The Miscreant (8 page)

Cyril climbed atop the kitchen wagon. “Listen up. We have one more recruiting group out, but I’m going to make my speech anyway. I’ll repeat it when they get here so you hard-headed louts can hear it twice and get it into your thick skulls. This is a work camp. That means you will work. You will do what you’re told when you’re told to do it. You see all this food these ladies have cooked up? Smells good, don’t it? If you want to eat, you will work. If you don’t work, you don’t eat. Pretty damn simple, isn’t it? Cause my men or me problems and you don’t eat. Are you seeing a pattern? Good. If you forget, your bellies will surely remind you. Cause violence to my men or your fellow workers and you won’t eat, and you will feel the sting of the lash across your backs. Are there any questions?”

Garran raised his hand. “What was the second thing again?”

Cyril grinned. “There’s always a clever one in the bunch. I had a hunch it would be you. Clever boys tend to go hungry. Best you remember that. I’m sure you have all heard about the attacks on some of the other camps. Working the road is a dangerous job, and I won’t lie by telling you it ain’t. Men get injured and killed during the job without the help of these raiders. It’s the duty of every man here to stay vigilant and defend the camp if it comes to it. Maybe you don’t have the kind of spirit or integrity of a soldier fighting for a cause, but I have to think even the lowest of you will fight for your own life, and you might just have to do it.”

The camp commander pointed to a man standing in front of a wagon with a boxed-in carriage bed. “That man is Henri Pasternak, my quartermaster. All you new recruits line up so he can issue you your bedrolls and tents. Once you set up your camp, we’ll serve chow.”

Garran got in line, taking a step forward every few seconds as the men received their basic issue and picked out an open plot of ground to set up camp. The quartermaster shoved a bundle into Garran's arms without a word. He carried his burden to a spot beneath a tree, unrolled the parcel wrapped in canvas, and inventoried its contents.

Colin trudged up next to him and held up a trapezoidal section of oiled canvas. “This doesn't look big enough to make a tent.”

“It's a shelter half,” Garran answered. “You lace it together with someone else's half. It cuts down on the load each man must carry. My old logging crew used them sometimes.”

“Good idea. So, you want to bunk up?”

“Sure. We'll set up here beneath this tree.”

Colin looked at the ground. “We're on a bit of a slope.”

“You want to be. It's going to rain tonight. We'll dig a shallow trench around the tent so the water will channel off downhill. Those idiots set up in the low ground near the wagons are going to be soaked come morning.”

“Should we tell them?”

Garran shook his head. “Most won't listen, and the ones who do will just crowd us. I'd rather not sleep next to a bunch of murderers and rapists.”

Frank and another man approached as Garran and Colin set up their tent and began digging a gutter around it.

“I see you boys have some experience living outdoors,” Frank said.

“Garran does,” Colin answered. “I would have set up down there with the others.”

Frank nodded at the trench. “You think it's going to rain?”

“There are clouds gathering just beyond the eastern range. You can smell the moisture in the air. I also have a sensitive inner ear, and I can feel the pressure building.”

“I've had a few men like you on my caravans. They saved us from getting wet a few times.” He tilted his head at the other man. “This is Wilton. He's another Free Trader set up by The Guild. We'll pitch our tent over there so we don't crowd you. You look like the type who likes his space.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Garran and Colin finished setting up and headed toward the chow wagon. There was already a line formed. Looking at the haphazard layout of most of the camp, Garran was not surprised to find so many men ahead of them. Most of these workers were criminals, and like most criminals, they were city-born. They knew nothing of the hardships of outdoor survival, and Garran had no inclination to educate them. Nature would be a far better teacher than he would.

He took a tin plate from a stack on a table. The line split into three just past the table where one woman passed out bread while the others scooped stew from cauldrons suspended over cookfires. Garran and Colin chose one at random and shuffled onward. The young woman dug deep into the cauldron with her ladle and smiled at Garran as she dropped a generous helping of stew onto his plate.

