Champions of the Apocalypse (15 page)

“What’s the plan Synne?”

“Plan, yeah, that would be a good idea. Look, if we stay on the train they’ll catch us. I suggest we get off now and scout this place. Agree?”

Jonas nodded and the two of them leapt from the side of the train without a moment’s hesitation. Synne hit the grass first, followed by Jonas. As they rolled along the ground, they came to a stop and moved to the nearest bit of cover, a small grove of trees. As they waited in the darkness, Synne turned to Jonas.

“How is the shoulder doing?”

“Sore, I wouldn’t want to use it in a fight. I’ll live,” he said though Synne looked less than convinced.

She had seen similar wounds in the past when Ulric and his fighters had returned from battle. These kinds of wounds could quickly move from a small hole to an infection that could spread and lead to all kinds of complications. She was tempted to send him back but she needed him too much to consider asking. She also doubted he would return when they had a chance, however small, to be able to help the survivors from Haven. Right now, they needed information and they needed it fast.

From their position in the tree line, they looked out at the now halted train and the settlement they had arrived at. The bridge functioned almost like a fortified entrance, as across the bridge was a large wooden gate that extended out into a low perimeter palisade, not dissimilar to the wall running around Haven. Luckily, they were inside the settlement, otherwise they would have to try and find a way inside the place. Looking through the inside revealed a bizarre place. Off to the distance was a low hill on top of which was a recently erected fortified hall that featured its own palisade and towers. Between the two sets of walls were workshops and storage buildings from which people hauled the materials from the train. Several dirt roads ran through the settlement and out to another two fortified gates, one leading north and the other to the east.
 

“Look, is that what I think it is?” asked Jonas as he pointed to a series of rough looking wooden buildings to the west.

Synne strained her eyes but she couldn’t really see whatever it was that Jonas had identified.

“What?”

“Look, there are carts on a small track going into that tunnel,” he said as he pointed.

“Ah, that explains it, a mine. What do you think they’re after?” she asked.

“Well, didn’t you say they were unloading a rock or something black at the trading post?”

“You’re right, it looked like coal. They must be operating a mine with forced labour and then shipping the raw materials back to the Trading Post to sell or trade for other items.”

“What are they doing with all this though?” asked Jonas.

“What about those buildings?” said Synne as she pointed to the buildings running in long columns around the fortress on the hill. “They look like military barracks to me.”

“Barracks, but they could hold hundreds of people,” said Jonas with a serious tone to his voice.

“Come on,” said Synne.

She slipped from out of the cover of the trees and followed the low stone wall that ran alongside one of the dirt roads leading to the fortified hall. They moved from building to building, always doing their utmost to stay in the shadows and away from the occasional guard that walked past. Off to the right, and away from the buildings, came a terrible smell and the sound of flies and other insects buzzing about. The two moved nearer to find the source of the smell but it was clearly coming from a large open space near the wall. As they moved closer they noticed a number of carts waiting to be hitched up to horses. On each wagon were numbers of cloths covering long shapes. Jonas moved to the nearest and pulled himself up onto the end of the cart. As it rocked a little an object swung out from under the cloths, it was a bruised arm. He jumped back and audibly gasped at the sight of the horror. Synne approached and examined the arm in more details.

“Dead, and for at least a few days. These must be the workers in the mine, don’t you think?” she asked.

Jonas turned away and with a gut wrenching groan, vomited onto the ground. He wiped his face and turned back.

“The bastards, do you think this is what they’ll do to our people?”

“Maybe, assuming they are even here. Come on!” she said as she moved off to the nearest building and back to the shadows and safety.

As they reached a position close to the wooden wall around the hall, a low building caught the attention of Jonas. He stopped and moved closer to the door though he had to be careful as there were two torches burning gently outside. As he slowly walked further along the shadows moved and a well-armed guard came out.

Jonas and Synne froze, hoping they wouldn’t be detected by the guard. Fortunately, the man appeared to be far more interested in drinking whatever was in his tankard to spot them. Synne and Jonas crept back to the safety of the wall and tried to peek inside. The windows were very small and fitted with thick iron bars. They were raised almost five feet from the ground.

“I’m guessing they don’t want anybody getting out of this place,” said Jonas as he tried to see through the gap but he couldn’t quite reach high enough.

Synne tried to lift herself up but like Jonas she couldn’t quite reach.

“Give me a lift up,” she asked.

Jonas put his hands together and with Synne placing one foot in his palms he easily lifted her up to the gap. Once she reached it, she grabbed the bars with both hands and took some of the weight away from Jonas. She peeked in and at first could see nothing. It was completely dark inside and there appeared to be no torches or lanterns of any kind. As her eyes became accustomed to the low light though, she noticed a number of people along one of the walls. She stared closely before realising that there were scores of people, each of them sitting or lying down and they were chained to the wall. She looked from left to right, noting the other corridors and rooms, each one full of the same numbers of people. She looked down to Jonas.

“I’m coming down.”

As she touched the ground, Jonas moved closer.

“Well?” he asked.

“Prisoners, hundreds of them.”

Jonas, overcome by the excitement and the possibilities the news created forgot to keep quiet and called out much louder than he intended.

“Anybody you can recognise?”

