The Beclin man went down with a grunt. Url was
quickly over him and he took his gun off him and handed it to Brakin who was
now beside him. “You gun now,” Url grunted glancing at
Brakin, and then took out his long bladed skinning knife. He rested the point
against his enemy’s throat and lightly jabbed, a small amount of blood flowed. Url was now sitting on his chest.
“Why come,” Url shouted.
“Why,” his jabbed a little harder.
“Hunting,” came a whispered
answer.
“Lie, no hunt. Why come?”
The terrified man didn’t answer. Url twisted his knife and the man screamed.
“You tell, why come?”
“We were told you were here,” the man answered with a
croaking voice.
Url leaned down closer to the man’s head. “You attack
village? Answer or die slow.”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Raiding party, fifteen…” Those were the last words
that man ever said. Url thrust his knife deeply into
his throat and savagely twisted the blade killing the man instantly. Url waited until the convulsions stopped then quickly
stripped the body of all valuables. He gave the ammunition and black powder
horn to Brakin and kept the knives, necklace, gloves, boots and small trinkets
to be shared among those at the village. He threw the man’s body off the cliff.
Brakin had heard what the man said and quickly
gathered up what they needed. They would have to leave the sled and the skin
but carefully packed the eyes into a special pocket in his inner skin. He
released the goat to fend for itself. The skin would be lost as animals were
bound to pick up the scent of blood and eat it.
Brakin thanked Url for the
gun. It was a handsome weapon equal to the one ruined by the cat.
“Go fast now,” Url said
pulling Brakin by the arm.
The two men made their way along the trail. It was
easier going with the wind at their backs but the anticipation of what they
would find at the village made both men anxious. Raids by Beclin were not
uncommon and loss of life was mostly minimal but always resulted in a
retaliatory raid which was equally expensive for the Beclin. The conflicts were
always over hunting areas; inter tribal jealously, or for women.
Url pressed on at an alarming rate. Brakin tried to
reason with him but realised he was wasting his time. Brakin decided caution
was not an option and took the same risks as Url .
Brakin felt instantly pleased with his decision and their pace picked up. Now
the weather was an asset, not an obstacle as it was earlier.
Url had his gun at the ready when they crossed onto the
plateau where the village was located on the extreme edge. His movements became
rhythmic and calculated as the village came within range of his gun. He stopped
and motioned Brakin to his side. The village lay below at the end of a gentle
slope. They could just make out the shape of the lodges.
“You go that way,” Url told
his friend and dropped over the ledge of a short incline into powdery snow. He
made his way forward and disappeared into heavy undergrowth towards the
village.
Brakin slid down the incline and made his way
into the undergrowth. He tired to circle around to the left but the frozen
creek he was following was blocked with large snow drifts. He was forced to
doubled back and follow in Url’s footprints. With all
the caution he could muster he advanced to the edge of the village. He
immediately found a body in the snow. A large area of blood soaked snow
surrounded its head. Its throat slit from ear to ear. Brakin counted another
two dead Beclin, before he came across the first body of a villager. It was of
a young woman, the daughter of a friend who had violently resisted her captors.
Her bloody body frozen and her wide open eyes transmitted her horror to the
living. Brakin dropped to his knees beside her and closed her eyes. He removed
his outer skin from his shoulders and gently covered her body. Tears streamed
down
quickly over him and he took his gun off him and handed it to Brakin who was
now beside him. “You gun now,” Url grunted glancing at
Brakin, and then took out his long bladed skinning knife. He rested the point
against his enemy’s throat and lightly jabbed, a small amount of blood flowed. Url was now sitting on his chest.
“Why come,” Url shouted.
“Why,” his jabbed a little harder.
“Hunting,” came a whispered
answer.
“Lie, no hunt. Why come?”
The terrified man didn’t answer. Url twisted his knife and the man screamed.
“You tell, why come?”
“We were told you were here,” the man answered with a
croaking voice.
Url leaned down closer to the man’s head. “You attack
village? Answer or die slow.”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Raiding party, fifteen…” Those were the last words
that man ever said. Url thrust his knife deeply into
his throat and savagely twisted the blade killing the man instantly. Url waited until the convulsions stopped then quickly
stripped the body of all valuables. He gave the ammunition and black powder
horn to Brakin and kept the knives, necklace, gloves, boots and small trinkets
to be shared among those at the village. He threw the man’s body off the cliff.
Brakin had heard what the man said and quickly
gathered up what they needed. They would have to leave the sled and the skin
but carefully packed the eyes into a special pocket in his inner skin. He
released the goat to fend for itself. The skin would be lost as animals were
bound to pick up the scent of blood and eat it.
Brakin thanked Url for the
gun. It was a handsome weapon equal to the one ruined by the cat.
“Go fast now,” Url said
pulling Brakin by the arm.
The two men made their way along the trail. It was
easier going with the wind at their backs but the anticipation of what they
would find at the village made both men anxious. Raids by Beclin were not
uncommon and loss of life was mostly minimal but always resulted in a
retaliatory raid which was equally expensive for the Beclin. The conflicts were
always over hunting areas; inter tribal jealously, or for women.
Url pressed on at an alarming rate. Brakin tried to
reason with him but realised he was wasting his time. Brakin decided caution
was not an option and took the same risks as Url .
Brakin felt instantly pleased with his decision and their pace picked up. Now
the weather was an asset, not an obstacle as it was earlier.
Url had his gun at the ready when they crossed onto the
plateau where the village was located on the extreme edge. His movements became
rhythmic and calculated as the village came within range of his gun. He stopped
and motioned Brakin to his side. The village lay below at the end of a gentle
slope. They could just make out the shape of the lodges.
“You go that way,” Url told
his friend and dropped over the ledge of a short incline into powdery snow. He
made his way forward and disappeared into heavy undergrowth towards the
village.
Brakin slid down the incline and made his way
into the undergrowth. He tired to circle around to the left but the frozen
creek he was following was blocked with large snow drifts. He was forced to
doubled back and follow in Url’s footprints. With all
the caution he could muster he advanced to the edge of the village. He
immediately found a body in the snow. A large area of blood soaked snow
surrounded its head. Its throat slit from ear to ear. Brakin counted another
two dead Beclin, before he came across the first body of a villager. It was of
a young woman, the daughter of a friend who had violently resisted her captors.
Her bloody body frozen and her wide open eyes transmitted her horror to the
living. Brakin dropped to his knees beside her and closed her eyes. He removed
his outer skin from his shoulders and gently covered her body. Tears streamed
down
Similar Books
