Fourth Vector Ch. 12

"It all seems so centralized. The power, that is. We have a similar form of government where we are from," said Jack. "However, our emperor does allow independent decision-making amongst other branches of the government."

Abel shook his head. "That is not the case here. The clan chief's words are law. The only one who can overrule a clan chief is the high clan king."

"The high clan king. Tell me more about him, will you? Where is he for one?"

"The high clan king is the formal ruler of all of Andalucia," said Abel. "It is largely a nominal role, formulated by the strongest clan chief in the entire land. He rules the oasis stronghold city of Septhada, which is a distance away to the east."

"Does that mean his is the strongest clan in Andalucia?" asked Jack.

Abel shook his head. "No, he has no clan formally. When a man becomes high clan king, thatis his identity. He no longer belongs to his former clan, and that clan will then pick a new clan chief. The only army that the high clan king has is that of theSciavo. The slave hunters. An elite soldiery that answers only to him. The high clan king is elected to his position from the clan kings themselves. Only the strongest gets the position."

"Who is the current high clan king?"

Abel pursed his lips. "A terrifying man named Vertulis. He was formerly of theBurlada clan on the eastern reaches of Andalucia. He is a great warrior."

"As great as he is, could he command all the clan chiefs to act as one? To form a unified force for all of Andalucia?"

"That is a sensitive subject," said Abel quietly. "The high clan king is a position of utmost respect in our society, but the king doesn't have much real power. The real power operators are the clan chiefs. There are some clans that have five times the warriors of theSciavo. While the high clan king is nominally the head of society, realistically he doesn't wield that much direct authority. He can give decrees and orders to the clan chiefs, but they aren't risking much by not following them."

"So he's just a figurehead?" asked Jack.

Abel shook his head. "Yes and no. It depends on the man. Ambitious clan chiefs can take over the kingship and rule with terror for the rest of their lives. Others choose to live a life of opulence in Septhada and leave the clan chiefs to their own dealings. It just matters who occupies the throne."

"And this Vertulis? What is he like?"

Abel turned to look at him. "He is a very active king. He is not one to be crossed. I would be careful about provoking him because he is very willing to use theSciavo to attain his goals. Even his ties with his former clan are strong, and theBurlada are very deadly."

They came to a solid-looking tent and Abel soon picked up the flap, gesturing for Jack to go inside. Ducking his head, Jack slipped across the threshold, taking hold of the small one-room dwelling that appeared very simplistic for its purpose. Inside were three people. One, an adult woman in her mid-twenties with lustrous, long dark hair. The second was a middle-aged woman wearing the metal clasp of the slave. The last was a small girl, no more than five.

At the sight of Jack, all three of them prostrated themselves against the ground. Jack shot a look over to Abel who quickly bid them to rise to their feet.

"Clan chief, this is my family," said Abel as he helped them all rise as one. "My wife, Nia, and my daughter, Yula."

"Prayers for your good fortune, clan chief," said Nia politely as she bowed her head.

"Thank you for allowing me into your home, Nia," said Jack with a warm smile. He then bent at the knee to look at Yula. "And it's nice to meet you too, little one." Yula smiled shyly before running behind the legs of her father.

Abel chuckled and mussed her hair before moving over to the middle-aged slave. "This is Bithra, our slave. She's been serving our home for ten years."

Bithra remained on her knees, not daring to make eye contact with Jack. It was a pitiful sight, and it said much about the status of slaves in Andalucian society. As a response, Jack sunk to his, forcing Bithra to look at him. It caused a gasp from Abel's wife at seeing a clan chief behave in such a manner to a slave, but Jack wanted to prove a point.

"Very nice to meet you as well, Bithra," said Jack slowly, causing the old woman to turn red with embarrassment. "Thank you for the warm welcome."

She turned away but not before beaming with a smile as her eyes turned misty. As Jack stood up again, he found a look of concern on Abel's face as well as discontent on Nia's.

"Clan chief, it is not wise to treat slaves with such a measure of respect," said Abel while shaking his head. "Slaves tend to act out when they think they have too much value. It's better not to treat them as people."

