Chapter 7

I did the early morning shift again that night. I woke and then went about checking our perimeter. I’d put out snares again before heading off to bed, and again we got lucky. This morning we had five plump bunnies waiting to go into our pot. I dealt with them after checking out the village from my observation post. I found it still asleep, with only the one guard standing his post at the front gate with two wolf-dogs keeping him company. Seeing nothing to give me concern, I headed back up to camp and I got our breakfast going.

I decided to risk a fire. I’d dug our fire pit quite deep in the centre of camp. I had sited it in a manner that it was on the back slope of the hill that we were on. I hoped those precautions and the use of dry wood would limit the chances of anyone down in the village spotting the flames. It would also help that we were technically northeast of the village, and the new day’s sun was rising over head. That would certainly help blind our location from anyone looking in our direction.

We ate and then packed up and prepared to head out. Before leaving to head to the village, we all went down to the observation post to have one last look before we paid it a visit. Clara and Gabby hadn’t seen it yet, so I felt it would be a good idea for them to have a look at the layout, before walking into the place. It just might keep them alive.

To our surprise we found a bit of excitement going on, down below us. A quick scan of the area showed us that the three hunters who we’d sent back with Tagar’s body had finally shown up. They were limping sore footedly, up the sloping path that led up from the valley floor to the gate into the village. One man was walking in the lead and the other two were carrying Tagar’s corpse suspended between them. They looked tired and miserable and it appeared at least to me that they were not looking forward to their homecoming. Seeing the three men and Tagar’s corpse put a change into our plans. I decided to wait and watch and see what happened next. Then depending on how Hagar reacted, we would act against him.

Hagar didn’t react well. The three men delivered Tagar’s body to the central hearth and then laid it down. The two younger men who’d done the grunt work stepped aside and basically left the spokesman of the group to deliver my message all on his own. By the time Hagar had made his appearance at the top of the central hearth, most of the villagers were up and out of their huts, anxious to see what was going on. Surprisingly, once many of the men in the village saw that it was Tagar’s body lying on the ground, they turned and hustled their women and children back into their huts. It was clear message that the men were dreading Hagar’s reaction. Most were still bickering with their mate when Hagar started bellowing.

We could actually hear his voice in the cool early morning air. We couldn’t make out what he was saying, precisely, but it was clear that he was pissed off. I found myself smiling in response to that.

It didn’t take long for any of us to realize that the message had been delivered. Hagar lost it. He started shouting even louder than he had before. It made the man who’d delivered the message cringe in response. Hagar’s shouting drew others into the area of the central hearth. One man was older and dressed in buckskins that were definitely better quality than what most of the villagers were wearing. The other person who showed up was a younger man. He was dressed much like most of the men, however when he had appeared, the new arrival was carrying a club. A quick question to Gort provided me answers to both men’s identities. The well dressed one was Bolo, the village shaman. The one with the club was Zolar, one of Hagar’s chief advisors. With that knowledge I went back to watching what was going on.

Matters devolved quickly. Hagar stomped around the central hearth towards the messenger. He physically shoved the messenger out of the way. Both Bolo and Zolar were on Hagar’s heels. The shaman actually knelt down and he looked at the body. Zolar just hefted his club and glared at the other men in the village. Hagar yelled at everyone including the two men with him.

The messenger must have said something in reply to whatever Hagar was screaming, because Hagar attacked him. It was a complete explosion of uncontrolled anger at the other man. He hit him openhandedly, striking the messenger on the chest, the arms, and the face. The messenger did nothing to protect himself. He just took the abuse as best he could. While Hagar did this, Zolar glared ominously at the other men in the village, many of whom appeared to be on the brink of exploding in rage as well.

It came to a head when a child ran out from a hut armed with a small spear. The kid went straight to Hagar. Zolar shouted a warning and Hagar reacted in time. He shifted and moved before the kid could get to him. Then he slapped the kid aside. The kid went flying backwards with the impact of Hagar’s backhand. His small spear went one way while he ended up sprawled on the ground at the messenger’s feet. The messenger moved to pick the boy up, and Hagar turned and attacked the messenger again. This time he struck the man with a closed fist. The blow must have caught him right because it put the man down on the ground.

That caused a stir. The men of the village started to protest. One man stepped forward to speak and he was promptly silenced by Zolar’s club. Before anyone else could react, Hagar started yelling again. By now Zolar was joined by two more men, both of whom were carrying spears. They placed themselves between Hagar and the crowd.

