Fourth Vector Ch. 13

After pulling more wounded into a pile, Jack stopped to talk with Greg as he looked above the hill. "It looks like they're pulling back," he said while he pointed up to the bluffs. "I can't see their camps anymore."

"Can't say I'd blame them. I'm sure a good portion of their warriors died today," said Greg. "The situation may have changed. Perhaps now we aren't at such a disadvantage."

"Maybe we can even end this war," said Jack. "And then they'll stop hunting us."

Before Greg could speak, they heard a slight cackling coming from the wounded not far from their feet. Jack looked down to find the source, his expression darkening as a bloodySciavo laid on the ground, barely clinging to life but still laughing at their words.

"You m-must be the one that started all t-this," said theSciavo with labored breath. His fingers pointed at Jack shakily before collapsing to the ground. "W-who caused all this death."

Jack walked the short distance to the man, crouching on his feet in front of him. TheSciavo would be dead within the hour, his blood staining the sand beneath his body. "That's right. I'm the one your entire country has united in trying to defeat. Who you attacked for no reason."

TheSciavo gave a bloody grin. "You're theTur'hava. This isn't over, you know? Andalucians never surrender. If y-you think this victory has won you the war, you'll b-be mistaken. Vertulis will never give in to you. You'll have to kill all of us to take his crown. The only way this ends is your surrender or your death."

Jack leaned over to grab the man, his teeth clenched in anger but life fled the robed warrior in the same moment, his lifeless head rolling back against the sand. He pushed off the ground and studied the dead man, wondering if there was any truth to his words. Would this war go on endlessly? Could he force Vertulis to surrender if he bled enough men from him?

More importantly, what would he do if theynever surrendered?

*****

Jack wasn't back behind his own lines for very long when one of the sentries from theNumratha came running up to his position. The sun was just about to dip below the horizon, and shadows were quickly falling across most of the battlefield.

"Clan Chief, there's a mass of people approaching our northeast flank," said the man, his brow streaked with sweat from his running.

"Do we have any inkling who they could be? Are they Andalucian?" asked Jack as he craned his neck in the direction the sentry indicated.

"They're Andalucian, Clan Chief. Not just warriors, but women and children as well," said the sentry. "It appears to be an entire clan."

An entire clan? Could it be another? Jack nodded quickly. "Let's go meet them. I have a feeling I know what they want. Were there any signs of hostility?"

"None, Clan Chief. They appear peaceful from what we can see."

Jack hurried across the front lines, his tracks leaving small, indistinguishable holes in the sand as they trekked across the loose dunes. As he got closer, he could see exactly what the sentry had meant. An entire mass of humanity was making its way toward the front line, the young and old, male and female, all moving closer. The men on the front lines watched them with wary appraisal, no doubt wondering if this was some kind of trick—one final attack before the sun disappeared.

Yet, Jack had seen this kind of rootless wandering before. His suspicion nagged at him. With all the casualties from today's attack, could it be possible they were able to receive reinforcements?

The mass of humanity came to a stop about a hundred yards from the trench. In the front, about three men could be seen conversing to themselves, their next action agreed upon by the same nod of the head from all three. They approached Jack's lines with firm but cautious purpose, their hands held up in peace. Noticeably absent were their bows, each having been left behind with the main group.

Jack quickly crossed over the trench in front of him, trying to meet them halfway onto the battlefield.

"If they pull anything funny, feel free to start shooting," he instructed the marines just behind him. "Otherwise, don't do anything further until you get word from me."

Jack crossed the short distance and met the three men in the middle of the dunes, carefully appraising all of them once he was close enough to make out their features. The one on the left was clearly the oldest as his beard was the grayest of the bunch and his wrinkles cut deep into his face. He was more tattered than the others as well, his robe being cut in several places and his headgear showing more of his face than his comrades.

The other two men to his right were closer to Jack's age. The one in the middle wore a dark-black goatee and black headgear to cover his face. He seemed to be judging Jack upon his approach, unsure what to make of the foreigner in front of him. The man on the far right had the most protective clothing on, making his face harder to see. Yet, Jack could see untrusting, brown eyes, blazing on him in anger. It was enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

Once they were in earshot, Jack was the first to break the silence. "Who are you? Why are you approaching my lines?"