A look of momentary anger crossed Jack's face before he settled on mild consternation. "Of all the things I find foreign about your land, there is none more so than your treatment of other people. Of slavery."

Abel bowed his head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, clan chief. But this is the way it is, and the way it's always been. Andalucian society revolves around slavery. Slavesare vital members, picking our crops and working in the mines. But no one goes into slavery willingly. Rebellions are common. Clans end up dealing with slave rebellions almost as often as they go about fighting each other. The only proper way to deal with slavery is with a firm, unflinching hand."

Jack shook his head. "That's something I find despicable, Abel. We will have more to talk about soon with this issue. Do you treat former slaves in such a manner?"

Abel gave him a confused look. "Former slaves?"

"Yes, one's that have been set free or purchased their freedom in some form?"

Able looked away. "There is no such thing in Andalucia. Once you become a slave, you will always be one. Only death can free someone of slavery."

Jack resisted the urge to curse, especially around the little girl who was now galloping freely around the tent. "We will talk about this more later, Abel."

The man bowed his head. "Of course, clan chief." Abel then went about refilling his water container from stores within the tent, only signaling to the door when he was finished.

Jack then turned to look at Nia. "Thank you for letting me into your home." He smiled at Bithra and offered a small wave to Yula before he and Abel exited the dwelling.

"Abel, you've given me much to think about," said Jack finally once they had some privacy. "I'd like to continue these talks if you're willing."

"Of course, clan chief. I'll do all that you require of me. It will be my honor."

"Tonight, I want you to come seek me out as the sun sets. I want to know all that you know about this land so we can come up with our best course of action."

Abel gave him a toothy grin. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay up for a long time if you want to know all that I do."

"As long as we have the time," said Jack with a deep breath. "And I thank you now for your time."

"I'm at your service at all times, clan chief. We all are," said Abel while circling his finger around the camp. "TheMuthada live for their chief, and we'll follow you until your end or ours. This I can promise you."

"I appreciate that, Abel. We'll talk again soon."

Abel bowed one more time before heading back to the eastern slope to resume his guard. Jack took a deep breath as he walked over to the northern slope and looked out to the camp of the nearbyCethusa clan. The land of Andalucia was complicated beyond any doubt. The more he learned from Abel only seemed to confirm that simple fact. Yet, it was for a good purpose that he must learn all he could. The fate of all those innocents depended on him. The fate of Kat especially depended on him. He just hoped wherever she was, she was safe. After seeing more of the way slaves were treated here, it didn't fill him with much hope.

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"So tell me about the city of Methusa? What clan does that belong to?" Jack asked as the evening sun hung low in the western sky. It was a few short hours later, and Jack ate a quick dinner while Abel answered questions about his land. Beside them sat Greg, Abigail, and Vera, all listening rather intently. Vera seemed to be the one that was least trusting of Abel, although given her own personal experience, that could be understood.

Abel started to shake his head. "No one. Methusa is an open city. It's run by theSciavo, primarily because it's the first port of entry for any foreign slaves. Clan chiefs have tried to take it over before, but usually it results in action by the high clan king or other clan chiefs. So now, most clan chiefs ignore it. They buy their slaves from there, but otherwise they leave it be."

Before Jack could ask another question, the sounds of gunfire were heard from the eastern slope. All of them except Vera were on their feet at once, drawing their primary weapons as they rushed forward to see what was causing all the action. It was only once they were about twenty yards from the front that Jack heard the sounds of gunfire coming from the western slope as well.

"It's another full attack," he yelled out while looking over to Greg. "I want you and Abel to guard the eastern slope. Abigail and I will take the western! Good luck to both of you!"

The two men nodded and went to war as one team, despite the difference in their fighting styles. Jack gave one last glance over to the eastern slope, watching the marines fire their rifles as theMuthada set about with the steadytwang of their bows.

As Jack and Abigail ran to the western slope, they found a chaotic scene as once again another clan tried to push their way up to slope. This happened to be Captain Bucknell's position, the marine soon nodding to Jack as he crouched behind the same covering rock.

