Brett 3 | planet-helen-project

III.

The pain wasn’t the worst part, though it was pretty fucking bad. Even the sullen feeling of failure, and the codling of his peers as they gingerly brought him to his feet wasn’t what was driving his desperation. It wasn’t even the fear of plans slipping through his hands again. No, it was the look in Hallen Alwice’s eyes when he swung his staff. The decision wasn’t hard for Hal, for the alternative could have only been worse. Had Hal lost that much hope? Had the supposed death of his friend been what drove him to suicide? Harver Jun was so mixed with emotion he almost didn’t know how he felt.
Part of him was happy that Hal had finally faced his fear; proud of the courageous act of maintaining honor and justice.
Even if that justice was shit.
Another part of him wanted to spit in Hal’s dead eyes. When finally confronted with the truth of what had happened that day seven years ago, Hal had decided it would be easier to die. Part of Harver Jun was enraged at the loss of trust, and the second betrayal of a once close friend.
The last part of Jun was silent. It was his outward side. It glanced at the limp body on the rough terrain not far off and watched blood seep into the grove of Grass-kin. It watched the life and memories of his childhood pool around the cracked skull in dark violet blood. With Morendo as a witness, Harver Jun had seen to the death of his last true tie to his past. But he was not responsible.
When Hal lashed out against Jun, he was neglecting the truth.
When he made the choice to flight instead of flee, he wasn’t being brave.
He was mimicking retribution.
By attacking, he had sealed his fate.
By attacking, Hal had fulfilled everything he had believed in as a child.
And he had destroyed everything Harver Jun had hoped would become of his long lost friend. But Hal wasn’t interested in the truth; in fact he was terrified of it. Striking when the moment was most opportune, Hal was making his last effort to live in ignorance. He had forsaken Jun on that day years ago, and he had done it again tonight.
Jun was not responsible. How could he be?
Some things are better left unknown. Voices rose all around him, and those holding him up were asking him questions. Would Hal have chosen to die if he knew the truth? Would I have spared him if he was willing to follow me? Jun honestly didn’t know, and some things were better left unknown.
“What do we do now?”
“Curse this fucking moon! I knew the folly in this—”
Voices argued and clashed over what was to be said, more shadows bled into the clearing until they were just short of two dozen.
“Most of the night is lost; to attack now is suicide!” Everet Sanson complained, which had been an increasing habit of late. Some raised their voices in agreement.
“We need to set Jun’s arm, his wrist is likely broken.”
“He needs rest, that cut on his head lost him a lot of blood.”
“How are you feeling, Jun? Can you stand on your own?” The voices washed over him, codling him into a rage. Perhaps this was worse than Hal’s betrayal. “I can get a hart, let Four-horn carry you home.” The words were meant to reassure, to sooth. Jun just grit his teeth. The pain arched across his face, but his hand was dead at the end of his right arm when he tried to move it. The pain shot up his side, and he cried out in shock. Everyone jumped to his aid.
“Give him some space!” “You’re crowding him!” “This isn’t good…”
“Rotting Justices! I’m going to kill the whole Fucking lot!”
“Get my Hart, we need to get him back to the Crux!”
“We can’t turn back now!”
The panic was starting to spread, something had to be done, but when Jun spoke the gash on his face split wider. This caused a chain reaction of grimace induced pain that wouldn’t subside until he forced himself to relax his face. The others were silent now, looking on at him with concern. His arm throbbed even where the staff hadn’t struck. He had to make a decision fast.
How could he lead if he couldn’t even speak? Was he still fit for this?
Was this even the right choice?
The wind blew and blood dripped off his face. He glanced down to his limp right hand.
It was broken, but he was not.
That’s when he knew what needed to be done, and in that moment she was beside him. The moonlight glinted off that pale white mask of hers, casting it in violet shadows. In her arms she still clutched the scythe, Hal’s blood dripping off the tip. Harver Jun looked deep into her green eyes, and for a moment there seemed to be understanding. Jun nodded, and shrugged off the arms that held him.
Sana Lanson took it from there.
“Nor, do you have any Ghielrout?” Nor Makus made a move to search her bag but Sana was already onto the next step. “Corin, round up the harts, and tell the waiting men to prepare themselves. Everet, take Four-horn and make your way back to the Crux. Let Manala know we plan to proceed with tonight’s plan, and make no mention of Jun’s injuries.” Everet Lanson made a move to object, but Sana grabbed him by the collar and whispered something in his ear before shoving him away.
“I have Ghielrout, Sana.” Nor Makus moved through the throng of choas. “But it may not be enough to induce sleep—”
“Good. Jun’s coming with us.” There was a near thunderous uproar of disapproval from the others, and Jun had to fight from smiling. “Enough.” They faded their complaints and all was silent, except for Corin who urged his Hart into the darkness of the woods. “Hallen Alwice’s death will not go un-noticed for long. Once they realize he is gone, they will be on alert. We have to act now.”
