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Mid way through Chapter 4, Bandits and Babes.
….Soon they heard it. The din of battle. Sword against sword, shouts
and curses, the bellow of a frightened saur, and the wails of women.
The rangers fanned out in a skirmish line, Valador in the center,
leading the trio, crossbows loaded, eyes scanning ahead. They
ran up the small hill, keeping to the side of the road where lush
vegetation partially hid their movements. Within moments, they
reached the summit.
And saw the conflict below.
A wagon stood in a clearing beside the road, not more than
forty yards from the hidden rangers. Two men with their swords
drawn were taunting an old man struggling to swing a heavy
broadsword. Four others, dressed in a motley array of battle-jerkins
and armed with swords, stood in a semi circle, their backs to the
rangers. Laughing, they goaded their two compatriots to keep
taunting the old man. The spread-eagled body of a well-dressed
warrior lay face down beside several overturned pots near a smoky
fire. Fear-pitched cries emanated from the wagon. A saur bellowed
fearfully, pulling at its tether, its nostrils twitching at the smell of
blood.
‘Look out,’ hooted one of the spectators when the old man
struck weakly at his two tormentors.
‘Come on, just knock him out and be done with it,’ growled
another. ‘There are women waiting for us.’
Valador signaled his two conscript rangers nearer. ‘Bandits,’ he
whispered. ‘Raf, shoot the man on our far right. Gelo, take out
the far left. I’ll take out the center bandit. Then we charge. Ready
boys, on my command.’
The rangers quietly loosened their bladed weapons and brought
their crossbows to a shooting position.
Raf glanced at Gelo, giving him a thumbs up. After years of
training with his mother, this was going to be their first real battle,
though Raf had often helped fend off robbery attempts at the Saur
& Buffalo Jerky Company factory where he worked as a night
guard.
‘Now!’ hissed Valador.
Three bolts shot out. All punctured home as the rangers hurtled
down the hill. A bandit whirled around, shocked at the death throes
of three of his comrades. Instinct! Shield up, sword ready, warning
shouted.
Valador slammed into the bandit’s shield, using his momentum
to drive the man backwards. The bandit staggered, swiping wildly
in panic. The hunchback parried and lunged. His sword bit deep.
Blood spurted, and the bandit gurgled out a death-groan. Valador
jerked out his sword, glancing at the fight zone.
His heart sank.
The telltale signs were there – terror in Raf’s and Gelo’s pinched
faces and blinking eyes as they circled their opponents nervously. A
cleaver and tomahawk trembled while a rusty machete quivered.
They won’t stand a chance. I thought they could fight! Valador
rushed forward, knowing at least one conscript would die before
he reached them. Movement caught his eye. Two brigands had
emerged from the jungle and were bearing down on them fast. Too
fast. The old ranger changed direction in mid-stride and charged
them, screaming his battle cry in frustration.
Raf circled a tall swordsman who had casually struck down the
old man just as the rangers charged.
The bandit grinned. ‘Oi, Otto, look at this. I’m being attacked by a
kitchen-hand,’ he drawled to his comrade. He laughed, inching towards
the shaking young ranger…then suddenly lunged with his sword.
Start of Chapter 6, Fort Sequoia.
Raf, Gelo and Stick crouched silently in dense undergrowth,
assessing half a dozen burnt wagons in a jungle clearing ahead.
Tendrils of smoke rose languidly, disturbed only by flapping wings
as crows descended to feast on the vile-smelling corpses sprawled
amongst the smoldering timbers.
The noonday sun furnaced down, sapping the sweat-dripped
rangers and bloating the bodies. A few miles behind, the convoy
traveled slowly on the ancient road that cut though brooding
jungle. Half a day’s march ahead was an ancient Tec bridge that
spanned the Orawaddi River. A border outpost named Fort Sequoia
guarded the bridge. The wastelands lay beyond.
Raf scanned for movement. Nothing…except carrion birds tearing
at putrefying flesh. He signaled with a birdcall and dashed forward.
Heart pounding, feet racing, he reached the first wagon,
scattering angry crows. Gelo and Stick erupted simultaneously,
sprinting in opposite directions around the small clearing,
crossbows at the ready.
Nothing.
‘I’m mystified,’ said Raf nasally, squeezing his nose to lessen
the stench of rotting corpses and fear-induced excrement that had
seeped from several bodies. ‘Twenty-five dead. Men, women and
children. All with their ears cut off. Signs of battle everywhere but
no sign of the killers entering the clearing. Only leaving. Whoever
attacked just appeared in their midst, killed them all, took their
possessions, burnt the wagons and then left. What do you make of
that, Gelo?’
The blond ranger kicked a charred wagon wheel. ‘Many of the
dead didn’t have their boots on… must’ve been a night attack.
Judging by the bloating, it happened three days ago. Maybe twenty,
thirty, attackers, hard to tell. Bandits probably. I know it rains
everyday but it’s strange why we can’t find a single sign of them
entering the camp.’
‘Err, maybe the attackers were spirits?’ ventured Stick.
Gelo shrugged. ‘Can’t sense any spirits around here. Stynes
maybe, only they would cut the ears off, but they couldn’t be this
far north…could they?’
‘Whoever they were, they’re long gone. First the bandits
yesterday, now this.’ Raf paused, studying the ancient road that
twisted ahead through dark jungle on the left and sodden swamps
on the right. ‘I wonder why patrols from Fort Sequoia haven’t
passed this way yet?’
