Chapter 47

We marched into the fishing village around noon that day. I led the way into the village once Gort and Ohba had verified that there weren’t any armed men there. My troops had been deployed around the village so that if anything did happen, my people would be in place to respond. I went in with Dunbar, Carmen, and two men from Durt’s squad. Our arrival caused quite a stir.

The village stood about ten feet above the high water mark and roughly thirty feet from the water’s edge. It consisted of roughly two dozen buildings. All the buildings were made of mortar and stone and they had thatched roofs. Some were round and some were square in shape. A couple actually had enclosed pens behind them suggesting that at some time in the recent past, the occupants of the village raised small animals, either chickens or rabbits. Those pens were now visibly empty. The largest building in the village stood upon a small rise to the right of the only street that ran through the village, just overlooking the stone beach and the small cove in which the villagers lived. I headed my people towards it.

The villagers ran. The women and children who were there scurried into their huts and hovels, the moment they spotted us. Most of the men did the same. Only a couple of them stayed where they were, as they were on the beach mending a boat when we got there. By the time they noticed us, it was too late for them to flee.

“I want to speak to your headman,” I called out, stopping just short of the large building, turning to face the three men who had been working on the boat. “Have him come and speak to me.”

The men just gaped at me for a moment or two, too stunned to do anything else. I’d spoken to them in the River dialect, and from their reaction it was clear that they hadn’t expected it. Eventually they came to their senses. Whether deciding it would be a wise thing to do, or realizing I was giving them a perfect excuse to run and hide; the three men dropped the tools they were using to repair the fishing boat, and they headed off as quickly as they could. I smiled with amusement as they went.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Dunbar asked chuckling as he did. “They moved very fast for men used to working on the sea. You’d think that they were professional runners.”

I chuckled as well, but I didn’t answer Dunbar. I was busy taking in what I could see. In addition to the dwellings that dominated the village, I could make out a couple of garden plots off to one side. Obviously these people were a little more advanced than the nomadic tribes like the Horse People. They might survive on the bounty of the sea, but it was clear that fish wasn’t the only thing they ate.

Of course fishing was a big part of the villagers’ life and the evidence of its importance was also clearly visible. There were six dugout canoes lying on the stone beach, including the one that was being repaired. The boats were about twenty feet long. The villagers had raised the sides of the boats by putting planking about the upper side of the dugout, increasing the height of the boat by another foot. They were very interesting to look at. There were also several drying racks standing off to the left hand side of the village on an open flat of rock where it was clear the villagers processed their catches. At the moment, the racks were bare and some looked like they needed repair.

I actually didn’t get to look about too much. By the time I was getting ready to take a walk down to the water’s edge, Dunbar was tapping me on the arm, alerting me to the fact that we had company.

“Are you the headman of this village?” I called out to the old man who was slowly walking towards me. The man was small, withered, and frail looking. He actually didn’t look well. He was dressed in a tunic made from buckskin, leggings from possibly a wild cow, and rabbit skin moccasins. He also had a large deer hide thrown about his shoulders. While the sun was out and the weather warm, the wind coming off the water was cool. The old man stopped when I called out to him.

“I am Otho,” the old man replied in a voice that imitated his appearance. “I am the headman of this village. What can I do for you, hunter?”

I stepped towards the old man, extending both my hands out before me to indicate that I was unarmed, even though my carbine hung before me by its sling. Still I did my best to seem unaggressive to the old man as I approached him. I even stopped a few feet away, not stepping too close to him; just in case he thought I was going to hurt him.

“I am Jake, leader of the Bear Tribe, and I would like to speak with you,” I told Otho firmly, though keeping my voice as friendly as I could make it. “I have travelled far from the north hunting bad men who hurt my people and my friends. We have punished many of the bad men, but now we are here to punish their leader. I have been told that he sends his men here from time to time to take your fish. Is that not so?”