“But Jun—”
“Will be coming with us.” Sana risked Jun a glance, but he just nodded in confirmation. The others voiced concern but he held up a hand to silence them. “I said that’s enough. The more we dawdle the more our opportunity slips away from us. We can’t afford to balk. This night will leave many of us with hard decisions, you all know that! There’s no turning back, there’s no ‘next year’. This is our year! This the moment we’ve been preparing for! This is the night that we take back Harvesthome!” Sana’s green eyes shown in the faint moonlight, her passion was contagious and some of the others seemed to shake their indecision. Harver Jun watched her closely; she would make a good leader. After all, she was a leader before Harvesthome betrayed her.
“She’s right.” Ronea Hobbin called after.
“This is the time for revenge!” Her sister Mona chimed in.
“No.” Sana interjected. There was a pause in the certainty, as the others looked on to her. “This night will be remembered in the history of Harvesthome, but it is not revenge.” She hefted the Harvester’s scythe across her shoulder and pulled off her mask. Morendo’s light cast dramatic shadow across her stern features.
“This. Is. Justice.”
If she didn’t have them before, she did now. Jun laughed despite the pain and thrust his hand into the air. The others jumped on his lead and did the same, their cheer of approval was a silent sign of encouragement. Jun had been the catalyst, but he had to rely on them to carry it through; no matter what happened to him. There was no turning back from here. They would be killing people they used to know, maybe even family. This night was not going to be about revenge; it wasn’t even going to be satisfying. It was about doing what was right, it was about bringing Justice to the wicked. The night was just beginning, and by the time Corna rose in the morning sky, Harvesthome would be theirs.
The second Blood Harvest was about to occur.
“Try not to flinch.” Sana’s words were soft, reassuring. But when the long needle pushed through the tear on his face, no amount of Ghielrout could have dulled the pain. Jun could feel the tug of the thread as Sana pulled the needle free and looped it back around for another stab of pain. Nor Makus had used the hilt of her knife to mash the Ghielrout into a paste, and then spread it along the top of Jun’s mouth and packed it under his tongue. The taste was so bitter, that Jun had to fight to keep his face relaxed. He focused on other things, trying to distract himself from the taste and pain of the stitches. It was just moments before their preparations were complete. Jun knew that whether his face was sewn up or not, he was going to lead the Woodsmen in this.
Sana stabbed him again, and Jun winced. “Fuck, Jun. Sit still, you almost pulled the gut out.” Her voice was stern, but her face showed no anger. Her brow was knit in consternation, hands working on his face, Jun breathed through his nose and blinked the water from his eyes. “Nor, prepare me more Ghielrout.”
“Uhn.” It was all Jun could manage without moving his lips. His face was a bloody mess from the bottom of his left jaw up across his lips, under his nose and narrowly missing his right eye. From what Sana said the cut was jagged but not deep, meaning it didn’t bleed that much but it would leave a vicious scar. Jun hadn’t cared, let it scar. It was the sign of his resolution; his stigma of making a choice he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Let people look at his face and see him as a monster.
The deaths of his mother and best friend were already on his hands. Why not wear them on his face as well?
The youngest Hobbin girl, Eena, had been somewhat skilled in the arts of healing. Shortly after Harver Jun had been administered the disgusting anesthetic, Eena had gone to work on setting his arm. She was timid, but living with the Woodsmen had made her strong. The fabric holding the stint to the broken bone was tight, and even though he wouldn’t be able to use the arm for quite some time it looked better than it had a few moments ago. At least, it wasn’t twisted at a sickening angle. When she finished her work, she moved back and hid beneath the shadows of a nearby tree. She avoided Sana and Jun, only talking to Nor Makus about the details of her work. His wrist wasn’t broke, but the bone in his forearm had completely cracked. It would be a long time healing.
Stab. Jun flinched again.
“Nor, Ghielrout.” But Jun held of his hand. “If you are going to keep flinching like this, I’ll just have to knock you out. Then we’ll have to do all this without you.” Jun glared deep into Sana’s eyes but she ignored his gaze, focusing on her detailed work. Even in the faint light of Morendo her eyes were brilliant green. Her warm breath brushed against his face, the closeness of her made him uneasy; but she didn’t seem to sense it. “Could you imagine that? Years of preparation, and it’d all be ruined because you’re not man enough for a few face stitches?” She smiled wryly and—
Stab.
This time he didn’t flinch, though his eyes watered as the thread pulled on his tender flesh. She had claimed to be good at this, but Jun wasn’t too sure. Even with his dulled senses it seemed that Sana was intentionally hurting him. “Your skin is young though, it’ll heal nicely.” Young? Jun wasn’t so sure. Living with the Woodsmen had changed him. They spent most of their time in the shade of the Queenwood, rarely venturing into the fields unless it was on night-time raids. Because of this, many of the Woodsmen had become pale skinned, their dark beards growing in bushy tangles. After two years of living with the outcasts, Jun was just starting to look like them. Perhaps this scar would hasten that process.
