Chapter 19 - Convergence

Four days into her ride, a column of smoke caught Sara’s attention. It was off to the north. The wide, trampled path of disturbed earth she was following still led west, straight to the rising mountains in front. A choice faced her now.

She had run out of food yesterday, even ate the last of the hard tack. Ahead lay the enemy army and probably food to steal. The weal of dirt seemed fresh, maybe a day old. But the rising black smoke raised her hackles. It poured into the sky, fresh from what had caused it. She had to check.

She diverted, spear at ready.

A smoldering ruin greeted her. This farmstead ranked as the biggest one she had seen. There were several large buildings still intact. Animal smells came from them.

She went to the largest one. It was painted red. In front of a hanging door pulled aside was a large pile of flesh much too big to be a human. It had short, wiry red-brown hair covering it and a line of long black hair from a long sagging, blunt head to a thick blob with four thin appendages. Its eyes twitched open when she approached.

Sara’s stomach turned. Maggie stamped her hooves. It was a horse. Spear in hand, she drove it through the flattened head where the brain would be. Sliding off Maggie, she retched and casually wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve. She turned and went toward the burned out shell of the house.

Reconnoitering the husk of the two-story building and the grounds around it didn’t reveal anybody alive. She turned her attention to the out buildings. There were animal puddles. Only one more was still alive which Sara helped along. She turned back to the barn.

There were stalls in the barn where she encountered the horse. A saddle, presumably for the horse, hung on the dividing wall. She didn’t hesitate to take it. Surveying the quiet building had her shaking. She stood there until her hands loosened. A cold, hard feeling encased her heart. She was so tired but she couldn’t rest now, not yet.

Mounting a properly saddled Maggie was much easier now. She circled the compound. She had gotten better at reading the signs in the grass during her time wandering on the plains. There was a trail leading away toward the distant mountains. Grimly, she followed it, tensing at every rustle of the grass.

Night fell. A light snow drifted down, making the darkness silent. She couldn’t see the trail on the ground but she had a good idea where they were going. She wagered it was heading toward the peak where the main trail lead. Her bet was rewarded with a bright spark on the horizon. The end of the line.

Sara dismounted and crept the distance to it, leaving Maggie behind. Beyond the firelight, she crouched in the dried stalks of grass.

Four men and a lugger sat around a fire, eating.

“I’m telling ya, this should be the next place.”

“No, she has plans already. It’s all in good time.”

“We should tell her all about it.”

“Lystra’s already broke camp. We need to catch up as quickly as possible. She’ll want to winter there.”

“Then why she sent us off? It’s been fun but we gots lots to do.” A man with his back to her got up and dumped the remains of dinner out.

The second man spoke. “We’re scouting, learning where everything is, taking care of any minor problem. Did you forget about that town probably joining us without a fight? They didn’t have a See-Oh.”

“Ya really think they’d throw in with us?” A different man spoke.

“We’ll tell Lystra, let her decide. She can start up in the spring.” The man turned and flung the remains of his bowl toward Sara. Sara caught a glimpse of his face before ducking into the grass. It was a cold, narrow face with a thin beard on his chin. He had an O tank.

He continued without missing a beat. “I want us to get back before the fireworks start. We’ll get up early tomorrow.” He stood up. “Emer, you have first watch. George, next. Larry, you’re last.”

Two of the men picked up their spears and opened bedrolls by the fire. Emer, apparently, got his spear and stood facing away from the fire. Sara peeked over the top of the grass. He was surveying the darkness and walking around the camp.

The lugger was lying down with his back to the fire.

The man who had assigned the watches brought out something gleaming white. He was inspecting it, turning it over in his hands. Satisfied, he put it away in a pouch on his belt. He looked at each of the men and went over by the lugger to sleep.

Sara was pretty sure the man inspected a box.

Anger and bile rose in her. She felt a rictus spread on her face. She backed away and went to Maggie.