Synne placed her finger to her mouth and Jonas, quickly remembering where they were, came over with a cold feeling that you only feel when something truly awful is about to happen.

“Nobody but it was really dark. Keep your voice down!”

“What are we going to do? This place is crawling with guards and there are only two of us?” asked Jonas as he fidgeted.

As they considered their options, two more guards walked slowly past. One carried what looked like a large hammer on his shoulder whilst the other carried an oil lamp that flickered, casting hard shadows wherever it went. Both men wore the rough clothing that seemed to be the uniform of the many bands of Raiders throughout the Wastelands along the borders of the North.

“Why don’t we…” said Jonas, before being cut off.

“Hey!” shouted a man as he approached the two from a corner.

It was one of the Raiders, and on seeing the two intruders staying low to the wall, he turned to shout. Synne was on him in a flash and with one hand over his mouth, she plunged her narrow but wickedly pointed dagger deep into his throat. Black blood pumped out from the severed artery as he dropped to the ground, gurgling. Jonas ran over and helped pin him to the ground whilst looked suspiciously about for any more signs of trouble. With a final kick, the men went still, the life literally having drained out of him.

Synne lifted herself up and signalled for him to help her drag the body to the wall near the building. He was heavy but between the two of them, they did it quickly. Jonas groaned as he helped move the weight, the pain in his shoulder starting to kick in. With the body now out of the way, they looked about at their options.

“I say we break in now and try and get as many out as we can,” said Synne.

“Are you kidding? We have no food or weapons for them and you saw the ground heading to the South. They will have to run for miles out in the open before they even hit the mountains. What then? The Raiders have the train and mounted warriors. I say we get back and tell the League about what we have found. They must take action,” he argued.

Synne, starting to look angry, grabbed him and pulled him close so that her face was just a few inches away. At this distance, he could see the dark blood still tricking down her pale face.

“My brother, my friends and my people could be in there, I will not forsake them in this place when all I have to do is act. One more day and they could be dead!” she said angrily.

She turned and made her way to the doorway leading into the first building. The main entrance was a covered porch area that led to two large wooden doors. She placed her hand on the left door and applied a tiny amount of pressure. The door started to move and a squeak from its hinges made her stop. She turned to check on Jonas and was glad to see he had followed. She reached down and drew her sword, holding it close to her side whilst keeping her left hand free. Jonas did the same and moved up so he was close to the door.

“Ready?” she asked.

Jonas nodded. With a flicker of her wrist, she indicated for Jonas to open the door. As it swung open, she darted inside. The space was dark and cold and split into two corridors, one straight ahead and the other running from left to right. As she tried to gauge her position, a man lifted himself from a chair that was resting against the wall and in the shadows.

“Jonas!” she cried.

The man had barely reached his feet before she struck the man with a savage punch to the face. The blow struck his nose and cheek, spreading blood across his face. As he stumbled backwards, she followed him down to the floor and placed her knee on his chest.

“Take it easy!” cried Jonas as he moved ahead to restrain her.

“Back off, Jonas, he might have information!”

Turning back to the man on the floor, she applied a little more pressure to his chest before speaking.

“Who are these people?” she demanded.

“What?” spluttered the man.

“These prisoners, why are they here? Where are they from?” she asked again, putting more pressure on him.

He cried out in pain, the pressure obviously starting to take its toll.

“Workers,” he muttered, “workers for the mine.”

“Why are they chained up? Where are they from?” she said as loudly as she dared.

“Ask them yourself,” he said before struggling again.

* * *

Thrax had been on the move all day yet his stamina was exceptional and he showed no outward signs of tiredness. Though he had stopped for a short number of breaks, he had been on the move for hours. As expected he had met not a soul on his journey, this was hardly surprising though as he had seen nobody in these parts for several years. Only the occasional trader or student would come to him and they would always be from the South. Only a fool would head past the mountains and into the wild lands known to be occupied by the ever-embattled Raiders. Thrax had often wondered why most people didn’t just didn’t leave the Raiders to themselves and their self destructive tendencies. Any truce between them didn’t seem to last more than a few months, sometimes just days.

The road, as expected, had allowed him to slash the time of his journey, by his estimation he could be only an hour away from the Trading Post. The sound of rushing water announced his arrival at the river that divided this section of the land and at one point in the past had stood as a border between territories.

As he walked down the road, he came to a large section that had collapsed into the river. At some point, a bridge had run though this part of the terrain but either the water or some other event had destroyed it and left just large clumps of rock and earth across the river. A series of wooden planks formed a rickety bridge that moved over its length but looked less than safe. As he made to move to the first section, he noticed movement on the other side of the river. He ducked down and as he did, managed to knock a small rock down the side of the riverbank. It clattered and bumped before dropping in the water.

“Who’s there?” came a voice on the other side.

Thrax lifted his head slowly so he could get a look at those on the other side. From a pouch on his jacket, he brought out an old, battered pair of binoculars. He lifted them and though the image was slightly blurred, he could now see the strangers. From his position, it looked like there were three of them, two men and a woman plus a mule and a cart. The two older people of the three were standing near the cart whilst the third stood on the riverbank. The closest man was no warrior though he carried a staff that he tried to hold in as threatening manner as he could manage. They didn’t look like trouble, so Thrax lifted himself up though kept a wary eye on the surroundings.