Stab. Pull. Pain. Nor Makus stepped forward with a thick green paste scooped in her palm. She gave Jun a reassuring smile, her wrinkled features seemed endearing. Of course Jun knew better. Nor Makus may be elderly but that age had only made her the most bitter of the Woodsmen. Her limbs were wiry, but certainly not frail; and the bent back was a ruse that hid her real strength in her baggy grey robes. Nor had been a Gatherer after all; an extremely dedicated and passionate member of Harvesthome. She had been a mother of two and a great-mother of four back in Harvesthome, but she had given up that life to become the mother of hundreds. The Woodsmen respected her; they trusted her wisdom and obeyed her insight. When Joleb Makus disappeared into the woods, she had stayed overnight to continue searching for him. The Justices had tried to stop her, but she told them that she was old and tired.
‘I lived a good life, and I reserve the right to send it off to the Holy Horizon’ she would tell the Woodsmen around their cooking pits. ‘Then when those Shit-eating Justices turned their tales at the first sign of sunset, I took off into the Queenwood.’ Harver Jun respected her courage; she hadn’t known the Woodsmen would take her in.
Joleb was never found.
“Open your mouth, but not too wide.” Jun slowly spread his mouth, feeling the new stitches grow taught. Sana hadn’t left much slack for movement. “My, my, my Sana. You have a steady hand. Imagine what a lovely lady the Southern Cities would have turned you into.” The smile on Nor’s mouth, was flat; her eyes twinkled with humor. She played the part just perfect; no wonder she was their first choice for spying.
“There’s enough gut left for you, witch.”
“Ah, go lay a frost-heave, you frozen bitch…” Nor mumbled, but her words turned into a chuckle. Sana smiled wide, roughly muddling Nor’s long peppered hair. Nor swatted away the hand with a quick slap, “bah, be gone. Let the adults talk.” Nor spooned some paste onto two of her bony fingers. “No respect for the elderly.” She stuck her thin fingers into Jun’s mouth and spread the bitter paste across his palate. The taste was fucking awful. Even more torture than the pain.
“Elderly? Save your feeble-woman act for your next victim.” Nonetheless Sana stepped back; people feared Nor Makus. “I won’t be caught off-guard by your witch-craft.”
“Witch-craft? Oh-ho. That’s clever, my deary. No, witchcraft my sweet-thing. No, no, just a poor old frail woman. A poor woman with a tired soul, and even more tired bones.” Nor’s voice had shifted to a shaky old woman, the affect was eerie. How many people thought she was helpless before she killed them? “This Ghielrout is going to make you tired, Jun. I know you are eager for blood, but to push yourself too hard may make our cause collapse. You must pace yourself.” Sana had moved out of earshot, and was exchanging words with Eena. In the shade, Jun couldn’t make out their expressions; but they seemed tense. “This is a difficult moment, for us. Much lies in balance.” She scooped some more paste, “raise your tongue. There.” The paste filled his mouth with an earthy taste, and tingled in his cut. “Now. Since you’re completely incapable of speech, perhaps I can get my words out without interruption?”
Jun tensed. Here it came.
“Sana needs a husband.” The age old argument arose again, only this time Jun couldn’t argue. Harver Jun half suspected that Nor Makus was a suitor in another life, the amount of effort she went through to match Jun and Sana was astounding. Determined was an understatement; Jun just rolled his eyes. How could she possibly be bringing this up now? “Oh don’t give me that, I know what you’re thinking. You’d fuck her quick enough, but given the chance to make a commitment and you’re as weak as a Thrush-ray in Morendo. Don’t look at me like that, I know how you men think!” Despite the respect and fear, she really was an old hag at heart. She scooped the rest of the paste and forced her fingers into his mouth, gripping his bottom jaw. The pain shot through his cut.
“Ugh!”
“Got your attention now?” She looked him dead in the eyes, the darkness shown with mischief. “Sana is dedicated to you, fool. She’s by your side more than any of the other exiles. She’s a strong young woman, but she’s reckless. She’s impatient, head-strong, and cock-sure…pardon the term.” She let his jaw go, and Jun close his mouth tight. “If you don’t make your move, she’ll get herself killed.” There was a long pause, Jun glanced over to Sana and saw her hand a knife to Eena. The young girl took the knife and stared as if expecting it to speak. “I won’t let you waste a good life like hers.” The words were hushed, as if he were not meant to hear. “I know your mind, Jun. I know your plans reach far beyond the fields of Harvesthome.” All the showy feebleness had left her voice, now it was husky and strong. “A marriage between you and Sana would unite the people of Harvesthome to us. They think we are only capable of destruction, they believe us to be savages. Perhaps with a marriage they can understand that our way is the path to righteousness… Think on it.” Nor backed away from her work, and gently patted his cheek. She made a quick glance to Sana and then leaned close again. “Besides,” she started in a dark tone, “I’ve seen smaller hindquarters on a deer!” She nudged him playfully and danced away chuckling. Jun fought the embarrassment that washed over him. “Good as new!” She said loud enough for the others to hear.