She was fetching but not beautiful and a few years older than him. Garran smiled back at her and made to walk on but stopped short when the man in front of him failed to move. He looked up into the scowling face of a large, ugly man with a grizzled face and several missing teeth.

“What the hell is this?” the man demanded. “You’re gonna trade plates with me!”

Garran’s brows nearly collided as he scowled back at him. “The hell I am.”

“It weren’t a request, and you’ll give me that plate if you know what’s good for you.”

The serving girl dunked her ladle into the pot and brought up another scoop. “Please, I’m sorry, here’s more.”

“Hey, one serving per man!” someone shouted just behind Garran.

“Mind your own damn business!” the thug snapped.

Cyril pushed through the bodies that were about to become a mob. “What is the problem here?”

The ugly man sneered at the serving girl. “That whore gave this whelp three pieces of meat and me only one. It ain’t fair.”

“Dominic Mercier, isn’t it?” The man nodded and grunted. “That’s the way it works out sometimes. Take your plate and move out.”

“I’m a big man, and I need more than watered vegetables!”

Dominic lunged at Garran and tried to grab his plate. Garran leapt back, and Cyril put his dagger between him and the angry man.

“If you don’t like your dinner then don’t eat it, but you’re holding up the line for other hungry men.”

As with most stupid people, the man’s anger overruled his sense, and he hurled his plate at the camp commander. “If you like it, then you can eat it!”

Cyril calmly plucked the solitary chunk of beef caught in the neck of his shirt and dropped it onto Garran’s plate. “It looks like you have four pieces now, Mr. Holt.” He turned back to the gap-toothed convict. “As for you, your little tantrum just cost you your breakfast as well. Perhaps your empty belly will prove to be a better decision-maker than that ugly gob on your neck.”

The man looked ready to strike him, but Cyril waggled his blade and he thought better of it.

“You best watch your back, boy. You both best watch your backs.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Mercier? Threats to me or my men will get you whipped. If you’re foolish enough to try and make good on it, I’ll stretch your neck from one of these trees and feed you to my dogs. Do I make myself clear?”

Dominic scowled, spun around, shoved through some onlookers, and stalked off. The commander casually flicked chunks of vegetables from his leather jerkin. The man’s cool demeanor impressed Garran. Most people he knew would be enraged and use their authority to severely punish such an affront.

“Mr. Holt,” Cyril said, “you are holding up my line. Take your food and go, or join Mr. Mercier in hunger.”

Garran looked at the serving girl, who gave him an apologetic smile, and walked in the opposite direction of Dominic. He had no doubt the man would make good on his threat, at least to him, if given the chance. Colin hastened beside him.

“I thought that man was going to kill you.”

“The day’s not over.”

“Do you think he’ll try something?”

Garran shrugged. “I would, and I’m not a criminal. Not a real one.”

Colin looked around, eyes wide and searching as if Dominic might spring from the bushes at any moment. “What are you going to do?”

“Not much to do until it happens.”

“You don’t seem afraid. I would be crapping my pants if that monster wanted to kill me.”

“I’ve seen people waste a lot of time and energy on fear, and not once did I see it do any good or change the outcome. My mother always said there was something wrong with me. Maybe she was right.”

Colin stared into his half-eaten plate of food. “I still can’t believe our parents sold us into bondage. Do you think they knew how dangerous it was, that bandits are attacking the work camps and killing everyone?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it mattered to them. I for one am not going to wait around for death to come. Not from Dominic and not from bandits.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get the hell out of here, what you think I’m going to do?”

“There are like fifty soldiers on horseback, and they have dogs!”

“Yeah, I’ll probably need your help.”

“The commander said he whips anyone who tries to run off!”

“Would you rather some bandit cuts you down? I don’t know about you, but I’ll take a whipping over death any day. Then again, I’ve probably received a lot more whippings than you and am used to them by now.” Garran saw the shadow of doubt hanging over Colin. “Look, it’s not going to be today or even tomorrow. I need to watch them, see how they move and react, before I can even begin to form a plan. It’s all about the three shuns.”