Hagar paid very little attention to this. His focus was on the fallen man and the boy. The man tried to get back to his feet, but he never got a chance. Hagar pounced on him as the man found his knees and Hagar beat the man across his back with his clenched fists. The blows staggered the man and he collapsed on more into a heap on the ground. Then Hagar turned on the boy. He grabbed the boy by his long, lanky hair and he pulled the kid to his feet. The kid screamed in protest. He tried to resist Hagar, but Hagar was a man and the boy was just a boy. Hagar held him tightly in his grip and then shouted something at the crowd that made them all fall silent and turn pale. Hagar just bellowed some more.

A woman dashed forward at that point. She was a small, dark haired woman. She ran up to Hagar and she dropped to her knees as if to plead with him for mercy. I actually believed that was what she was doing. Hagar took no heed of her. He just spat in her face and then gave her a good kick in the stomach with his foot. The woman buckled over in response and Hagar just laughed and then he turned away, dragging the boy by the hair as he went. The boy started to wail frantically for help.

Hagar ignored the boy’s struggles and his cries for help. In fact it appeared that the boy’s cries were going unheeded by everyone in the village including the village shaman and the messenger who had recovered enough from his beating to regain his knees. While the man looked on in horror, he held himself back, restrained by the hand of the shaman and whatever words the shaman was speaking to him. I was really getting pissed at that point and I was about to act myself when matters got even worse. The woman pulled herself up and she threw herself at Hagar as he stood by the central hearth slowly lifting the boy in hand, raising him off the ground ever so slowly as the child continued to scream and cry out.

The woman leapt at Hagar and she scratched his exposed back and arms with her fingernails. She clawed at him in an attempt to free the boy. Hagar’s reaction was to spin about and backhand the woman with his free hand. The woman went flying backwards again, this time very violently. She landed hard on the ground and didn’t get back up. The messenger tried to get to his feet again by the shaman held him back. The crowd milled about restlessly but no one moved to interfere. Hagar just ranted some more and then turned back to the kid.

As Hagar lifted the kid into the air again he pulled a knife out of the waist of his loincloth. It was clear what he intended to do. The kid had challenged Hagar. That was why the men weren’t getting involved. This was a fight between a headman and his challenger. It wasn’t there place to interfere in such a fight, even if the fight was totally one sided. Hagar was going to kill the boy. With that realization sinking in I chambered a round into my sniper rifle and then I lit Hagar up. From where we were watching the range was just over fifteen hundred yards. I wasn’t a sniper by training, but I knew how to take a shot. That’s what I did. I took the shot. Hagar dropped dead.

No one stopped us from entering the village. Even an hour later the place was unsettled and people were too confused about what had happened to actually pay attention to their surroundings. It was only when we were all through the gate and standing there did anyone notice us. Then there was even more confusion and chaos.

The men of the village came forward the moment they realized that they had uninvited guests. They came bearing spears. I found it interesting that Zolar and his two buddies weren’t in the group. For a moment I wondered where they’d gotten off to, but I didn’t waste much concern on them at the moment. I’d deal with them once I’d dealt with the welcoming committee. I did note that the Shaman was there as were the two men who’d dragged Tagar’s back from where I’d killed it. I nodded in their direction when I spotted them. Surprisingly they both nodded back.

“Who are you?” the Shaman demanded to know as he forced himself free of the mob and he stepped forward to confront me. “You are not welcome here.”

I ignored the man. Instead I turned to Gort and asked him in a low voice who the two men who’d carried Tagar back were called. He told me, replying in a whisper so that the Shaman couldn’t hear what we were talking about. It was obviously pissing the man off.

The man opened his mouth to ask the question again of me, but I silenced him by raising my hand and speaking instead.

“Ask Durt or Zedar who I am,” I told the shaman flatly. “They will tell you what you want to know.”

It pissed the shaman off to hear me speak to him this way, but the fact that I knew two hunters of the village by name made matters different. Glancing over at the two younger men, the shaman demanded to know who I was and what I was doing here with the son and daughter of the old chief. He didn’t even mention Clara and Gabby. They weren’t that important to him.

Durt and Zedar told their story with some reluctance. They did however speak it loudly enough that everyone could hear what they said, including my group. Many of the men in the group took a pace back when Durt described how I had killed Tagar. Others looked concerned when Zedar explained that I was there to confront Hagar and to take everything that was his to take. The shaman in particular looked really annoyed at that statement. He was about to say something when someone else in the group decided to drop the bombshell and tell me that Hager was dead, implying that I was late in claiming my revenge.

“I know,” I responded loudly and forcefully, making certain that my voice carried. “I killed him from a far. I tore his heart out and left his ruined body lying cold before the central hearth of this village.”