“About time. I’ve got to get him sewn up before tomorrow.” Sana stalked over on long legs. Odd that Jun hadn’t noticed that before… Fucking Nor. He shrugged all the thoughts aside except for the task at hand. He had to focus; he had to be prepared for the night and the death that would soon follow. He couldn’t think about marrying Sana; especially not now. He was already dedicated to his cause. Justice was his lover; revenge was his vice. Besides, Nor Makus was just mocking him; giving him something to think about while his face was attacked with a needle and thread.
Sana sat across from him, holding the needle in the moonlight for him to see. “Did you miss me?” A wicked smile spread across her face. Stab. Jun didn’t flinch because he couldn’t even feel it. The Ghielrout was taking a stronger affect. “Preparations are almost done; Jore Horpe should be here within the hour with the harts. Corin returned with more Woodsmen than I anticipated; and Everet is rallying support from the Crux. If things go wrong, we’ll be able to fall back into the Queenwood.” She gave the string a long tug, Jun could hardly feel it. Judging by the sight of his wet blood on her hands, he knew he was still in bad shape. Her warm breath brushed against his face, it smelled of flowers and cinnamon; but Jun couldn’t figure how he knew that. His head spun. “And if we sweep through and win decisively, then the Woodsmen will have new homes by morning.” Her smile was bright, despite the violence she foreshadowed. She tugged the thread through one last time and knotted it affectively with one deft fingers
While talking with Eena, she must have tied her hair in a braid. Only a small sliver fell across her brow, the thick mass of smooth blonde hair was in a single braid pull tightly behind her ears. Her face looked youthful, despite being two years his elder. She cut the gut with her knife, and threaded more gut onto the end of her needle. “Don’t get too excited, I have to sew your bottom lip back together.” She scrunched her eyebrows together looking at his chin. “Nor sure did pack your mouth. You’ve got paste pushing through your cut.” Sana delicately wiped a finger along his knife wound, removing the excess Ghielrout. Jun’s head spun, but there was no pain. This was a different sensation, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the anesthetic or the touch. He thought about what Nor had said, Jun’s thoughts felt hazy. He was married to Justice, but justice made for poor company on a cold night…
Either way, he shook off his haziness.
“Fuck, Jun! You pulled the needle from my hands!” She clasped his jaw in her hand and made quick work of the last three stitches. “Shit! That last one pulled free. Don’t think we have time to patch it.” She looked deep into his eyes, concern spread across her brow. “You’re eyes are dilated, can’t even see the blue in them.” She faded for a moment, becoming blurry.
Jun fought the unconsciousness. He spat the Ghielrout from his mouth. He had to stay awake.
“Jun you have to rest now.” The voice was muffled, but he shook his head again.
“No.” His voice was dry, sore. “Water.” Without thinking he held out his broken arm, the pain was non-existent. But where he half expected to be handed a water-skin, he felt his chin being pushed back and water being directly poured into his mouth. He swished than spat. “Again.” The water was cool, it cleared his head a little.
“Jun.”
“I’m ready. Where’s… my hart?” He stood up, his head spinning. He didn’t fight the dizziness, he just stood firm. Sana stood as well, her eyes nearly level with his. She was tall. He stepped forward and she was there to put her arm around him. He was going to yell at her, but the words froze in his mouth. The feel of her arms around him, as she helped him walk. The warmth of her pressed close was…Nice. This was nice.
He smiled dumbly.
“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face.” Sana growled. “You’re lucky your drugged and wounded, or I’d fucking throttle you.” Jun couldn’t help but laugh. I could use a good throttling. Nor’s words echoing in his skull. Ah, the power of insinuation. He somehow managed to get on the massive deer, and steady himself before asking for more water; this time offering his off hand.
He drank greedily, and shook his head one last time. The world seemed to sharpen around him. Sana moved to her hart, effortlessly climbing onto the plain saddle. She purposely avoided his glare as she pulled her mask over her face. To his right Jun noticed both Eena Hobbins and Nor Makus already mounted on their deer. The harts whickered nervously, pawing at the ground; feeling the tension from the others. Harver Jun took a deep breath of the cool night air, and straightened on his mount.
“How do I look?” He asked, with a smile.
“Like shit.” “Regal.” “Frightening.”
Jun was too disoriented to know who said what, but he laughed anyway. “Perfect! That should thoroughly confuse them. While they’re busy staring at my face, you can do all the killing.” None of them laughed; the Ghielrout. I have to try this again sometime. He urged Sana to take the lead. She moved her hart into position and glanced back at the others. Morendo was directly overhead, another eight hours of night at least. That seemed like enough time, but June knew better than to waste time. Sana caught his eye, then kicked her hart into action. It took off through the woods, followed quickly by Eena and Nor. Harver Jun glanced up to the moon one last time then he bent down to avoid branches as his hart leapt and bound swiftly through the Queenwood.
This was it, the night they had waited for.
This was the night that they took Harvesthome back, or all died in the attempt.