The old man visibly shook when I told him that I was here to punish Winslow. His old weathered face went pale and he tried not to meet my gaze. Eventually the old man licked his lips and admitted to me that Winslow did come to the village to take away their catch. I nodded silently in response.

“You needn’t worry about me and my people,” I told the man as reassuringly as I could. “We know that the bad men have made you help them through threats and violence. My people are not here to do the same to your people. We are here to put an end to it. Do you understand this?”

The old man looked about nervously for a moment or two before nodding his head to indicate that he did understand.

“Are you afraid that the bad men will come back and hurt your people?” I asked softly, feeling the anxiety emanating from the old man.

The old man nodded his head ‘yes’ once again, still refusing to meet my gaze.

“They won’t,” I told the man bluntly. “I intend to kill them all.”

My words startled the old man. He glanced about nervously some more, licking his lips and looking like he was getting ready to run. It was clear that he wasn’t happy with what I was saying.

“Did the bad men take hostages from this village?” I enquired out of curiosity.

The old man nodded his head ‘yes.’

“Did they take many?” I pressed more firmly, trying to get an answer out of the man. “How many of your people are the bad men’s slaves?”

“Ten,” the old man replied through trembling lips. “They took ten of our young women when they first came here, telling us that if we did not do as they said, the ten would die grisly deaths. Then the men would come back and kill all our children. We haven’t seen the young women for many months. Still, we obey the bad men, just in case they are alive.”

I nodded my understanding and sighed.

“I can’t tell you about the young women that the bad men took,” I admitted to the old man in an apologetic voice. “I know that the bad men use the young women they take for their pleasure, so they might still be alive. One can only hope. I will say that if I find any of your young women when I go and punish the bad men, I will send them back to you. However, for now, that must wait. Tonight I will impose upon this village’s hospitality. I’ve been told that the bad men will be sending a ship tomorrow to pick up what is kept in the big house, to take back to their people. When it does come here, I will seize the ship and take it as my own, punishing the men aboard it. Then I will move on, until I finally reach the bad men’s village and I confront them there. Do you understand this?”

The old man nodded ‘yes.’

“Good,” I declared with a sigh of relief. “I don’t expect much from you today or tomorrow. My men and I will keep to ourselves and we will not hurt any of your people, so long as they do not try to hurt us, and so long as no one tries to take word to the bad men of our presence here. Tomorrow, I will ask that your villagers act as normally as they can. If the men normally fish while the ship is here, then have them fish. If they hide, then let them hide; but whatever you do, do not make the bad men suspicious. Can you and your people do this?”

“Yes,” the old man responded after a moment or two, speaking through lips that still trembled. “We can try.”

“Good,” I said again with another sigh of relief. “I am happy to hear that. Now let me give you something to make our stay more congenial. I understand that the big house is filled with food gathered for the bad men to take away. They won’t be taking it away tomorrow, so why leave it there to go to waste. Instead, I think your people should come and take what is there to your homes, to fill your larders and your bellies. What do you think of that?”

The old man didn’t know what to think. My suggestion left him stunned and to a point, looking at me with a look of horror. It was clear that Winslow’s men had made certain that these people didn’t steal any of the food, probably on threat of death or even worse, torture. No matter what I said to the man, he wouldn’t accept my offer. In the end, I sent him back to his home and his people, telling him that I’d see him in the morning.

“That appeared to go well,” Dunbar muttered once I’d finished speaking to the old man, having not understood a word I’d said to the man because I’d spoken in the River dialect and not our own. “Will he cooperate?”

“I think so,” I muttered almost in disgust, switching back to the common tongue as I replied. “Winslow’s thugs have the old man and the villagers whipped. I’ve told him why we’re here and what I intend to do. It frightens the man, but I don’t think he will do anything to interfere with our plan. We’ll just have to wait and see. For now all we can do is to post sentries and watch. If someone does try to head off to warn Winslow we can stop him, hopefully without killing him. It would help our cause if we didn’t do these people any more harm.”

“I guess you’re right,” Dunbar admitted softly in reply. “I’ll go pass the word.”