‘Umm, if there’re bandits or stynes about, maybe we should
wait for the vanguard before we go further?’ suggested Stick.
Gelo glanced at the road behind. ‘Damn, the vanguard’s here
already…and we haven’t looted the bodies yet.’
A lone horse-scout appeared, clip-clopping steadily. An arrow’s
flight – some 200 yards – behind was the rest of the vanguard
strung out on both sides of the wide ancient road. On the left flank,
Shakespeare led the other rangers through verdurous jungle. On
the right flank, the swamp-scouts could be seen riding their water
buffaloes through the marshes.
Captain Zonn cantered to the conscript rangers. ‘Bandits again?’
Raf nodded, giving a quick assessment to the officer. ‘Can’t
understand how they vanished, Captain,’ he concluded.
Zonn shrugged. ‘Like you said, the real worry is why patrols
from Sequoia haven’t come this way.’ She stared at the gloomy road
ahead. Overhead, the day’s thunderclouds were gathering. ‘Stay
within an arrow flight of my lead horse-scout so he can see you.
And be alert. Let’s move out.’
Raf led Gelo and Stick forward again, sighing as he looked one
last time at the death and destruction. ‘What a shame.’
‘Ya, we should have looted the bodies before the vanguard
came,’ muttered Gelo. ‘Next time, we’ll loot first and ask
questions later.’
‘There would’ve been a few nose rings and tooth fillings
amongst those corpses,’ agreed Raf sourly. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Mid way through Chapter 9, Strength in Humility.
….Laughter guffawed from a crowd at the far end of the dancing
area. The young men and women of the convoy had congregated
there after a wild, gyrating dance to the beat of a early 21th century
song. Half-hidden in the shadows, Raf watched the preening
revelers. There seemed to be a pecking order, pinnacled on the
coterie at Jentina’s party last night. A mass of young people,
including Shakespeare, surrounded them, many glancing towards
the central group, hoping for an opportunity to join the favored
few. Those last on the social ladder stood on the crowd’s outskirts.
They seemed a little dejected, milling aimlessly yet trying to act
like they belonged. That was where the other conscript rangers
gathered, except for Jett who could not be seen.
Music thumped out again and the young crowd began to dance.
Bodies swayed raunchily in rhythm with thudding drums and
strumming guitars. Giggles and laughter, merriment and mirth,
skirts swirled, hips gyrated, blouses and shirts were loosened,
buttons freed, supple bodies liberated in the warm night. Rice wine
eased inhibitions, self-control was willingly surrendered, baser
instincts surfaced.
Jett walked past Raf and Gelo, shaking his head, muttering to
himself. ‘Look at how they dress, look at how they dance. It’s sinful.
Have they no modesty? I’m going back to camp to say my night
prayers. You fellows coming?’
Their mouths in full chew, they shook their heads, pointing to
the food in their bowls.
‘Careful with your imaginations then,’ warned Jett. ‘Imagination
is the mad woman of the house. She’ll lead you to temptations if
you don’t guard against her.’
‘Amen to that,’ said Gelo sagely, chewing clean a frog’s leg.
As Jett huffed away, Raf noticed the warlord at the far end of
the camp, standing alone, watching his people from the shadows.
Most of the other settlers had congregated in little groups, the
older people seated in earnest conversations, couples strolling hand
in hand, children and toddlers running amok. The only generation
missing were the very old. They had not been allowed to join the
convoy at JungKalif.
Raf studied the warlord. For all his power and prestige, Leon
Styne-Slayer had few he called friends. Lieutenant Valador said he
trusted no one completely. Raf had rarely seen the warlord close
up in the past month and had only seen him in the distance on a
few occasions. Once, when he was doing his shadowing boxing
exercises alone in the pre-dawn light, he had noticed the warlord
watching him from an observation deck built on the highest part of
the mesa.
Their eyes met and the warlord acknowledged Raf with a nod
before observing his people again. Raf returned his attention to the
dancers, immediately spotting Miriam laughing and dancing, poised
as ever. The ranger sighed. She was dancing with Fabian.
‘What a feast, eh!’ Gelo reappeared beside Raf, his shirt pockets
bulging and smelling strongly of kebabs.
‘Have you lined your pockets with food?’
‘It’ll beat the boiled rice and pickled cabbage for breakfast
tomorrow. Got enough for all the rangers,’ replied Gelo, patting a
large banana-leaf wrapped parcel under his arm. ‘Capybara steaks
and buffalo kebabs.’
Raf smiled. ‘Always thinking ahead.’
‘I’ve got another idea. It’s the change of guards soon. I’m sure
some of them would pay us well to take their places tonight.’ Gelo
rubbed his stomach contentedly with his free hand. ‘We’ve filled
our bellies, now it’s time to line our pockets. What do you say?’
Raf savored one last gaze at Miriam swaying to the music.
Elegant and regal, her eyes sparkled, her smile mesmerized.
The music ended and she began strolling towards the food-laden
tables with her friends. She was coming closer.
Raf turned to Gelo. ‘Let’s go see those guards.’
They had taken only a few steps when someone called out ‘Raf.’
It was a mellifluous voice, sweet as cane sugar. Raf’s heart pounded
like a war drum.