Rummaging through the packs, she took out a slab of soft putty, broke off a piece and molded it into an egg. She pushed rocks into yielding surface and got one of the short time fuses out and stuck it on it. She stripped off her coats, her dress, her layers, down to her bra, leaving her belly hanging over the waist of her shorts. Daubing some dirt stripes on her face, arms, and protruding stomach, she made ready. It was cold but she needed to be able to move freely for what was next.

She draped her unused clothes on Maggie. She planned on needing them in a bit. A shake of the head, arms, and legs followed. She tucked the grenade into her pants’ pouch. The belt went around her shoulder and she grabbed her spear. Time to get moving.

The fire still burned bright. Emer was feeding it some sticks and grass to keep it going. Sara shivered in the cold. Waiting for him to go near the sleeping forms took all her willpower.

There! He had circled around to them. She stood up, twisted the fuse and lobbed her package at them. Light caught it as it thudded into the ground in between the sleepers and the lugger.

Emer was looking right at her. His jaw hung open. “Aaaah! A demon from Gaia!”

Sara dropped. She clutched her spear. The die was cast.

The explosion was really loud. It rocked the ground. Screams in the night followed. She was up and sprinting toward them in silence, red hair flowing behind her. She was a demon, a demon of vengeance.

Emer lay on the ground in a puddle of dark liquid. The lugger’s back was a ruined mess, torn and missing chunks. Another man sat, arms out in a slumped pyramid, missing part of his head.

There was a man standing, spear clutched in his hands. His eyes were wide with fear. She charged him, lunged at him with her spear. His body formed a “C” dodging the thrust to his midsection. He swung the shaft of the spear at her head. A quick duck and it flew over her. She readied another thrust.

Something made a sound behind her. Sara jumped and rolled, came up on her feet. Her opponent started a scream which became a wet, gurgling sound.

She spun around, arm cocked with the spear. The leader stood behind the mass of the lugger with a small, white box in his hand. He fiddled with something on the box. Sara threw the spear at him. The spear sailed through the space he had occupied.

Sara ripped the belt off her shoulder and leapt to the large corpse. The man stood up and brought his box around to aim at her.

She screamed at him and whipped the belt around. He smiled and his hand reached up to grab the belt. She pressed the jewel on the hilt as it whipped through the gap between them. The man’s smile disappeared as the now sword became rigid and sizzled as it went through the air. His mouth opened in an “O” while he put the arm with the box up to block her attack.

A spray of blood, bright red, followed the arc of the swordbelt. A white box about the half the size of a brick flew out of his detached hand. Forearm gone, he dropped to his knees, screaming, clutching his useless arm to his chest. Blood pulsed out on his shirt, on the ground.

Sara stepped over the dead shield body.

“Mercy!” he cried. His stump flapped against his side leaving crimson streaks. He leaned back, away from her, other hand on the ground behind him, patting the dirt.

She hesitated, sword arm lifted, ready to stab.

The man’s face contorted. “Die, breeder!” He clumsily jabbed her spear at her belly.

Without thinking, Sara twisted, grabbed the haft, used it to pull herself closer and swung the sword. The blade contacted just below his shoulder and exited the other side at an angle. The man looked surprised while he fell apart.

Sara deactivated the belt and leaned over, panting, hands on her knees. With gritted teeth, she rubbed her belly.

* * *

She arrived the next day at the last Cloister on her map, the churned dirt path ending at the plain before the town. Her stomach growled. A large number of men drilled in the ugly slush in front of the gate, churned by their maneuvers. This was an organized militia. This had to be Lystra’s army.

Grinding her teeth, she thought about what to do. Probably not going to be welcomed with open arms given the attitudes she had encountered. Her hand went to her pregnant belly, absentmindedly rubbing it.

She knew Brewer just had to be there. Probably in need of a rescue, the goody two shoes.

A disguise. Definitely needed a disguise. Not as a woman though. The idiot in the chemical plant had indicated you could “join” if you brought something valuable. That was a problem. She had a lot of very valuable things and didn’t want any of them to fall into Lystra’s hands.

Maggie snuffled.

She patted the horse’s neck. “Great idea, Maggie!”

Sara stood in the saddle, looking across to the mountains beyond. Some hills rose in the distance. A line of trees could be seen, close to the town.