With that Dunbar headed off to speak to Burton and to make the rounds of our sentries. I watched him go and then I turned and glanced over at Carmen, who’d been watching me throughout my conversation with the old man, and with Dunbar.

“Any regrets?” I asked her pointedly.

“Only one,” Carmen replied without hesitation, “and that’s not having known about you and the others before you shot down the Puma. If I’d known about you, I’d have run for the hills with as many friends as possible, and we’d have joined you a long time ago. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m with you all the way.”

I smiled in reply and then nodded my head in acceptance. I then glanced past Carmen and stared for a moment at the big dwelling. After a moment I let out a sigh.

“Let’s go and see what’s in that place,” I told her and the two men with her. “It’s time to get some thing to eat.”

The sloop slipped into the cove the next morning. It came in puttering along on its engine. The craft was about thirty feet long and it had a single mast. All the sails were either struck or stowed away. The craft came in without much of a fanfare, coming about just before cutting its engine and dropping its anchor. Once it was on station, the crew onboard it got to work putting a zodiac over the side. I watched it all from the door of the large building.

From what I could see there were only two of Winslow’s uptime personnel on the craft. One was at the stern and was obviously the skipper of the ship. He’d been the one steering it in, before cutting the engine and dropping the anchor. He was now supervising the lowering of the zodiac. The second man was a guard. He was standing near the ship’s mast keeping an eye on the men helping the skipper put the zodiac in the water. Those men looked like locals.

“Let’s see how this pans out,” I murmured over my throat mic. “Dunbar, I want you to keep an eye on the guard. When I give the word, kill him. As for the rest of these bastards, I want them alive.”

The craft didn’t radio for Olaf at all. I had the radio set up in the large building with me. Carmen was monitoring it. Olaf was bound and gagged and sitting on the ground beside it, suffering in pain from his injuries. If necessary, I’d let him talk, but I hoped that wouldn’t become necessary. The man was becoming uncooperative.

The skipper and the two men with him scrambled into the Zodiac once it was lowered into the water and tied off. Then once they were aboard the guard came and helped them cast off. A few seconds later the small boat came into the shore, driven towards it by what I assumed was an electric motor. It didn’t make any sound, but it did push the craft along at a reasonable clip. Once the bow of the boat grated against the shore, the skipper cut the engine, and the men with him scrambled out and onto the shore to pull the boat up and out of the water. Only when the Zodiac was beached did the skipper of the sloop climb out of it.

The man was tall, blonde, and middle aged. He was dressed in a heavy sea coat, corduroy pants, hard-soled boots, and a knitted cap. About his waist he wore a gun belt and a holster that hung heavy with a weapon. It was the only one he was carrying, as far as I could see. The second he was ashore, he glanced about and then spotted me.

“Who the hell are you?” the man demanded to know as he grabbed for his pistol.

“Freeze,” I snapped in return bringing up my carbine, and lighting up the man’s chest with my laser range finder. “If you don’t you’re dead.”

The man didn’t get a chance to reply. A shot rang out loud and clear across the water of the cove where the sloop had just anchored. The shot startled the man and his two companions. He spun about to see who’d fired it. He didn’t see the shooter, but he did see the results of the shooter’s work. To his surprise and obvious horror, the man watched as the body of his guard tumbled into the dark water of the cove.

“I hope that makes my point,” I growled sharply at the man as he began turning back towards me. “Either you drop your gun belt and weapon now, or you’re dead.”

The man hesitated only for a moment, and then slowly and carefully he unbuckled his gun belt and he let it drop to the ground at his feet.

“Smart,” I declared sarcastically, “now let’s see if you can stay smart. Get down on your knees and get your hands in the air. If you don’t; bang, you’re dead!”

The man did as he was told. The moment he did, the two young hunters with me came forward. While one covered the two local men with the skipper, the other bound the skipper’s hands behind his back. Then he quickly searched the man. He found a knife in a sheath hidden by the tail of his coat, but that was the only other weapon that the man was carrying. As he searched the man, I kept an eye on everyone.