My declaration took everyone by surprise. Of the gathered men only Durt and Zedar believed my words. They had seen Clara strike down Tagar from a far and for me to do the same to Hagar only made sense to them. The others there were of mixed opinion. They all knew that it was impossible for me to know how Hagar had died. I’d put a .50-calibre round through his chest ripping his heart out in the process, after which the impact of the round had sent him sprawling on his back dead before the hearth that I’d just mentioned. My knowledge of the fact caused them some concern for that had happened an hour ago and I hadn’t been here. Still none were willing to accept my word for it.

“How did you do this feat?” the shaman asked. “With what magic did you steal Hagar’s heart and take his spirit to the after world?”

I shook my head and sighed.

“You really don’t want to see how I do it,” I told the man bluntly. “If I show you, then I must take you life as well. Simply accept what I have told you as fact. Now step aside. I am here for Ramie and Catta and Catta’s daughter, Atta. I will take them and everything that was Hagar’s and everything that was Tagar’s. Then I will leave and bother you no more.”

Again there was mix of emotions displayed by the crowd. Some people actually stepped aside, including Durt and Zedar. Others including the shaman stood their ground.

“Why should you take what was Hagar’s and Tagar’s?” the shaman asked. “You are not of this village. You have no rights here. Go and leave us or we will drive you away.”

I shook my head in reply and sighed openly letting everyone know that I was displeased. Then I looked the shaman in the eye and spoke to him.

“Will you fight me?” I asked him coldly. “Will you let me spill your blood on the village ground and send your spirit to the darkness of the after world? Let me pass and do not interfere in what I intend to do, or you will be the first to die. This I promise you.”

My words, my stance, and my tone of voice stunned the shaman and those still backing him up. For a moment none of the men did anything but stand there, blinking in disbelief. Only after a second or two did they respond. Then one by one the men of the village started to drift away. In the end only the shaman was left standing there staring at me, and even he turned and left after realizing that he was now facing me alone. I watched him slink away and then told the others it was time to get to work. We were there for a reason and once that was achieved we’d be leaving as quickly as we could. Naturally I led the way. Clara and Gabby trailed behind me, both carrying there survival weapon at the ready.

“Let’s be quick about this,” I reminded the others, sticking to the local language so that everyone understood what I was saying. It was easier that way. “And while you’re at it, be careful. No going where I can’t see you. If something has to be fetched from a hut, get a local to do it for you. I don’t want any accidents happening. Gort, call your mother!”

Both Hagar and Tagar had been left lying by the central hearth. Not one person had bothered shifting them. I could understand why given the manner in which Hagar had died. I imagined that regardless of what I’d told the shaman and the rest of the men, all of the villagers probably imagined that a spirit had taken Hagar’s life. With no knowledge of modern firearms it made sense. It hadn’t been the way I’d wanted to kill the man, but now it was done and as far as I was concerned Hagar wasn’t worth a second thought, by me or anyone else. Still his corpse was cluttering up the common area of the village and I didn’t care for that. It was definitely time to take out the trash. I was about to call out to whoever might be listening when Gort and Unna ran up towing a small, dark haired woman behind them.

“Jake,” Unna declared excitedly, “this is Ramie, my mother. Tell her she is safe now and that she must come with you.”

My breath caught in my through when I turned and looked at Ramie. I had heard Gort and Unna describe their mother. To them she was beautiful, and to be honest, I’m sure she was. Unfortunately the woman I was introduced to wasn’t. It wasn’t her fault. She looked to be black and blue from the top of her head, to at least her thighs. Her hair was matted, her skin was covered in abrasions, and she was filthy. She was wearing a deerskin kilt and that was it. It pained me to look at her. I guess she saw the pain in my eyes. Ramie started to cry. God I felt like a total heel.

“Do not cry, Ramie,” I told the woman in a soft, reassuring voice. “You are the mother of my best hunter and my best forager. I am honoured to meet you and to welcome you my tribe. No one will make you come and live in our cave, but there will always be a place at my hearth for you. Please say that you will leave this place and come join us in the life we are making for ourselves.”

Ramie sobbed even louder at that, but at the same time she nodded her head, giving her assent. I took that as a good sign.

“Good,” I told the woman firmly and enthusiastically. “You have made me happy. I have been told by Gort that you were a headman’s mate and a good helper. I will need your services, today. I do not intend to stay in this village long. I want you to gather Catta and Atta and anyone else who Hagar or Tagar held by force as mates or children, and bring them to greet me. I will ask them to come with us as well. Then, once we know how many there are who wish to leave this place, I will need a wise helper to collect the furs and skins that belonged to Hagar and Tagar, along with everything they owned and possessed including food, clothing, and weapons; so it all can be carried away.”

Amazingly my tone and manner with Ramie brought a halt to her crying. Given purpose, Ramie’s back stiffened and she stood a little taller.