The older man looked at the younger two and then back to Jack. "We are warriors of theBurlada clan, the greatest clan in all of Andalucia. My brother was the clan chief of theBurlada and these two men were his sons."

"He was the clan chief? Is he no more?" asked Jack.

The older man nodded. "He has been killed today in this battle."

Jack nodded quietly. That explained the hostility from the man on his right. Losing his father in one day was enough to make him hate Jack right from the beginning.

"We seek our new clan chief," said the older man. "We have been elected as speakers of our clan until we can seek him out that killed my brother and submit to him."

"That is unfortunate," said Jack. "You have my sorrow for your loss."

The younger man with the goatee was the next to speak, his words quite a shock to all of them. "You're theTur'hava, aren't you? You're the foreigner that has caused all this trouble."

Jack wasn't sure what to say to that charge. Sure, many of them thought he was thisTur'hava character, but he wasn't yet convinced. For him, this was just another conflict that needed to be won.

"I have been called by that name, yes.Tur'hava. I'm Jack Easterbrook," he said while looking at each of them. "This is my force behind me."

The older man nodded and was the first to kneel, laying prostrate in the sand, his head touching the sand. When he looked up, he locked eyes with Jack. "I'm called Masud. I'm yours to command, Clan Chief."

Jack's eyes swept to the other two men, both of them kneeling with much more reservation. The one in the middle was the next to speak up. "I'm called Wabu of theBurlada. I'm talented with a bow, and I'm a great warrior to have in battle."

Jack nodded his head. "We have a need for good warriors. Welcome, Wabu."

The man on the right was the last to rise, only with some difficulty. Jack could tell his teeth were clenched in anger, an understandable emotion at what he'd lost that day. Still, it didn't prevent him from honoring Andalucian custom.

"I'm Hafiz," he said shortly. "You killed my father."

"There are many that died in battle," said Jack simply. "You should be grateful that you had such a father who would die so gloriously in battle."

Hafiz flinched, his face filling with more anger. "You are my leader now, and I will abide by our laws. But I would suggest you keep your distance from me, Clan Chief."

With that, the man turned heel and walked back to his camp, his shoulders stiff with emotion as he left the other three men.

"Forgive him, Clan Chief," said Masud, as he bowed in front of Jack. "My nephew is every bit his father's son. Hotheaded and ill-tempered, yes, but a good warrior to have at your side regardless."

"There's nothing to forgive, Masud," replied Jack. "I can understand his loss. Tell me more about theBurlada. What is your current strength?"

Wabu answered the question. "Before the battle, there were just over eight thousand of us—men, women, and children. We were the largest clan in all of Andalucia."

"And now? How many of you are left?"

Wabu pursed his lips. "It seems we are down to around fifteen hundred warriors, more or less. Some will recover from their wounds still and add to that number. The rest of our numbers are women and children."

"We could surely use your fighting strength in the coming days," said Jack. "My men in theMuthada and theNumratha have taken great casualties. As well as my own men from back in Java. Your strength will greatly help us."

"What we have in number is an advantage, Clan Chief," said Masud. "However, we are just one clan. If you've taken a great number of casualties, you'll still be even-numbered with the rest of the clans."

Jack nodded while he thought of some of the things he'd heard from the deadSciavo right after the battle. Something he wanted to confirm.

"Masud, how can I end this war? If you were me, what's the best way to end the fighting?"

Masud blinked at him, his gray beard rippling softly in the wind. "What do you mean, Clan Chief? End the fighting?"

"Yes, how can I stop this? I didn't come here to start a war with all of Andalucia," said Jack. "How can I stop the fighting?"

Masud started to smile, obviously not knowing if Jack was joking or not. "These kind of wars only end once the clan chief who started them is dead or enslaved. There will be no peace while you're in charge, Clan Chief. As long as you lead, you will be a threat."

Jack took a deep breath and then looked out to the ocean. "So as long as I live, there will be war?"

Masud nodded. "Or if you willingly surrender into slavery, although I doubt that's much of an option either. They'll let you become a slave if you surrender, but I've never known any man to take this route."

