“They will not release him, and they won’t let him into their society. Only those who found him and a few others will even know he exists. There is nothing we can do,” Bishop said in brutal honesty. “You need to start making preparations. They know people are out here now. They also know what direction to go to find them, and that it can’t be too far from where they were since they were on foot.”
“It’s something isn’t it,” Weston said in reply, “We try to find our way home, together with former enemies, and people from a foreign soil, only to find we are now the enemy of our own country.”
“That’s the reality you need to deal with. Nothing is the same, nor will it ever be again. It’s taken me a while to realize that, but it impresses itself upon me more each day.”
Weston nodded in understanding. “Why don’t you guys get some rest? I’ll have to talk to some of the men here and put together a plan. If you don’t mind, I’d like to solicit your input when we are finished.”
“Be glad to help,” Bishop said.
When he reached his temporary quarters, he saw the Smithy waiting for him―metal staff in hand. “It’s finished,” he said proudly as he held it out to Bishop. Instead of being polished steel, it was black. The surface was rough, and there were the telltale signs of points on each end just as Bishop had requested. The Smithy explained as Bishop was making his examination, “I thought it would only be a matter of time before it rusted on you so I coated it with a black epoxy resin I had. I also added some grit to it, so it will be a little rough on the hands until you get used to it. But I think you can manage.”
Bishop was surprised. It was a simple instrument but the damage it could do would be impressive, especially in his hands. He looked at it carefully, and then at the Smith, “I don’t know how to repay you for this,” Bishop said.
“No need. You brought in dinner the other day. We all do for each other what we can. If I need something, I’ll ask. The same goes for you. That is how we do things here.”
“Thank you.”
The two men shook hands as the Smith once again came up on the short end of their test of strength, before he went on his way. When Bishop went inside the house provided for him, he remembered he had not looked at the scratch marks on his leg since the day he received them. He pulled up his trousers to examine the cuts and noticed there was nothing to see other than some dried blood. He washed it away and saw there was no evidence of any wounds. He had not thought of it before, as he had experienced no pain from the time he was attacked. He knew he healed in ways that were not natural, but he did not think it was wise to push the envelope. He would help these people hold on to what they had. They were terribly outnumbered and outclassed when it came to the type of war that could be waged by his former men. He could only hope that they underestimated them enough to give him the advantage he would need.
TEN
The outpost at Bardin consisted of a small wood-framed building not far from the base of the trail. It served two purposes. One, was to draw uninvited visitors to it, the other was to cause those same visitors to circle away from it. It was not used, as most would assume; that is, as a place to house people. The warriors who guarded this limited access point into the valley were the most skilled. They rotated their duties on a regular basis. Many of them were those of giant stature. They were well armed and well prepared to handle whatever came their way. They were miles from Mezzo and thus had to be self-reliant. They worked in groups of eight men. They were armed with crossbows, longbows, knives, and spears. Most of them had the ability to see at night just as well as they could by day. They had encountered no intrusions from this trail for over a month. Tonight, that was going to change.
Sound carried well through the draw. They heard movement before they first saw them. They counted twenty men, dressed in protective suits, and armed with automatic rifles. As they made their way down to the valley‘s floor, they systematically disabled, or averted, each of the traps that were set on the trail. When they came near to the bottom, it was evident by their movements that they saw the building and were not surprised in finding it. Four men had moved in pairs to encircle it, while the others remained in the draw.
As soon as the soldiers started their assault on the structure, silent bolts from the large crossbows greeted them. The silence was broken when one of the falling soldiers pulled the trigger on his weapon. A burst of ammunition flew harmlessly into the air as he crashed into the ground, but the sound resonated clearly in the night. The remainder of the soldiers did not know what had happened, and were reluctant to move as they did not see anybody else in the area. They started using hand signals to communicate with one another as bright flashes rained in around them. At first, it was surreal when they noticed the flaming arrows and did not feel they posed any significant threat. That moment passed, however, when the reality of the danger set in. Everywhere in the draw, except for the path itself, there were piles of tumbleweeds, pine branches, and other brush scattered about. The fire soaked arrows quickly set the area ablaze. The pine branches were the worst with their pitch exploding as they succumbed to the flames.
With that came the smoke. Once they realized there was no place else to go and visibility was not on their side, they made their retreat as fast as they were able. Several members had suffered falls and burns as they were not able to escape the fire unscathed. They would now be exposed to the environment. When they reached the rim, there was only one decision that could be made. They would return to the mountain and report what had happened.
The sound of the automatic gunfire could be heard throughout the valley. When people came out of their homes, light from the raging fire could be seen reflecting off the night sky. When Bishop joined Weston and the others who were standing near him, he said, “I think you better get ready. It looks like it’s already starting.”
Weston agreed, having already decided that himself, “We’ll go to Mezzo at first light,” he said to those around him. “Sasha will set up defenses here, both from the outside, and inside, in case we have to give ground and fall back to here, and I will take eighty men along to Mezzo.”
The men understood and made preparations to leave. Not one of them slept that night.
All eight warriors watched their retreat. When they knew it would be impossible for the intruders to return, they went to the four bodies lying on the ground. They kept to a safe distance as they looked over the bodies. One of them was still alive with a bolt protruding from his shoulder. He was face down but still had his hand on his weapon. “We can see you are alive. If you try to move your weapon, you will be killed. It is your choice,” one of the warriors said.
The soldier remained still. He was not sure if they were telling the truth, or bluffing. He decided to stay still a while longer and see what would happen. That lasted until the moment he felt the point of a metal blade at the base of his skull.
“Alright, I give up,” he said as he lifted his hand away from the weapon.
They helped him to his feet, removed his tactical harness, and all other objects he carried. He complained about the movement and the pain it cause his shoulder. They were unconcerned. After that, they removed his headgear.
“Hey,” he protested,” I need that….”
“Not in here you don’t,” the same warrior said. He then turned to his men and instructed them to remove everything from the other bodies. The bodies themselves would eventually be taken to the rim, but the clothes and equipment would go to Mezzo with the prisoner. They tied his hands behind his back, soliciting even further cries of pain. Three of them were tasked to transport the prisoner, and the other supplies to the village, while the others remained to secure the area.