She rode down the hillock overlooking the town and prepared to ride around.

* * *

There was a glen on the far side of the town, hidden from view of the walls. That’s all that mattered. Sara tied Maggie to a bush in the middle of the clearing. There was grass under the snow for her to munch on. She took her bridal gift off the horse and dragged it to the hollow of a fallen tree. She went through her packs and took out several items. She took half of the explosive putty, in case she had to make an escape, and a few different timer fuses.

She pulled off of her dress. It was cold. She wrapped her chest tight with strips from a blanket and pulled a tunic on. The belt would be visible over her stomach, uncomfortable as it was. With her hair tied up, dirt on face, if nobody looked too hard, she could pass for a man. A short, slight man with a bit of a belly. If she waited for the moon to set, it would probably be better for her.

Marker out, she drew some random barcode and wrote “Chemist” on the inside of her left wrist. That was difficult, using the wrong hand and upside down, but it got done. She stared at it for a second.

One last thing to take care of. She took out the horrible box that melted bones. Activating her belt, she cut the module in two. Satisfied, she put it in a sack with the other items she was taking.

Rubbing Maggie’s nose, she said, “I’ll be back.”

Throwing the rucksack over her shoulder, she picked up the spear and marched out of the glen. She surveyed the field of white before her. A blanket of snow covered everything. She reappraised her decision to wait for the moon to set even if it was better cover for her. The gates might be closed. She started across the fields to the town gate. Her heart drummed a staccato beat with each step.

The main gate was open. A couple of guards leaned against the sides of the passageway, a fire in braziers on either side casting light on the snow. They grabbed their spears and stood warding the door when they saw her approaching.

“Halt. Why you here?” The guard on the right pointed his spear at her.

“I want to join up.”

“Betcha do. We don’t just allow anyone in. Dems the rulez. Watcha got?”

“Pardon?”

“Youse gots to have sumting valuable to contribyute. Before we’s lets you in.”

“Oh, right. I have this.” She dug in the bag and pulled out the ruined box. Her hand outstretched with both pieces on it.

The man lowered his spear and stepped up to look at her offering.

The other man’s spear tip also pointed down as he too came up to her hand. He leaned in over the pieces. “Is that...”

“Shaddup. Where you get that?”

Sara said, “That’s my valuable. I don’t just tell you. I tell someone important.”

A scowl formed on the man’s face. The flickering torchlight gave him a red, evil look. Sara stood firm.

“I can’t let you in.”

“No, but I can.” A voice from the darkness beyond called out. A handsome man stepped forward and smiled. His teeth gleamed in the ruddy light. He had an O tank on his side. A holster was on his hip. The ugliest man Sara had ever seen stood behind him, spear in hand.

“Cap’n Merrill?” said the now flustered guard.

“I’ll handle it. Boy, let me see what you have there.”

Sara tried to take normal steps toward him. She regretted marking herself as a chemist. Should have done farmer. Or even brewer. She held her hand up to the Captain, willed it into steadiness.

He plucked the two halves out of her palm. She dropped her hand to her side, hiding her markings.

The ugly man stood next to the Captain, inspecting the pieces in the Captain’s hands.

The Captain said, “What do you think, James? Looks like Chuck’s.”

“Aye, it does. Sez RAM on it. Looks like he met a sticky end.”

The Captain nodded. He looked down at Sara, transfixing her with his gaze. “What happened? Boy?”

In her lowest register, Sara answered, “I was walking, looking to join with Lystra when I smelled smoke. I followed my nose and saw a bunch of bodies. There was a dead lugger on the ground. Another guy was face down. Blood everywhere. One guy was missing part of his head. There was a pile of something human, I think.” Sara shuddered. “It had clothes on.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Chuck’s work. Go on,” said the Captain.

Sara nodded. “Right. On the other side of the lugger was a man. Well, he was in a couple of pieces, like something sliced through him. There was an O tank on him. I figured he must have been important. His arm was cut off. That,” she pointed at the box in the Captain’s hands, “was next to him. I picked it up, along with this spear. There were tracks going north.”