"And the only other way for me to stop it would be to kill every other clan chief in Andalucia?"

The older man nodded again. "A task quite impossible. Although, not if you are theTur'hava. Then you'd just need to remove the high clan king."

Jack turned to look at him.The high clan king?

"So if I manage to kill Vertulis, this war ends?"

"If you can kill him," said Masud with caution. "Since he's the king of all of Andalucia, if you replace him, you would command all the clans. Such is the legend of theTur'hava, the clan-uniter."

So all he needed to do was kill Vertulis and he could put an end to this war? But what was the best way to kill a heavily-guarded warrior-king of Andalucia? How could he even accomplish such an impossible task, knowing that such a warrior had many thousands between him and Jack? Even if he could reach him, would Vertulis engage him in battle to let him do so?

"Tell me, Masud," started Jack. "Would Vertulis fight me in battle? Would he fight alongside his warriors?"

"It's very possible that he would. He was a great warrior before becoming king after all. It's not a prospect that anyone should take lightly after all."

"Why's that?"

Masud shrugged. "Vertulis is always surrounded by his eliteSciavo. They are not only the warrior elite of Andalucia, but they are also his personal bodyguards. It won't be easy to get past them, and even if you did, you'd still have to face Vertulis. Even for a man advanced in age, he can still fight from what I've heard. The strength of the Andalucian king is one of those things highly considered when selecting the next man since his strength is meant to deter the other clan chiefs from rising to take his place."

"So a one-on-one battle is out," said Jack quietly.But what about subterfuge?

"Masud, how easy would it be to slip into the camp of the king undetected?"

"Undetected, Clan Chief? Nearly impossible. Why do you ask?"

Jack smiled grimly. "Because what I have in mind will be public, messy, and the only shot I have at taking out Vertulis once and for all."

*****

"Bazu, will you tell the slaves to quit rocking the carriage so damn much?" complained High Clan King Vertulis as his forces made their way south in the direction of the war. "They're giving me whiplash from the way they keep slinging me about!"

Bazu snapped to attention quickly, taking out his lash and already starting to beat the men who carried the carriage. The profligate beatings did no good for Vertulis, and his carriage rocked even more as the slaves received the unexpected blows.

"Don't beat them right now, you idiot," seethed Vertulis. "Can't you see you're making it worse!"

Bazu turned white as his lash fell harmlessly to the side. "A thousand apologies, Your Majesty."

Vertulis shook his head and sighed. How desperately he wished to send the driveling idiot to the mines. It had been a couple days since they'd set out from Septhada, the king's entourage including most of his court as well as hisSciavo regiments that formed a protective ring around the inner group. Vertulis had almost forgotten the perils of Andalucian weather during the daytime, the sun beating down on his lightly-wrapped scalp with a fury he'd long since noticed. In the fortress of Septhada, they had ways of keeping the temperature down. Out here in the elements, he found himself missing the comforts of ruling.

At least he had the news of the war to keep him occupied. He'd found out about yesterday's defeat from his riders almost immediately after the engagement, with theTur'hava Jack Easterbrook not only living to fight another day but collecting yet another clan into his swelling ranks. Vertulis ground his teeth. It wasn't just any clan that he'd claimed—it was his former clan, theBurlada, who had lost their clan chief, a distant cousin of his. It was only a minor distraction whenever Easterbrook took those smaller clans—theNumratha and theMuthada. TheBurlada were different, powerful enough to throw their weight around. It was an injustice that he wouldn't let stand. Not as long as he was king, and it only added to his purpose to destroy Easterbrook.

Putting it out of his mind for now, Vertulis once more looked out the carriage window at his nearby entourage. He never left his fortress without the comforts of the palace, and all around him could be seen his servants, envoys, slaves, and even his whores. He intended to sacrifice nothing on his way to destroy Jack Easterbrook, no matter how long that might take him. However, it was one envoy in particular that caught his eye, and he quickly snapped his fingers to get his attention.

"Berimund, come join me in the carriage," said Vertulis, waiting as the gray-robed Swabian quietly climbed inside and sat in front of him.