The two local men twigged my interest. They were bigger than some of the men I’d seen here about, and to the north. Their size made them stand out, as did their attire. They were both dressed in combat pants and boots, and they were wearing a buckskin shirt over it. As far as I could see, neither man carried weapons.

“Who are you?” I asked the two once my hunter had finished with the skipper of the sloop.

The two men looked at me strangely in response to my question. I’d spoken to them in the River dialect. When they failed to reply, I tried the Forest People’s tongue. To my surprise they responded to that.

“We are hunters of the northern woods,” the bigger of the two replied proudly. “I am Brogart and this is Dolat. Who are you?”

“I am Jake, leader of the Bear Tribe,” I informed the man, speaking their language slowly and carefully. “Do you hunt with these men of your free will or are you their slaves?”

The man’s face darkened in response to my query and I could see the desire in his face that screamed the need to hurt someone, in particular, me. The man however thought better of it after a second or two. He gritted his teeth a bit before responding, but eventually he answered my question.

“These men have taken our women and children! They hold them locked away at their village,” Brogart stated with anger in his voice. “If we do not serve these men, they will kill them.”

I nodded my understanding, but I said nothing in reply. For a moment I thought about the raiders that we’d dealt with the day before, wondering if these men were of the same tribe and wondering if the men we’d killed had been forced into Winslow’s service as these men had been. For some reason my gut said no. It still made me wonder. Sighing softly to myself, I turned my attention back to the two men.

“Are there others like you serving these men?” I asked pointedly, watching the men’s faces as they thought about their answers.

“There are other men of the forest who serve these men,” Brogart replied without hesitation, although there was a hint of disgust edging his voice. “They are not of my tribe. My tribe stood further to the north. There was a great sickness and many died. Dolat and I brought our families south to seek a new place where the spirits are kinder to our people. We were captured by these men and forced to serve them. The others serve because they are friends.”

“The other men of the Forest are dead,” I told Brogart without any reservation. “These men are my enemies, and any who freely serve them are my enemies as well. I met the others a day ago during the night, and I killed them all. Now I am here to deal with this man before going to the place where they live to deal with their leader. Do you want to come with me?”

I wasn’t lying about killing all the raiders. Sygor and Ruba had trailed the wounded men for part of the day, after we’d released them. One didn’t get too far as his wound had bled heavily and he’d eventually dropped in his tracks having bled out. At that point the others made a decision that proved fatal. Obviously they knew that they weren’t going to make it back to their tribe in the state they were in, and one of the men convinced the others that turning south again was their only option. They left their fallen comrade where he was and they turned about, heading back the way they’d come. They hadn’t gotten far. Sygor and Ruba let them walk towards them until they were in range of their carbines, and then the pair killed them.

Brogart looked towards Dolat and Dolat looked back after a second and nodded his head. Brogart nodded his head as well, and then he turned and faced me.

“I will hunt with you,” Brogart told me, puffing up his chest as he said it, “but a man of the Forest cannot follow you. Will you accept us into your tribe?”

The man’s request surprised me. I hadn’t expected it, even after Brogart had stated that his family had fled sickness in their own tribe for a better life. Clearly the man was desperate, to free his family and to provide them with a home.

“There are many people in my tribe,” I told both men, still taking my time as I explained things to them. “They have come from many different tribes, and some are women and children of the Forest. They are all of the Bear Tribe, now. We speak one language amongst us, though some speak their own in the privacy of their furs. I ask but one thing of all who join my tribe: work for the tribe. If you work for the tribe then you honour me and the tribe; and the tribe will protect you, seeing to it that you are fed and sheltered. Can you agree to this?”