“The three shuns?”

“Inspiration, information, and preparation. With them, a man can do almost anything or anyone. There’s a fourth one, fornication, but I don’t think it will be necessary. If it does, that’s where you become a key component in our escape.”

Colin’s mouth twitched. “W-what? How does that involve me?”

“If I’m unable to come up with another way to distract the guards, it may become necessary to find out which ones are partial to fancy boys and take advantage of it. See, information...and possibly fornication.”

“And I’m supposed to play the fancy boy?”

“Well I can’t do it. I’m much too rugged. You, on the other hand, are perfect for the part.”

“I don’t want to be a fancy boy! I like girls!”

“Stretched out in a coffin or bent over a barrel, it’s your choice.”

Colin’s mouth turned down into a sour grimace. “My choices suck.”

“You found a third option. See, inspiration. That’s the spirit.”

“I think you might be the devil.”

“Now you really sound like my mother.”

Colin groaned. “I’m going to bed.”

CHAPTER 6

Dominic crawled out of the small tent he shared with another man and paused long enough to consider killing him in his sleep just to silence his awful snoring. Maybe another time. Tonight, he would take care of the little shit that humiliated and caused him to forfeit two meals. The high-and-mighty commander would get his due as well, but that was dangerous, and it would take some planning. To fail meant his certain death.

“Hey, where are you going?” one of the inner perimeter guards challenged.

“I’m going to have a piss. Do you want to hold it for me? You look like a sword polisher.”

The soldier glared. “Fine, but if you wander far, I’ll put the dogs on you.”

Dominic growled unintelligibly and strode toward the woodline. Upon reaching the trees, he crept in the direction where he had seen the kid set up his tent. He approached the tent from the rear and pulled out the length of wire he had scavenged. Deep breathing sounded from inside the canvas shelter and helped to mask his footsteps. He undid the laces at the uphill side of the tent, knowing that was where their heads would point.

Dominic looked down on the sleeping forms but could only see the other boy. A blanket covered his target’s head, and he would need to draw it back without waking him to employ his garrote. He gently lifted the covering with one hand while keeping the other free to smother any sounds should the boy awaken.

The convicted murderer looked down at the roll of clothing and branches. “What…?”

Garran sneaked up behind Dominic and smashed a tree limb into his right knee. Dominic’s leg collapsed, no longer able to support his weight. He let out a strangled cry just before Garran silenced him by clubbing the back of his broad head several times. Once Dominic stopped moving, Garran worked his shins and ribs just for good measure.

Colin crawled out of the tent, sweating, and looked down at the battered, unconscious man. “Is he dead?”

“No, but it will be a couple of weeks before he recovers the strength to threaten us again.”

“Us? You mean you. He wasn’t mad at me.”

“He’ll hate you by association.”

“This happens a lot with you, doesn’t it?” 

“It is not a unique phenomenon.”

Garran hefted Dominic’s legs up by his ankles and began dragging him back toward the center of camp. The inner perimeter guards were not exceptionally vigilant, and it was a simple task to discard Dominic’s unconscious body between two tents and return to his own to grab the remaining few hours of sleep available to him.

***

The bedlam of clanging metal and shouting woke Garran and Colin. Colin rubbed the sleep from his eyes and peered out of their small tent. The waxing sunrise cut through the frigid morning fog and cast a gray pall over the camp. Soldiers went about kicking at tents and shouting to awaken the occupants. One of the guards stepped up to the side of their shelter and struck the top with his spear haft despite seeing Colin already up.

Colin nudged Garran’s backside with his booted foot. “Come on, you don’t want to be late for breakfast.”

Garran grabbed his boots, crawled from the tent, and began putting them on. “You were a farmer, weren’t you?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Aside from the slow-eyed, dim look on your face, no one else is so damned chipper at this ungodly hour.”

“Ungodly? I’ve been awake for nearly an hour. Hey, what do you mean by slow-eyed and dim?”

“Exactly my point.”