“A sentry.” Gather Yon Yelso was lying belly down in the grass at the top of the bluff just west of the Queenwood. The vantage point was ideal for spying down into Harvesthome, since the last light of Forte still granted vision across the fields. “Six men, but no dogs.” He glanced over his shoulder to Sana who stood tall behind him, not trying to hide her presence in the least. His smile disappeared, clearly uneasy at her confidence. At this distance it was unlikely they would see her, and soon enough it wouldn’t really matter. “Don’t you think we should…” Yon Yelso started, but his suggested petered out when she glared at him through the holes in her mask.
There had been no word from Jore Horpe, but the night was still young. The arriving Woodsmen, who had adopted their name with mocking irony and personal enjoyment, were preparing for battle just inside the shade of the tree line. Jun and Corin stood shoulder to shoulder, except Corin’s shoulder was a good foot taller than Jun’s. Corin Mohanas, the warrior of the Woodsmen; a title he accepted with open arms, was a beast of a man. He had arms thicker than most girls’ thighs, and hands that could palm an adult’s skull; as Jun had seen a lot in past few years. He was an impatient and violent man, but killing was his passion. He was just the man for a night like tonight, and also the chink in the armor should things not go their way. He stood with his arms crossed, his massive stone axe strapped to his back.
There was no ‘leader’ among the Woodsmen, but Corin had proven himself in strength and loyalty. When Jun had proposed the idea they were executing tonight, it was Corin Mohanas who had been his biggest ally. The only thing it cost Jun was the head of the Prime Justice: Mathius Betheloo. According to rumor, the Betheloo family had a long line of Justices in their blood; some of which were said to be traced back to the Southern cities. Jun had known Mathius’ father Makor back when he had been a Justice. Hal and Jun had been recruited and trained by Makor, who had been charged as Prime Justice at the time. He was a kindly man, but was prone to bouts of rage and bravado when intoxicated. A deadly combination. Everyone in Harvesthome knew of the night he had stumbled out of the Bounty, only to be murdered by a Woodsmen raid in the fields.
What they didn’t know is that Prime Justice Makor had been skewered by Corin’s stag, Indignation. And they didn’t know that Haver Jun was there when the beast of a stag smashed Makor to a pulp. Corin had scalped Makor and had one of his women sew the long pelt of white hair to his cape; the very same cape that Justices wore in the long winter months. His hatred toward Mathius was a mystery to Jun, but it seemed strong enough to unite the Woodsmen to a single cause. The price was minimal, Jun had to admit. After all he had no personal grudge against Mathius; it was the order of Justices that had to be eradicated. Mathius was just the figure-head.
Every Justice was its own snake; each one as dangerous as the last.
The six down in the valley below would be dead soon enough, but yet again that is what brought up the current dilemma.
“Let’s run them through, Indignation is as good as any six Justices. He’ll be on them before they have a chance to piss themselves.” The massive man growled, his raspy voice stunk of ale.
“I agree. Whatever we decide to do needs to be executed quickly, Corna will rise soon and our element of surprise will evaporate with it.” Sana added, a thin skinning knife rest on her hip; a collapsible slingshot was attached to her off hand. “The sooner we attack the more morale we will have charging the Hall—”
“No.” Jun’s voice was dry from not speaking, and though his thoughts were clearer the Ghielrout was still coursing through his veins. The others turned to look at him, and he just shrugged. “No. Who else?” The others seemed shocked, but Yon Yelso raised his hand. Jun forgot just how young Yelso had been.
“We could eliminate them from a distance?” His voice was hushed, as if the opponents were on the other side of the bluff. “Slings and slingshots would work.”
“Bah! Slingshots only kill at close range. And if I’m getting close I’ll choose to use my axe!” Corin pounded his chest like a barbarian, the thump was solid. He was solid. Sana smiled at him, nodding her agreement. They were like children before a festival. “If we charge them, they won’t make it ten paces before my Woodsmen rip their heads off.”
“But their voices will.” Nor Makus made a diminutive figure, even astride her hart. She was playing the role of timid great-mother, but the others still respected her. “If they shout an alarm, it may be enough to let them prepare, enough to drive our forces back. Remember, most of us are Gatherer’s first and fighters second.” The words had wisdom, but they read sourly on the others’ faces. Corin snorted and spat, Sana’s smile vanished but she seemed to be thinking. She knew the importance of perspective, something Jun noticed even through the Ghielrout. Then again, the Ghielrout was making him notice a lot of things. “Everyone is itching to battle, but if we charge now than the secrecy granted to us by the darkness is as good as two blessings to a dead man.”
“Then we trick them.” Sana said, half to herself.
“Yes.” Everyone glance to Jun. His eyes found Corin’s and he shrugged. “Honor’s dead anyway.”
This received a chuckle from the others, but it subsided quickly. This was not a night for honorable combat, and Nor was right. The Justices may win if it came to blows. This victory needed to be quick and decisive. They needed to trap and trick and murder. Ideas were brought up, plans fleshed out, and in the end Nor Makus ended up being the mastermind behind it all. Harver Jun smiled as Nor Makus, still astride her hart, made her way down the hill to the forest; skirting the long way around as to avoid detection. She was the mother of her people, and like a mother beast she would fight to protect her young.