"It looks like they're trying one more time before nightfall," said Bucknell as he got off a few more bursts. "It looks like another clan has taken the place of theMuthada!"

Jack looked out beyond the slope to the position previously occupied by his newly allied clan. Out on the plain, a new camp had taken form, and they were once more surrounded by four clans.

"We'll just have to show them the same courtesy as we've shown the other clans," said Jack before getting off a few shots of his own.

The attack started to get hotter the longer it went on. Droves of Andalucian warriors tried their way up the slope, mostly repeating the same tired tactics of theMuthada the day before. However, they adapted more quickly, most of them figuring out that if they took shelter as they rushed up the hill, they'd have a greater chance of reaching the top. For that reason, they'd rush up a few places and then hid behind the rocks to catch their breath before popping up for a quick shot of their bow. They would then repeat this cycle until they reached the top of the slope or they were picked off.

Even with the extra marines and theMuthada, it was a near run battle. Jack hated to think about it, but if this same attack occurred the day before, they would surely have been overrun. To make matters worse, they seemed to coordinate their attacks. Instead of all of them rushing up at the same time, many would hang back to offer covering fire for their comrades rushing up the slope.

It was a deadly combination as Jack found himself having to take cover from arrows fired at the base of the slope while other warriors started to slip past the top. It got so bad that several of theMuthada up front started hand-to-hand combat with those other warriors reaching the top, trying to buy time for the marines to destroy the attackers.

"These sons of bitches don't know when to stop, do they?" yelled out Bucknell before pushing above the rocks to get off a few more bursts. It was the last thing he ever said. In the next moment, he fell to the ground, an arrow penetrating all the way through his mouth and sticking out a good several inches out the back of his skull. He died instantly.

He wasn't the only casualty of the attack. Several more marines were killed or wounded as well as another handful ofMuthada before the remaining attackers were beaten off the slope. They retreated quickly back down, disappearing as quickly as the attack had begun. They left behind total carnage, a mass of dead bodies, and a weak chorus of wounded men.

As Jack counted the dead and set about getting relief for the front line marines, Greg came running up to his side. He had blood along his hip and mostly down his leg. It caused Jack a moment of alarm until the man started to shake his head.

"Not mine," he said while pointing to his hip. "I've got a few casualties up front. How was it back here?"

"About the same except for him," said Jack, pointing down to the deceased Bucknell. "We're going to need a new captain for this company."

"Shit," swore Greg before kneeling down near Bucknell. He swallowed hard as he had a private moment with the man before raising back up on his feet. "Lt. Bridge! Lt. Bridge, over here at once!"

Jack recognized the man who started to make his way over to them, knowing him to be in charge of the second platoon in Bucknell's company. Bill Bridge was a good marine, and he was about to find himself in charge.

"I'm here, sir," said Bridge as soon as he came up to Greg, offering a parade ground salute.

Greg pointed down to Bucknell. "Bridge, there's no easy way to say this but you're in charge of Company B now."

Bridge looked down at Bucknell and gawked for a moment before getting himself under control. "Understood, sir. I'll do my best."

"I know you will, Bridge. Consider this a battlefield commission to captain. We'll get you a new bar for your uniform when we get back to the ship. Now take over here."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" said the now Captain Bridge as he soon rushed away to give orders to his new company.

Greg looked down at the body of one of the attacking Andalucian warriors and gave it a stiff kick. "These bastards don't know when to give up, do they?"

Jack shook his head. "They're fighters. I'll give them that much. It makes me nervous to think about what would have happened if this very attack came yesterday. We might not be standing here if that's the case."

Greg took a deep sigh. There was quiet for a moment before he turned to lock his gaze on Jack. "We need to get off this plateau. Otherwise, they're going to continue to whittle us down until there's nothing left."

Jack nodded but remained silent. The two of them walked back toward the center of the plateau where Abel could be found dragging a woundedMuthada warrior back to the safety of their tents. Depositing the man with two slaves, Abel wiped the sweat off his brow and looked back to Jack.

"Four less warriors on the eastern slope, clan chief."