Garran and Colin barged through the slowly rousing camp and made straight for the chow wagons. As with dinner, the women served breakfast from iron pots suspended over cookfires. Once the bitterness of his early rise wore off, Garran winced in sympathy at the hour at which the women must have waked to begin cooking their morning meal. Garran purposely chose the line with the same young woman who had served him dinner. She smiled at him when he reached her and held out his bowl.

“I’m so sorry for the trouble I caused last night,” she said as she dropped a ladle full of cooked oats into his bowl.

“That’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.”

A guard stepped up and nudged Garran in the shoulder. “Keep it moving!”

“My name is Rose,” the girl called out as Garran walked away.

“Garran,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Garran and Colin found a place to sit and eat.

“I don’t see that Dominic guy around,” Colin said as he scanned the camp.

“I imagine he’s in whatever passes for an infirmary in this place.”

“How’d you know he was going to come last night?”

“I didn’t, not that night anyway, but I knew he would come soon. I’m used to people wanting to exact some sort of retribution on me.”

“Why, what do you do?”

Garran shrugged. “I don’t know. I just be me, and I guess some people don’t like it.”

“That girl seems to like you,” Colin said with a grin.

“Yes, she does. I might have to make a late-night call.”

“Be careful, they’re really strict about keeping the men from cavorting with the women.”

“How long have you been with the work camp?”

“Almost a week, but it’s been almost all traveling. They came to my town in Silverton Valley and scooped me up on their way toward the mountain passes.”

“A week? No way am I going to stick around that long.”

“You’re really going to try and run?”

“Aren’t you?”

Colin shook his head. “I’ve seen three men try, and none ever got far. One managed to evade the soldiers and their dogs for almost a day, but they brought him back in come morning. I doubt he’ll try again.”

“That’s because most of these people are city folk. I’m mountain born and raised. This is my land, and I can disappear like a ghost if I want to.”

“I don’t know…”

“Would you rather get cut down by raiders? It sounds to me like it’s a real possibility.”

Colin studied his feet. “Yeah, the commander warned of it, and some of the other workers talk about it a lot.”

“It seems stupid to me not to try.”

“I guess.”

Another group arrived as the main camp packed up their tents and meager belongings. The new arrivals numbered seven men, two wagons, and five guards counting the drivers. Soldiers went about camp and ordered everyone to load up into the wagons and move out. By midmorning, the caravan was plodding down the narrow dirt road toward the Midland Pass.

The wagon column took a short rest just after noon, but they did not set up the chow lines. Soldiers escorted the women to each of the wagons to pass out hard rolls and cheese. Garran and Rose were able to exchange a quick pleasantry before her escort ordered her to the next wagon.

The soldiers gave the work crew enough time to eat their simple lunch and stretch their legs before ordering them back into the wagons and the caravan got underway once again. Halfway through their next leg of travel, Cyril guided his mount next to Garran’s wagon.

“Mr. Holt, how fares you this day?”

Garran did his best to mask his surprise at the commander’s inquiry and familiarity. “I am doing as well as can be expected, sir.”

“That’s good to hear. It seems Mr. Mercier went to relieve himself last night and took several nasty falls. It will likely be two or three weeks before he fully recovers. That puts me a man down before we even start working.”

“A person should be careful where they dangle their worm when they go fishing.”

Cyril nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Some fish have a bigger bite than others, but few fish can avoid being caught if the fisherman is persistent enough, Mr. Holt.”

“Commander, do you know the names of all the men here?”

Cyril guided his mount away from the wagon and said, “Only the ones I expect to give me trouble—Mr. Holt.

***

The wagon train navigated the rough, winding road deeper into the remote, forested mountain passes separating Anatolia and Osage. Rockslides and fallen trees often blocked the path, and the work crews had to spend hours and sometimes days clearing away the obstacles. Once, heavy rains had washed out a section of the road and created a channel so deep that they spent a week filling it with rock and soil.

