded jaw, the hard edge of his gaze nearly masking bone deep exhaustion that resonated with Ren’s own. “Oh, good. I was about to send for you, Forester Ren. I wanted to congratulate you on your job with the light formations and I’ve got another communication for you to transmit. But I’m assuming you two are here with other business.”
“Yes sir,” said Gunney. “The forester saw one of the bandits escape our trap. I’ll let him fill you in on the details.”
Ren did so as honestly as he could. “I’m sorry I didn’t report in immediately,” he finished, unable to peel his eyes from the floor.
“Listen, Forester.” Narwalla’s eyes grew serious. “Every man makes mistakes. Some mistakes can have great costs, some are smaller, but we are all fallible. The important thing is that you communicate with your commanding officers. I’m glad you came forward with this, but we both know this is a late report. Can I trust there won’t be such delays in the future?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well.” He leveled his gaze on Gunney. “Lead Scout, we are still laying over here, but let's get some more traps up. I have some talismans to distribute as well. And tomorrow I want you to put together a small team to track down that bandit. We didn’t manage to take any alive, and I’d love to ask some questions.”
#
Ren was picked to be on the tracking team the next day and they left at first light with minimal gear so they could move fast and backtrack to the ambush site. Rain the previous night had muddled the tracks, so the team split into groups of two to cast a wider net.
Ren kept Forester Hamsa in the corner of his eye even as they separated to cover more ground. An hour passed with no signs of a human.
A wail passed through the trees, faint and strange enough it could have been a trick of the wind. But Ren’s senses were screaming something was wrong.
He met Hamsa’s gaze and they both nocked arrows with a shared nod, stalking forward silently, eyes on a swivel. Some minutes later, a faux owl hoot drew his attention to his gesturing companion, crouched just in front of a bush. Ren joined him and, after a gesture telling him to peek over the foliage, he shifted to look into the clearing beyond.
The grass gleamed, thousands of emerald blades, flowers of purple and gold bloomed out of season, and at the center towered the trunk of a tree as wide as a freight wagon was long. Blue veins of light pulsed beneath black bark that shone like obsidian in the sun. This was a true treasure.
Ren’s mind traveled to everything he’d learned about Aether Trees. There was undoubtedly a guardian beast nearby. He slipped into his Silver Fox Meditation, determined to remember this sight even if he never got to see it again.
Something was wrong. There were tears in the earth which mended even as he watched. Crimson stained blades of grass. A claw mark on the side of the tree.
He needed to get closer. The two foresters exchanged a look and split up, entering the clearing at separate points and examining. Thick indigo sap dripped from the gashes in the tree as blood from a wound.
Ren kept his eyes from the claw marks, pushed down the dark visions they summoned, instead following the signs of conflict to the edge of the clearing. Then he backtracked to where the conflict began, stepping out to the normal forest ground where tracks might be easier to identify. No tracks. None at all for a span of several paces in any direction. Kneeling low to the earth—faint brushstrokes at the edges. Black Claw wolf.
His mind raced, putting together all the little bits of information, his meditation speeding his thoughts. Two creatures had left in the direction of camp, something very large chasing the wolf.
His breathing came fast and shallow and desperate. He pushed the scent of entrails and blood and rot from his nose as it rose from memory to flood his senses.
A deep breath.
Another.
They had to leave. They had to get back. He raised his hand to his mouth, one cupping the other and made a fluttering bird call. Hamsa was with him in moments. Soon more bird calls rang out and the search party converged on their location.
“A black claw?”
“Towards camp?”
Thankfully the wolf hadn’t bothered to erase its tracks after it escaped the clearing, so he was able to prove his claims this time.
They began their run back, fanning out.
Ren felt for his raven-feathered arrows. This time, he wouldn’t be helpless.
[Next Chapter Friday]
Comments
Isiah Debarros
He better get his act straight
John O'Connor
Imagine being in a military unit with a person like Ren who you couldn’t trust to fight beside you.