This could actually work.
“Jun, wait.” Sana’s hart pulled up next to his as they skirted into position. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you…” Her hesitation made him uneasy. He brushed the thought aside, but it moved like mud under a broom and only spread. He found himself wondering what it would be like to hold her, then spat off the side of his mount. The Ghielrout, that was it. He couldn’t think straight. “You were a Justice once…”
“What of it?” He snapped at her, aware of how it made her jump.
“Well, that knowledge may be important. What will they do in a situation like this? Do they have an emergency plan? Is there a hidden militia? Do they have...Shooters?” Her voice betrayed fear, but Jun didn’t blame her. She wore a mask to hide her identity from those she would kill tonight, was that so different from hiding behind a device that could kill four men in two heartbeats? He just smiled at her and kicked his hart into a leap.
Of course none of the Justices had shooters. They were expensive, not to mention rare and dishonorable. If the Justices had shooters, the entire village of Harvesthome would have known by now. That seedy bit of gossip wasn’t something that would go missed. Besides, the greatest advantage that the Woodsmen had was the lack of honor. And if Jun had a shooter he would use it in a heartbeat. Aside from shooters, the truth was Jun didn’t know. He was still a novice when they were ambushed by the Woodsmen seven years ago. The Prime Justice wasn’t particularly open with his emergency procedures, or his ‘secret weapons.’ To speculate was to give way to fear, so he wasn’t going to humor Sana.
When they reached the forest, Jun was immediately surrounded by Woodsmen. More than he had anticipated, possibly more than there were Justices. As he trotted through the trees he tried to count, he got to forty-five before Sana was at his elbow again; giving him the report. Seven dozen armed men, most of them Gatherers. He thought back to his days as a Justice and remembered the stress the recruiters had always been under. They had struggled to maintain a hundred trained Justices, and that seemed to be so many years ago.
Since then the Woodsmen had killed at least two dozen, probably more. And Jun had been the cause of death for five of them, Hal not included.
Hal. Jun had it easy. He no longer knew anyone he couldn’t bear to kill. And while the death of his friends would be difficult, he didn’t have any family left to die. Sana had her brother, Everet, but he was safely back at the Crux. Hal had to wonder if she had purposely spared him the violence. He was after all an invalid, bound by attacks of coughing and difficulty breathing. Though he was thoughtful and educated in mathematics, his attitude tended toward cowardice. Jun was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with complaints at every turn. The Woodsmen would fight, they would follow him and Corin and Nor. They would kill.
They would win.
Silence took hold of the makeshift cluster, it was time for the first step. Nor Makus insisted on being selected, and moved herself to the front of the group. No one spoke against her, so she was the first. Ellis Tuln was next to volunteer, and her skill with a knife was well known. She made a very plausible choice, small of stature and lithe as a meggun. The last volunteer however, received a wave of hushed murmurs. Ronea Hobbin stepped up, and her two sisters wailed. The sounds startled most of the Woodsmen, and many held their breath; glancing down into the valley. When the Justices made no sign of hearing, the two Hobbin girls were scolded and Ronea was given a knife by Ellis. Ronea would play the part well, because in truth she wasn’t a fighter. Jun was about to object, but the darkness of her eyes made him hold off. Together the three women would succeed. They stood still in the dark, the Woodsmen uttering a quick prayer of guidance and as they turned to leave the forest. Jun heard the two Hobbin sisters utter a pray of sending.
A prayer meant for a soul that was bound to die.
A final goodbye.
The Woodsmen gathered at the edge of the woods and watched as the three women ran down into the valley. They were half way to the Justices before they even seemed to notice. When the six figures took up defensive stances, Jun could hear Ronea cry out for help. But the cry was faint, and would fall on deaf ears. The Justices didn’t budge at first, obviously frightened at the change in their nightly routine. But the girls got closer and closer, and when they reached the Justices the relief was palpable through the Woodsmen.
The Justices were taking the girls in.
That’s when Jun noticed the flaw. Three Justices were heading back to Harvesthome, that meant one Justice for each girl. Jun hoped that Ronea was prepared to kill a man, this would be her darkest moment. The real problem was how cautiously the other three started in the direction of the woods. They weren’t charging in recklessly like naive heroes; they didn’t race each other to save the supposed damsel in distress. Instead they approached cautiously. One Justice for each girl, and the odds would only get worse the closer to Harvesthome they got. The other Woodsmen could feel the tension, they knew something wasn’t right. This wasn’t going according to plan. So the plan had to be adjusted.
Jun spurned his hart into action and it burst from the Queenwood. The light around him was purple; the tall grass blew like blades of water in the wind. He streaked forward in large bounds, and for just an instant everything seemed to freeze. The Justices froze in fear, the Woodsmen froze in confusion, even the girls froze off in the distance. Then in the turn of a second everything changed at once.