Garran spotted Dominic hobbling around camp performing mundane tasks. Commander Godfrey was insistent that everyone did some kind of work no matter his or her infirmities. Dominic cast baleful glares at Garran, but he never sought him out for confrontation, and Garran made sure to avoid him as much as possible.

“You see now why King Remiel is desperate to build his trade road,” Commander Godfrey announced when they finished spanning a large gully. “This pass is the shortest route between Anatolia and Osage, but it’s too treacherous for anyone but black marketers to use. The Guild’s trade route requires another two weeks of travel to circumvent the pass.”

“Fat lot of good it will do if The Guild and their payrolled legislators keep calling us smugglers and siccing their goons on us,” Frank said.

Garran spent much of his time studying how the camp moved and operated, particularly the soldiers. He watched how they set up their inner and outer perimeters and conducted their roving patrols. Most importantly, he learned how they handled and fed the dogs.

“Garran, we are getting farther and farther away from any form of civilization,” Colin said. “Even if we do escape now, it will take a week of walking where we will likely starve to death, if the elements or some wild animal doesn’t kill us first.”

“Spoken like a true farmer. I told you, this is my kind of country, and I know how to survive in it. I’ve been watching the soldiers. We’ll make our move at the next hazard. With everyone working, we’ll be able to attempt our escape with the fewest number of guards to see us.”

“How do you know there will be another blockage? What about the dogs?”

“We had some terrible winds tear through the pass this winter. That means a lot of downed trees, especially higher up where the soil is thinner and there’s less for the roots to find purchase.” Garran pointed to the giant cleft below them. “All the water from the mountain springs and snow melt runs right through there. Once you reach the water, you can use it to hide your scent from the dogs.”

“How will I even reach it? I can’t outrun a dog.”

“I’ll distract the dogs so you can make it.”

“What about you?”

Garran smiled. “I’ve had fathers sic their dogs on me before. I know how to deal with them.”

“If we fail…”

“If we fail, we’ll get in trouble. The worst thing they’ll do is stick us with extra chores and give us a lash or two. It’s not as though we’re rapists and murderers. We’re a couple of kids conscripted into quasi-slavery. The commander seems like a reasonable guy. He’ll have to punish us, but he’ll understand.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Garran clapped Colin on the shoulder. “Trust me, I’m always right.”

Garran’s presumptions held true. Less than two days after constructing their makeshift bridge, a copse of massive fir trees crisscrossed the road and hillside, creating a tangled mess. Cyril ordered the crews to draw tools from the equipment wagons. Workers were not allowed to maintain the tools on their person as many could be formidable weapons if put to violent use.

Colin and Garran picked up their work implements from the wagon and clambered over the fallen trees to the far end of the tangled mass. Garran used his reaping blade to shear off the boughs so Colin could use his axe to hack off the thick limbs. A saw crew would then section the massive trunks into manageable pieces and roll them off the road.

“This is our moment,” Garran said as he cut at the needle-bristling boughs.

“What do we do?”

“You see that deer trail just up the path? That runs down to the stream I told you about. Once you reach the stream, keep running, but stay in the shallow water so the dogs can’t get your scent. It’s just a matter of staying in the water until we find a good place to start cutting through the forest.”

Colin took a sidelong glance at the two guards standing idle nearby. “That trail looks like it’s a mile away. They’ll catch me before I reach it.”

“No they won’t. The horses can’t get past these trees before we’re halfway to the stream, and they can’t run down a steep hill. The two slack-jawed guards aren’t even paying attention to us. With the armor and weapons they’re carrying, we’ll be halfway to the trail before they know we’ve made a break for it and can’t possibly catch us.”

“I wish I had your confidence. I’m scared shitless right now.”

“It’s a perfectly natural feeling. Use that fear. It will help you run faster.”

“I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Don’t try to think. It’s not amongst your stronger talents. Leave the thinking to those better suited to the task.”

Colin frowned. “You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?”

Garran nodded. “I know, but I’m also right.”

Sweat poured down Colin’s face, and his heart was already beating so fast that he was certain any further exertion would cause it to explode. “I sure hope so.”