Alien Courage (Rise of the Empress) (52 page)

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Brakin spread
his men along the ridge on the high ground. Their position had a commanding
view over the slope below and on the forest on the other side. He stood on a
high rock and saw two Beclin men below on the slope just in the tree line. He
signalled by holding his gun high over his head. The Beclin signalled back by
holding their guns above their heads.

 Brakin
walked over to the Beclin boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ready?” he
asked.

“Yes,” the boy
replied nervously.

“Just stay close
to me and when I give the word, move swiftly to your people.” The boy looked
warmly at Brakin and shifted his feet in the snow. Brakin smiled and pulled the
boy a little closer. “I do not and have never understood the fighting between
our villages. I hope in the future you will look upon us as neighbours rather
than as enemies. Gain many strong spirits my young friend,” Brakin said softly
and left the boy and moved over to a small group of his men.

“We go now,”
Brakin said with a hint of apprehension showing in his voice.
“Three of you to come with the boy and myself.
The rest,
cover the position directly to the front there,” he said pointing. “OK let’s
go!”

The party of
five moved slowly into the open and down the slope. Brakin was in the lead with
the boy directly behind him and one man on each flank and another bringing up
the rear. They stopped just out of gun range from the tree line the Beclin were
using as cover.

Six Beclin
Warriors emerged from the trees. The Beclin Chief was in the lead and they were
in a tight arrow formation. One Warrior in the rear had a small figure clinging
to his back. Deewa, thought Brakin excitedly. The Beclin group moved swiftly
toward them and got to within thirty yards of the Shihone and fanned out
slightly, then stopped. Alarm immediately materialised in Brakin’s mind.

In a swift
practiced movement before any words could be exchanged the Beclin dropped to
their knees and raised their guns.
The one on the back of the
Warrior Brakin thought was Deewa jumped off and produced a gun aiming it at
them.

“BOOM!” the
Beclin guns sounded as one and the Beclin boy was the only one left standing.
He was in a state of shock as he looked around at the men lying in blood soaked
snow around them. He spun around as he heard shouting from the slope above;
dozens of men were running down the slope.

“Come… COME!”
shouted the Beclin Chief to the boy but the boy stood there frozen and
confused. The Chief thought about running to him but the men coming down the
slope would soon be in gun range; he gave one last
shout
to the boy and then turned to the safety of the trees. The boy looked down at
Brakin who was writhing in agony in the snow. A bullet had hit him in the right
shoulder and another clipped his left hip. The boy knelt down and grabbed his
shoulder wound to stem the flow of blood.

Peter appeared
on the ridge line away from the Shihone position and instantly took in the
scene, the group of men lying in the snow and the group with hat tuffs running to
cover easily computed. He cocked his gun while running flat out and spotted
what must be the leader of the running Beclin group. He jumped up and allowed
himself to fall hitting the snow on his knees and sliding. His gun was in his
shoulder and he sighted down the barrel as he waited to stop sliding. The
instant he stopped sliding he fired.

The Beclin Chief
had just made it into the tree line and a running Warrior beside him got
between the Chief and Peter, a bullet slammed into his head just behind his
ear. The Warrior was blown sideways and his body crashed into the Chief. Peter
had his other gun off his back and aimed it at the mass of arms and legs on the
ground just inside the tree line and fired. His bullet struck the Chief in the
upper arm just grazing him. Peter was up and running with one gun slung and
commenced reloading on the other.

The main line of
Shihone warriors reached their fallen comrades and started firing into the tree
line. The trees erupted in white smoke as a line of concealed guns fired as
one. The range to their targets was great but two Shihone Warriors fell. The
Beclin then fled into the forest.

Peter entered
the forest to the far right of the Beclin and had managed to reload one gun and
was working on the second as he now had the image of the fleeing enemy. He saw
them split into three groups and head in separate directions. He saw one group
with a man holding his upper arm and set his course for that one. Sasra just
cleared the ridge and saw the mass of men on the slope.

The Beclin Chief
had picked the smallest group as he thought it would attract less attention and
be faster. The eight men around him were running very fast and only one paid
him any attention. His arm was bleeding profusely. “I need to stop and bandage
my arm,” he shouted. Only one man slowed with him. The six others were racing
away from them, driven by fear.

The Chief ripped
his jacket open and took his thick leather shirt off as his friend pulled some
cloth from his bag. His arm had a gaping furrow caused by Peter’s bullet. The
blood oozed out thickly and down his arm. His friend started to wrap the arm
and managed to stop the bleeding when a shot rang out behind him. His head
exploded as a bullet exited his forehead narrowly missing the Chief. Peter swung
the other gun off his back and took aim at the now running Chief. Peter took up
the pressure on the trigger then stopped looking down the sights of a shirtless
man running in below freezing temperature. He walked to the dead man and picked
up the shirt and jacket on the snow and jogged off after the Chief.

He found the
Chief a short distance away turning blue with the cold and shivering. Peter
walk calmly up to him and sat on a rock looking at him.

The Chief saw him
with his jacket and shirt and staggered towards him. Peter smiled and held out
the clothing. The Chief gratefully grabbed his clothes but Peter slammed the
butt of his gun into his face smashing his nose. The Chief fell back in agony
gripping his face with blood running through his fingers.