Both Brogart and Dolat nodded their heads without even having to think about it. When they did, I offered each man my forearm to clasp. They took it without hesitation. With that done I called Sakkor down and I introduced the two hunters to him. I explained that Sakkor was from a southern tribe and that he was helping us of his own free will, and that he too wished to join my tribe. I told the two men to go with him for the time being, to get out of the cold wind and to have something to eat. I promised to speak to them later. First I needed to question my new prisoner. Without saying a word the men agreed and they followed Sakkor back towards where we’d hidden our camp. With that taken care of, I turned and smiled at the skipper of the sloop.

“Now it’s your turn to talk,” I told him pointedly, “and if you don’t, there are enough people with me, who hate you and all the others who work for Winslow, that it will take a long time for you to die. Trust me on that.”

The man was Terry McLean and he was Scottish. He was an older man, who was clearly pushing fifty. He at least looked it with a well weathered face, thinning grey hair, a full beard complete with a moustache. He was however fit looking and well fed. He was quite surprised to find out who I was. Like most people I’d captured since coming to this Earth, he thought I’d died. It made questioning him that much easier.

Terry had been employed by Winslow for a couple of years to sail the man about on his sloop, ‘The Blooming Heather’. In that time he’d actually only taken Winslow out on the water twice, although he’d taken several friends of the man sailing from time to time. When Winslow offered him an opportunity to sail on seas that hadn’t been sailed upon as yet, the man had agreed. Since passing through the Gateway, Terry hadn’t done much sailing. He had instead been using the sloop to ferry supplies up and down the coastline, helping to keep the base fed.

Terry wasn’t a stupid man. He could easily see in which direction the wind was blowing and he volunteered to join my happy family, if I’d let him live.

“Have you been a bad boy since coming here, Terry?” I asked the man pointedly, glaring down at the man where he was still kneeling amongst the stones on the beach. God, his knees must be killing him.

They were in fact killing him and he ended up begging me to either let him stand or at least sit on his ass so he could focus better on our conversation. Feeling generous, I let him sit.

The man’s face clouded with apprehension in response to my inquiry. He looked at me hesitantly and then he glanced over his shoulder towards the sloop anchored in the cover. Then he glanced back at me, biting his lower lip as he did. Finally he started to talk.

“I’m not a bad man,” Terry rushed to explain in heavily accented English. “I’ve not done anything like the other men working for Mr. Winslow. I’ve certainly not killed anyone, although I will admit to standing by and watching it happen more than once. I regret doing that, but if truth be told, Winslow would have shot me just like he shot anyone else who got in his way. I know that it doesn’t really make a difference to you people, but to be honest with you, what I have done isn’t very bad. I’ve got the impression that you’re going to paint me with the same brush as Winslow, even if I’m innocent.”

“If you were innocent Terry, you wouldn’t be going on about it, would you?” I asked the man pointedly. “Now tell me the truth, and I’ll be the judge of whether you live or die.”

That didn’t really reassure the man, but eventually he got hold of his courage and he confessed his sins to me. In truth they weren’t very bad.

It turned out that Terry had rescued a River girl from slavery, or at least that was how he saw it. He’d taken a force down the coast shortly after arriving through the Gateway to raid an island village that Winslow wanted eliminated. The force of twelve men had landed without any resistance. After walking into the village and killing everyone they didn’t want to keep as slaves, they’d set fire to the village. Terry had simply sat back on the ‘Heather’ and watched in silence, feeling helpless, and feeling disgusted. It was while watching what was going on onshore that Terry had spotted Bayla. Bayla had avoided capture and was trying to get away in one of the villages dugouts. As she paddled it away, one of Winslow’s thugs had spotted her. He’d fired a burst of ammunition in her direction and she’d been hit. With her down and the craft she was in drifting out to sea, the guard turned his attention back to the village that they were in the process of torching.

The dugout ended up drifting by the ‘Heather’ and Terry with regret had looked down into the small craft to take one last look at the girl that he’d presumed was dead. To his surprise, he found her alive, but wounded at the bottom of the craft. Terry in a moment of compassion saved the girl.