"Greets, Your Majesty," said Berimund with a honeyed-tongue, innocent smile on his lips. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"For one, please pass along my thanks to your lord back in Swabia. I always have a need for funding, and I'm sure that will come in handy in the coming weeks."

"Lord Avila is happy to placate his own allies," said Berimund smoothly. "He always knew we'd be able to set reasonable accommodations with the Andalucian king."

"Are you in contact often with your lord? How often do you get messages back to him?"

"Often enough that he knows what's going on in Andalucia," said Berimund vaguely. "There isn't much that escapes his notice. He's very adept at reading the situations of his allies and his enemies."

Vertulis chuckled. "And what does he make of our situation?"

"He's watching it very closely. He doesn't privilege me with his opinions, but I do know that he's as committed as ever to securing our means of commerce that we've worked so hard to establish."

"Well, that's comforting to say the least," said Vertulis. "I wouldn't be able to do half of what I wanted without the assistance you're providing. It's just as—"

The king never completed his sentence as Bazu stuck his head inside the carriage. "Your Majesty, a rider has just appeared at the front of our column. He says that Jack Easterbrook wishes to surrender to you!"

Vertulis snapped to attention. "Come again? He wishes tosurrender?"

Bazu nodded his head incessantly. "That's what he claims. He says Easterbrook is on his way towards you at this very moment. Not long after the battle ended, he surrendered himself to a group ofSciavo, and they are bringing him here as we speak. He claims he wants his surrender to end the war. Says he'll willingly be a slave if it means an end of hostilities."

Vertulis threw his head back and laughed. "So he wishes to quit after only a few battles? Perhaps I misjudged this man. To want to surrender that easily—he could never have been theTur'hava. This is truly a great day. While I wouldn't mind getting my sword bloody with this man's guts, it never hurts to have a war end before you even arrive either."

"If I might ask, Your Majesty," interjected Berimund from in front of him. "What is to become of this Jack Easterbrook? What will you do with him? Kill him, yes?"

Vertulis shrugged noncommittally. "It matters not now to me what happens to him. Clan chiefs don't surrender. They forfeit their right to lead if they do so. To that end, he's no longer clan chief of any of the clans so he matters not to me anymore. I'll throw him down into the mines. He could last a long time down in there or not a long time at all. Either way, he's not my problem anymore."

Berimund nodded quickly while he listened. "Your Majesty, I hope you don't fault me for voicing my opinion, but I'm of the belief that this is a dangerous man. This Easterbrook has caused a lot of trouble in this part of the world, not just in Andalucia. Lord Avila knows of him and believes him to be a troublemaker. No doubt you would make my lord a very grateful patron if you were to serve him Easterbrook's head on a silver platter."

"It doesn't matter to me what happens to him," said Vertulis casually. "Make him a slave or kill him, I care not. He'll be in for a rude awakening though if he thinks he can just surrender to me to spare his life."

"Especially if you kill him on the spot when he might expect to just be enslaved," sneered Berimund. "Can you imagine the sight? He'll think he's forfeited his rights but soon finds a sword in his stomach. It will be a fitting end for such a troublemaker."

Vertulis started to chuckle. "I like the way you think, Berimund. I wonder if Lord Avila would be acceptable to sharing you from time to time. I could use servants who utilize their brains more often." The king cast an annoyed glimpse over to Bazu.

Berimund inclined his head. "Unfortunately, Lord Avila is most possessive when it comes to his assets, although your kindness is much appreciated."

"A pity," said Vertulis with a shrug. "It was worth asking."

"I think you'll find relations between yourself and my lord quite. . . elevated by the killing of Easterbrook," said Berimund. "And I'm sure he'll send much more gold your way for the accomplishment. As a way of saying thanks."

"We could always use more gold," said the king covetously. "Fine, it's decided then. We'll not enslave Easterbrook when he arrives. We'll kill him on the spot instead. I'll have my men remove his head from his shoulders as a gift to my dependable Swabian ally in exchange for a chest of gold crowns? That's fair, wouldn't you say?"

Berimund seemed to struggle to retain his complexion. Vertulis knew he was asking for a small fortune by any standard, a price completely inflated for one man's head, no matter how much of a nuisance he was.