The massive deer slammed into the middle Justice, its antlers made a sicken chorus of pops as they punched through his flesh. The man on his right fell back on his ass, the one of his left thrust his staff but got it caught in hart’s rack. Jun pulled the reins on his hart, and the massive deer bucked his head to the left; throwing the tangled guard off his feet. Jun slid off his mount and landed on top of the skewered Justice, who feebly raised his hands to cover his face.
It was the battle of the incompetents, and what would have taken Jun half a second to finish cost him valuable time. Jun watched in the corner of his eye as the other Justice rose stunned to his feet. He fumbled with his knife in his off hand, before the blade found the wounded Justice’s neck and transformed his stifled moaning into bloody sputtering. There was another sickening crunch as a massive stag slammed the other Justice off his feet. Jun looked up to see Corin with his Axe hefted in one hand above his head. Indignation charged the tumbling man down, and pinned him with two swift stamps. The crunch of bone and thump of hoof sounded loudly, but it all had happened to quick for any alarm to be raised.
Jun turned to the last Justice, and saw that he lay in the tall grass with Sana Lanson standing on his neck. Her slingshot launched at pointblank and cracked his skull with a thwack. When Jun glanced in the distance he saw Nor Makus and Ellis Tuln bounding toward him, all pretense of helplessness gone. Ronea stood off in the distance, her hands dark with blood. She stood like a statue staring down at the dead Justice. Not everyone is going to make it out of this alive. But they had done it, their first task complete.
Just like that the first six Justices were dead.
Everyone turned on Jun at once.
“What the Fuck were you thinking?!”
“This is treachery! Stealing off to take the first kill!”
“You could have been killed.” The complaints came at him quick, but he brushed them all off. There wasn’t time to debate, they had more work to do; and the possibility that their cover had been blown was quickly growing.
“Enough.” Jun growled, his mouth stinging in pain as his stitches pulled taught.
“Everyone, mount up and split into groupings!” Nor Makus was standing tall now, her black and white peppered hair flowing about her head like a spirit. “Corin, with me. Yon Yelso, you know what to do with the stables. Ro Jin, take the runners to the kennel and get that fire started fast! Sana, find Eena and Mona and go with Jun. Get to the Bounty quickly, when the Harvesters awaken we need to be the first ones there!” The groups moved in loose formations, before taking off into the night. Jun saddled his hart and charged over to where Sana stood. For a moment there was chaos, Woodsmen and deer moved in every direction, some moving in small forces; others took off in groups of twos and fours.
It took a while to form rank, but as the harts charged on Jun found himself surrounded by Sana, Eena, Mona, and four other Gatherers he hadn’t time to identify. The harts leapt through the tall grass, the sound of their hooves striking the ground sent fire through Jun’s veins. They were doing it; they were an army of death. This wasn’t another raid for Autumn-grass, this was Justice! And despite what Sana had said earlier, this was revenge. The deer bound through the tall grass, the cadence of hooves were like battle drums. Jun’s heart hammered in his ears. She matched speed with Jun and they took off ahead together, she still wore her white mask only now it was splattered with blood.
Her long single braid trailed behind her, glowing violently in Morendo’s rays. They charged past Joleb’s run down mill, past the market square, and down to the well that resided in the center of town. Most of the lights were out, the Harvesters still sleeping in this early of an hour. Only the Bounty seemed to be alive. Its once vibrant celebrations were filled with the din of the worn down working force. Harvesters preparing to work in the early Corna daylight may have been awake for an hour by now. Jun and the others dismounted their harts and stormed into the bounty. The screeching hinges and the bang of the swinging doors froze men mid meal. For some, it was early enough to drink.
They stared at Jun like a twice-dead man, both by appearance and reputation. There was a long frozen pause, Jun searched for the words but found that in the moment he didn’t know where to start. The Justices are imprisoning bastards? We’re all slaves to the Southern cities? The Gatherers that disappeared aren’t really dead? Everything he thought to say sounded so feeble in his mind. For a second his resolution faltered. Two men at the far end of the bar stood, staring him in half-drunken confusion. Jun immediately recognized them as Justices.
Sana tensed.
Eena gasped.
Mona took two steps back.
And then Jun spoke.
“I am Harver Jun.” The words rang out, no one responded; Deon stared at him from behind the bar. This was it. “I gave my life to protect this town and when I died, you all mourned my passing.” The Ghielrout pumped through his veins, making his words stream out before he could think on them. The Justices didn’t make a move to intercept, they just watched with drinks in hand. “You have been taught to think that those who disappeared were lost and gone forever. You mourned the death of husbands, wives, sons and daughters. You struggled to move on with your bitter lives, struggled to make ends meet.” He gazed into the eyes of the Harvesters closest to him. He didn’t recognize a single face, he wondered if they recognized him. “You worked all year, only to give your crop away to people who shit on your labor! They give you trinkets for your livelihood, they trade insults for blood, sweat, and tears. So you work harder to yield more crops, struggling to maintain a life for your family. And the next year you get even less in return. We are left with nothing but our ale to keep us warm, since Solstice has taken everything else from us. We are being bled dry, drained by the greed of others. So go on. Drink.