“Let me see that spear.” He handed the box pieces to James.

Despite the cold, sweat beaded along Sara’s neckline and ran into her shirt. She held the spear out. Her hand was shaking.

The Captain didn’t seem to notice. He casually took the spear and examined it. He held the tip close to his face. The metal from it glinted in the light. “Yeah, that’s northern metalwork. So much for them joining up. What did you do?”

Sara swallowed. “Me? I got outta there. Didn’t want to meet whatever did that to them.”

“First sensible thing you’ve done. What’s your name?”

“Sa...Garo.”

“Sagaro? Okay, Sagaro. That buys you in.” He handed the spear back to her. “Keep this. It’s a good spear.” He pointed down the road. “Go down this road, past the shops and houses. Just before you reach a big building, there’s a smaller one. Check in there. Tell them Captain Merrill sent you for processing. You’ll get a chit for food and beer. Come on, James, get everyone else going. We’ve wasted enough time here.” The Captain strode onto the snow-covered field.

James grunted and waved behind him. There was movement in the shadows. Two luggers and two men came through the door. They followed the captain.

Sara’s knees stopped shaking. She straightened up, waved once at the door guards and went into town.

* * *

Beer! There is beer here! Brewer has to be nearby. She knew it in the deeps of her soul. She stood in front of the small building, weighing her options. She had no intention of “checking in”. The plan was to find Brewer and get the hell out. Her skin crawled from having to be in Lystra’s camp.

Her attention turned to the large building next door. It was a hive of activity, even at this late hour. Sara wandered over to it and peeked inside. There were tanks and vats and pipes, mostly assembled. A tall, skinny H was in the middle of the activity. It looked like a baby chemical plant to her.

A whiff of what was going on reached her nose. She stifled a gasp. The speartip dropped. It was a cereal smell with the smell of hops. It was the smell of beer. She had found the brewery.

Mouth half open, she took a few steps inside and started looking around. A woman with faded bruises pointed at her. A man with an O tank and bound book in his hands turned his head. The pair of them walked toward her.

“Can we help you?” the man said.

Sara chewed on her thoughts for a moment before answering in her manly voice. “I’m looking for someone. I thought he might be here.”

The two looked at each other, then at her.

“Be ya Sara?” said the woman.

Sara’s heart skipped a beat. She turned to run.

“Wait! Brewer, he’s told us all ‘bout ya.”

Sara stopped. She turned to face them. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded the pair, her hand tightening on the haft. “Who are you? Where is Brewer?”

They both got crestfallen expressions.

The woman motioned at her. “Ach, come here, honey. We needs ta talk.”

* * *

Reba favored an arm as she poured tea in the office Everett had been using while getting the brewery running.

“You took a very foolish chance coming here. Lystra doesn’t exactly like pregnant women.” Everett sat behind his desk, studying her. “That’s not a very good disguise. You got very lucky.”

“Don’t listen to him, dearie. You were verra brave.”

Sara’s blood ran cold at the thought of Captain Merrill discovering her secret. “I’m really grateful that I ran into you two first. But where’s Brewer? I haven’t seen him.” She took the offered teacup.

The two looked at each other again. Sara was starting to get annoyed by that habit. “Well? I’d like to hurry and get going as quickly as possible.”

The man cleared his throat. “The thing is ...”

“He’s in Lystra’s tent,” interrupted the woman.

Sara’s mind flipped-flopped. She put the teacup down. “I see.” She stood, looking for her spear.

“ThankyousomuchfortheteaIhaveto...”

“He was taken hostage. His life is in danger every second he’s in there. There’s no telling what’s been happening to him. We’ve been worried sick the whole time. We’re trying to figure out how to rescue him, maybe ransom him.” Everett’s head hung down.

“Oh. OH.” Sara plopped back down in the chair. Her mouth hardened into a thin line. “Where’s Lystra’s tent?”

Everett brought his head up. Incredulous eyes trained on her. “You can’t just walk into her tent! There are guards, the Captains, the Handmaidens, Lystra herself.”

Sara leveled her gaze at him.

“I have the means. And a plan.”