"You've lost a lot of men in the last few days, Abel," said Jack quietly.

Abel shrugged his shoulders. "It is the Andalucian way," he said stoically.

"Abel, we really need to get off this plateau. I don't think we can continue to hold out here if these attacks don't stop."

Abel started to nod. "No. They'll keep wearing us down until they overrun us."

"Is there anything we're missing about the terrain? We seem to be surrounded. Even now your old camp has been reoccupied by another clan. Everywhere I look, there's a force blocking the way. We need to get off this plateau. If we stay here, we die."

Abel took a deep breath. "There is a way that we could go. A way off the plateau if that's what you're seeking."

"And go where?" asked Jack. "Back to the coast or further inland?"

Abel shrugged. "Depends on where you want to go."

"There is someone we need to rescue in the camp of theNumratha. Someone important to us," said Jack. "If we can find a way to their camp to make a raid, we can then head to the coast."

"TheNumratha, eh?" Abel rubbed his chin. "That will be tricky. But there is a path that can get you over there."

"How? Show me."

Abel sunk to his knees and used his finger to draw a circle in the sand below. "This is the plateau where we are." He made two notches—one on the eastern end and one on the western. "These are the two slopes that exit off the plateau."

Abel then drew four circles in the main cardinal directions surrounding the camp. "Here's the camps of all the other surrounding clans. They choke off most of the exits from this mountain but there is one small path. It's probably not guarded because they won't expect you to know about it. But it loops around the north side of the plateau, below the northern clan camp and between the mountain to the other side." Abel then drew a line in the sand from the western slope of the plateau all the way around the north side until it landed close to the eastern side, closest to the camp of theNumratha.

"That would be near ideal for us to launch a raid on theNumratha," said Jack quietly. "How big is this path?"

"That's another small problem," said Abel with a grimace. "It's a rocky, jagged path. The southern face of it is sheer. The northern face goes straight up to the plain that houses the other clan. If they find us, they wouldn't have to shoot at us. They'd just have to roll rocks down on our heads, and that would be the end of all of us."

"Would they be able to see us though?" asked Greg. "How secluded is this path?"

Abel shook his head back and forth. "They might in broad daylight. Even in the night, they might see the lights of the fire as you go through the path. It's extremely risky."

"But it's also a chance for us," said Jack. "Can we see the path from the plateau?"

"Quite possibly," said Abel. "Come with me."

Abel led them through theMuthada camp until they emerged on the northern end of the plateau. Out in the distance, they could see the Andalucian camp out on the northern plain, with a steep, jagged valley separating them now.

Armed with the foreknowledge of the path, Jack looked deep into the valley to determine if he could make out the path that Abel described.

"You can see it right there, only barely," said Abel as he pointed it out. Sure enough, an extremely narrow path followed the course of a sheer rock wall. It sounded much better than it actually looked. The path was only about three feet at its widest. One wrong step would send them careening into the valley's floor far below.

Greg let out a low whistle. "That looks particularly nasty, Abel."

"It may be the only chance we have. Especially if you want to get a surprise attack on theNumratha," said Abel.

"I do," confirmed Jack before looking at both men. "And I want to do it when they least expect us. When they won't be able to see us coming."

Greg gave him a confused look. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack looked one more time out at the valley below them. "We're going to attempt to cross it tonight to attack them first thing in the morning."

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Back at the palace in the capitol city of Sorella, Heron walked out to his balcony and took a deep sigh. The sun was setting for the day, and the clamor of the midafternoon streets was starting to die down finally. Heron watched as the sun slipped beneath a low-lying bank of clouds, turning his orange-shrouded city much darker in a matter of seconds.

It was a lonely post but it was still a routine that he did almost every evening going back as long as he could remember. Heron enjoyed watching the sun set on his kingdom but so did the queen at one time as well. Niamh used to say that the sunset always looked the same no matter where you were in the world. She would be one to know, having spent most of her early life in Picardy. It had almost been a ritual for her—greeting the sun when it rose and saying goodnight when it set. She had even talked her husband into observing the seemingly foolish routine, but the older that Heron got, the more he respected it.