“Drink before the Cornath day. Drink after you toil in the sun. Drink before you lay down to sleep, and drink again the next day so you can manage to get through your miserable life.” People were confused. Were they being insulted? “We have been complacent, our passions rotting in the sun. There was once a time when laughter filled this valley! When a man could work hard in the field and reap the fruit of his labor. Yet we are warned that the Blood Harvest was a lesson, to work hard and be diligent; to be honest and pure and you will not be punished for your good behavior.
“Punished. For what?! For wanting our families to be fed? For suffering the oppression of Solstice? What have we done to deserve punishment?! This land is our right, it was raw when we arrived, and we tamed it. We grew the Autumn-grass, felt its blades cut our skin, and toiled under Corna and Tarna for generations. We broke our backs, burnt our limbs, cracked our hands, and we never slept! We turned this wilderness into a bounty of food and trade and wealth. We raised our families with the values of the Creator, taught our children right from wrong; kept them from harm. We fought to make Harvesthome a utopia.
“And what have we yielded?
“Blood.
“Regret.
“Bitterness.
“Fear.”
The silence was palpable, the Harvesters didn’t seem to know what to make of the newcomer. Hal’s words rang in his mind; It’s too late for that, Jun. Had he lost his mind? What was he trying to accomplish? The waves of despair threatened to crash down on him. He had to do something, but he was winded; he didn’t know what to say. The Ghielrout, that had to be it. Part of Jun didn’t believe it for a second.
“I am Sana Lanson.” Sana pulled the mask off her face, and near everyone recoiled. Sana had been dead for years, but she still looked the same. That’s when Jun realized why Sana had braided her hair. It was how she had always worn it as a child, pulled back tight into a single braid down her back. She meant something to them, for twelve seasons she was Prime Gatherer’s apprentice. They knew her, when she had ‘died’ they had lost an important member of society. No one recognized Jun, they had all forgotten. “I was taken in the by the Woodsmen. I was fed and sheltered and clothed by their kindness. You were told by the Justices that the Gatherers that disappeared in the Queenwood were murdered.”
“We were not.” Eena Hobbins stepped forward. “I am Eena Hobbins.”
“I am Mona Hobbins. Ronea lives as well!”
“I am Gather Lee, this is my brother Gather Ulgin.”
Everything seemed to click. “We were all a part of your life once.” Sana continued, her voice seemed to crack. “We were a part of your families. We all lived in Harvesthome, and yet you were told we were killed in the Queenwood by savages. You mourned our deaths, and prayed at our sendings.
“But you were lied to.”
The tension in the room grew palpable.
“We prospered in the Queenwood. We cultivated the land, learnt to survive, to thrive! We have found a way to live without the lies of Justices, without the oppression of Solstice.” Sana continued, stopping short to point at someone in the distance. “Tori Makus! Tori! Your mother is alive! She is here tonight, and she has come with an army!”
“An army of liberators.” Jun picked up the baton. “She has arrived with true justice on her heels, and she is not the only one! Jore Jun, Jore Horpe, Ellis Tuln, Hyatt Mejini…Everyone you thought was dead is here tonight, in the flesh. And we are seeking revenge for the lies you have suffered. We carry the banner of True Justice, and our hearts are filled with hatred to everything that poses to be us.” Harver Jun turned and pointed with his off hand, his gaze directly at the Justices in the corner of the bar. “We have come to free you from your punishers. We have come to release you from the tyranny of blackmail that Solstice has forced upon you.
“And we have returned to restore the honor of the people of Harvesthome.
“We’ve returned to start a revolution.”
All eyes fell on the Justices.
There was a long silence, where nothing moved.
Everyone just sat still and waited in silence.
Then a faintly familiar voice called out:
“Well, what the Fuck are you waiting for?! Let’s rip their Fucking heads off!”
The commotion that followed turned the Bounty into a flurry of dust, crashes, and screams. The Justices never stood a chance. Mona and Eena fled, unable to bear the violence; but Sana just reached out and linked her fingers with Jun’s good hand. They stood and watched as the bitterness of the Harvesters bloomed into rage. They watched as the rage boiled into lust and shot out to the streets in the form of an angry mob. Harver Jun watched the people push past him, some stopped to give him a hug, a pat on the back, some grabbed Sana by the face a kissed her full on the lips. Jun laughed despite his face splitting open, and in the confusion of the moment he realized what he had done.
He had given the people of Harvesthome hope.
Innocent people would die tonight, Harver Jun knew. He would be responsible for their deaths; the weight of the world threatened to crush his shoulders. But the cost of justice couldn’t be bought without the weight of guilt. He didn’t know if he could bear the burden. In his mind’s eye he watched Hal die, the blood stained his hands.
In his mind’s eye, he watched his mother take her last breath.
But the night was still young.
And there was much to be done.