“Just so we
don’t have any misunderstanding?” Peter hissed as he stood over the Chief and
dropped his clothes onto him. The Chief with great effort put his clothes on as
Peter stepped back and covered him with his gun.

The Chief got
dressed but was still shivering, his face and front covered in blood. He
suddenly noticed the axe Peter had hanging from his belt and a sense of dread
filled him. Peter saw him looking at the axe and grinned, “You’re next. Now
turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

The Chief did so
but quickly spun around slashing a knife where he thought Peter would be. Peter
wasn’t, he had taken a step to the side and waited for this to happen. The
Chief now found himself staring down Peter’s barrel.

“Drop it!” Peter
commanded but the Chief knew what would happen to him as a prisoner and drew
the knife back quickly to throw. Peter shot him.

“You can come
down now,” Peter shouted up the small slope and Sasra looked down through the
trees and recognised him. He quickly ran down to Peter.

“I heard the
shooting and found the other Beclin back there,” Sasra said pointing behind
him. He stood over the Beclin Chief and spat on his body. “You have done the
Shihone a great service, that is an evil man,” he said spitting on his body
once again. A dozen Shihone warriors ran down the slope and stood around the
dead Beclin Chief. Most spat on the body and some kicked it, their hatred
burning for this man.

Peter and Sasra made
their way back to the ambush slope. Three Shihone were dead and five wounded,
two would not live for long. Brakin was carried up the slope to a rocky area
where a fire was started. The young Beclin boy did not leave his side; he paid
no attention to the threats which came from some of the Shihone.

Sasra knelt
beside
Brakin and was relieved he had a good chance of
survival. Peter stood behind Sasra. “Is is your leader?” Peter asked.

“Yes, but he is
yet to be named by the village elders. Our Chief died recently.”

“His chances of
survival will be greatly improved if you can get him to shelter. Is your
village far?” Peter asked.

“Yes, too far
for wounded men. We will take them to the camp where your friends are, but I
think most of the men have decided to attack the Beclin village at the end of
the valley,” Sasra said looking at the now unconscious Brakin.

“That’s not a
good tactic,” Peter said turning to see the Shihone Warriors milling around.
Anger and revenge were being openly discussed. Peter turned and threw his gun
up and caught it mid way up the barrel as he jumped on top of a rock. “I am a
Trader and you have only just met me. It was an honour to have helped your
village by killing the Beclin Chief,” Peter said loudly and the Warriors circled
him and shouted their acceptance and shook their guns in salute for Peter
killing the Beclin Chief.

Peter quickly
looked at each man in turn and continued talking in a commanding voice, “The
Beclin left quickly after their treachery, but that is part of their plan. They
expect you to attack them. Do what they expect and your losses will be great.
If you think that is acceptable make sure your leader is a good one. My advice
is that you assess your options and act with reason. If you react recklessly with
hot blood you are assisting your enemy. You are a fine people, I wish you
well.”

Peter got off
the rock and walked over to Sasra and knelt
beside
Brakin. “Let’s get this man and the other wounded to shelter,” he said. The
large group of Warriors were quietly talking among themselves.

“They need a
Chief,” Sasra said quietly gathering up his and Brakin’s gear.

“Yes, they do,”
Peter answered.

Four men had
just finished making sleds and the wounded were carefully lifted onto them.
Twelve men volunteered to assist the wounded and the party set out toward the
camp. Peter suddenly swung around to see two men threatening the Beclin boy and
stormed over to them.

“Come with me,”
Peter said grabbing the boy by the arm and pulling him away from the two men.

“You don’t tell
me what to do. He’s Beclin and will die this day,” one of the Warriors said
viciously and made a move for the boy.

Peter moved so
swiftly the two men had no defence. Peter struck the first man a blow to the
stomach and the other an elbow to the jaw, both men went swiftly to the ground.
He stood over the two men and glared at them. “Your enemy is that way,” Peter
said pointing towards the Beclin village.

The rest of the Warriors
stared in disbelief at Peter. His actions were so swift and confident they did
nothing as Peter led the boy to the sled party. They only moved off when Peter
started walking away from them. Sasra shook his head in amazement and looked at
his companion beside him who also had an amazed look on his face, “strong
spirit
that one,” he whispered. Sasra nodded agreement.

The trip back to
the camp was uneventful except for a party of wolves following them for a short
distance; some well placed shots drove them away.

The camp site
had a huge fire raging. Teni had shot a young moibla and between the
Administrator and himself dressed it out and placed it on a quickly made spit.
The smell of roasting meat greeted the sled party a warm welcome. The weather was
setting in with driving snow and dark racing clouds.

Sasra explained
to
Url
and Teni the ambush and the killing. Peter
could not hear the conversation as he was near the fire which was making loud
cracking sounds but he saw Sasra point to him a number of times and looks of
admiration from Url and Teni. Peter busied himself eating roast meat.

Toormis and
Cassy saw to the wounded. Toormis used the last of his medical supplies but it
was just enough to treat the serious wounds effectively. Two of the wounded
were stomach shot with horrific wounds and were not expected to live. Toormis
gave them the maximum amount of pain killer he dared and they drifted off into
a peaceful sleep, neither woke up.