Waterperch

Branches hissed above him. Peaceful swaying greeted his tired eyes as autumn colored leaves whipped above. Wind relieved some of the sun’s heat. With a quiet tap, Geoffrey's helmet rested against the trunk.

Sitting on a solitary hill, a wide display of forest stretched into the distance. Sounds of shuffling, clanking, and the occasional barked order drifted up to the lonely perch. Picking up the sword resting by his side still felt alien but getting up, he made his way back to the small encampment. Passing trees and scattering birds, rich stew wafted a greeting.

Twenty tents formed a semi-circle within a large clearing. Looming woods, so intimidating at night, formed a pleasant perimeter around the dwellings. Nodding at Jennifer who was stoking a large fire, he made his way to line up for the meal of the day. Gentle conversation buzzed throughout their makeshift settlement only punctuated by their leader, Gregory, calling out every small bit of inefficiency he could find.

Gregory wasn’t a bad man, old and cranky certainly, but his ranger experience took their battered band from certain death to a clean exodus on a regular basis. The old man taught them basic survival techniques, allowing scared refugees an actual chance within the sprawling woods. When Waterperch fell, the inhabitants fled to the forest, knowing the Shekami would not be occupied with looting for long. Gregory’s grey mane had been Geoffrey’s first sign of hope since the gates fell a month prior.

Three men wearing bright red uniforms and forager caps stumbled out of the undergrowth into camp. Pots and pans clanged to the ground as men jumped up, grabbing weapons. Out of breath, the men looked just as surprised as the assorted refugees. The closer refugees pointed their spears. The newcomers dropped their lance, sabre, and bow.

The closest wheezed, “Broodmother,” before gathering himself and gesturing for his compatriots to follow. A ragged number seven fluttered off one of their uniforms, the stitching having given way during their escape.

Confusion led to horror. Monstrous footsteps knocked stew from its pot. Deep bellowing, mixture of a horn and war cry was answered by hidden Shekami concealed within the forest. Everyone at once surged to catch up with the red uniformed volunteers who gestured madly at the opposite tree line. Waterperch’s doom had found them. Chaos reigned and many accidentally split off in confusion. They escaped, finally stopping at dusk.

Concealed, the group set watches and slept on the ground. The volunteers kept to themselves until finally Geoffrey came to crouch next to their tree stump. One of them had been carving into the soft wood. Sinking light revealed a crude map etched within wood. Their presumed leader smiled at Gregory and gestured for him to sit.

“I’m Stephen, this is James, and Paul, we’re just working out how we can bloody their noses tonight,” Stephen said quietly.

“I’m Geoff, we don’t have much of a chance, do we?” He looked quizzically and spoke in a sharp whisper.

“We’re almost back to the river, bridge should be ten miles south, they think we’re running scared, we circle back parallel to the bank, and we can catch them vulnerable.” He said, unbuttoning his red top coat as his men did the same. “Some relief we turned out to be, eh?” The three all grinned humorlessly. “Let’s go.”

Geoff was taken aback, “I’m no soldier, I-I found this helmet on a dead man.”

“So? We don’t get anywhere good by running, you’re human, and if we were worth our weight, your city would still be yours. Valan is with us, friend.”

Stephen stood up and offered a hand to Geoff, he took it and, after letting the others know, they slipped into the night. Without their ostentatious red top coats, the three blended into the night. Slipping between trees, under branches, and avoiding open spaces, the four men arrived near in an embankment next to a side road leading to the highway. Beginning to creep outwards they dove back into the undergrowth as a carriage ran past. Peeking up the road, Geoff yanked Stephen back by the collar, hearing harsh voices and seeing a torch in the distance. Shekami.

A quick thumbs up in thanks and they waited. Hearing feet walk by with sharp admonishments from the front, a whole column began moving past. Disorganized rabble slowly kept a pace and disappeared up the road. Three of them stayed by the side as their cohort passed by, speaking in their guttural language and gesturing ten feet in front of the men. They didn’t move a single muscle, quieting breathing. Looking off past them, one of the volunteers to Geoff’s right lightly nudged his shoulder and gestured to the right. Two on the left began moving further. Slowly and silently, they crawled towards the short embankment. Back pressed to the side, Stephen positioned himself a few feet to the left of and under the field of view of the Shekam.

The two teams crept toward the ankles of their adversary. Stephen pointed upwards and counted back on his fingers from three. At one, he grabbed the ankles of the closest adversary and pulled back as hard as he could, dashing the Shekam’s skull against the stone road. A second leapt upwards, grabbing another by the waist and hauling him into the undergrowth. Geoff jabbed with his sword, catching the Shekam closest to him at the bottom of its abdomen at the same time his partner pulled its arm down off the road.

Quickly, they hogtied the survivor and hid their two kills underneath a rotted out tree. They turned as one at crackling behind them. Two men in ragged clothes immediately raised their hands with a pleading look. “New recruits,” was Geoff’s first thought.

The liberation of Waterperch had begun.