He hid her below deck on the ‘Heather’ and took care of her. Over time he’d learned her language and she’d learned his. Her injuries had proven minor, and with Terry’s care and attention, the girl had survived. Eventually they’d become lovers. The girl was still onboard the ‘Heather’, hidden at the moment, waiting for Terry’s return.

“Call her,” I told Terry once he was done telling me his story.

“It won’t work,” Terry responded with a sigh. “I’ve modified one of the forward storage compartments so that Bayla can hide in it whenever there is someone else onboard the sloop. She’ll stay there until I go back for her and I tell her it is safe for her to come out. It’s the only way I knew to protect her.”

I had no intentions of letting Terry back onboard the sloop, even with somebody guarding him. I had him dragged up to the big building to be kept until I needed to speak to him again. I then called Burton in with a couple of his recruits and one of Ruba’s squad mates. I sent the four of them out to the sloop to find the girl. Taking the Zodiac it didn’t take long. Once she was onshore, I had a quick chat with the girl. It turned out that everything Terry had told me was true.

“Tell me what is going to happen when you don’t show up back at base?” I asked Terry once I’d had him dragged back out to talk to me.

“I don’t know,” Terry admitted hesitantly. “I’ve never been overdue. I guess they’ll wait to see if I show up by tomorrow morning. If I don’t, they might send out a patrol and come looking for me. They’ll definitely come here. This was the only village I was supposed to visit today and by now I should be heading back to the base. Somebody will certainly ask questions, and most likely Winslow will be told. By tonight he’ll be pissed.”

I’d figured the same, but I wanted to hear it from the man’s lips before I based any planning on the idea. It meant that most likely someone from the base would come along early tomorrow morning to see why Terry hadn’t sailed home, or why he hadn’t answered his radio. His ship was completely fitted out with ship to shore communications and I was certain that someone would eventually radio him when he didn’t return. Then other people would get involved and a patrol would come out, and if I planned things properly, I’d eliminate a few more of Winslow’s thugs. The thought certainly put a smile on my face.

“You might live after all,” I told Terry as I turned my attention back to him. “For now I’ll keep you around as I might actually have a role for you. Cooperate and don’t give my people any problems and not only will you be alive when all of this is over, but you and your young friend can sail off on your own if you want to, or if you really want a better life, you can work for me. For now though, I’ve got people to talk to and a battle to plan. Can I truly trust you?”

“You can,” Terry told me firmly. “Now that I know who you are, and why you’re here I’ve got no problem throwing in with you. I’ve heard Winslow rant about that woman who went with you through the Gateway. He hates her for some reason that no one understands, but I know he’s willing to kill his own supporters if it means getting to her. Considering that point, and the fact that I’ve seen his thugs killing children, I won’t get in your way whatsoever. I’ll even help you bring him down if I can. All you need do is ask.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told him, giving him a dismissive nod towards where his young River girl was standing waiting for him. I’d already freed his bonds, so without further ado, he went off and joined the girl. Together they wandered back under the watchful eye of a guard to our camp. Once they were gone, I called Dunbar and Burton to me. It was time to plan an ambush.

First I needed to get rid of a body. Olaf had died of his wounds. Regrettably for him, no one felt anything for him. He’d allowed the slaughter of the village to the northeast, and according to Carmen the man had been a total bastard. When I found him dead in the big building, I had two hunters drag his corpse out of the village towards the north to leave it for scavengers to devour. Then I went and dealt with the village headman. I needed to speak to him first before I could deal with anything else.

The villagers were in a panic. They were afraid that my actions would bring about their peoples’ deaths, both those held by Winslow and his thugs, and those still living in the village. I did my best to reassure the village headman, but the old man was nearly frantic with fear and inconsolable. No matter what I told him, he wouldn’t listen. All he did was to keep begging me to leave. When I told him I would, but only after tomorrow, he just broke down and cried. It took a number of village women to come and take him back to his hovel and his mate. Once they had, the rest of the villagers returned to their own homes, quickly going back into hiding.

“That didn’t go over well,” Dunbar pointed out once we were on our own again. “What do you think? Will they attack us?”