Chapter 2 Homecoming (the longhunters)

The kid wasn’t sure when he finally passed out. All he could remember was staring at the dying coals of the fire and the sound of the bounty men that were on watch periodically moving to wake the next man. When he awoke with a gasp. The old man was shaking him. “Time to get on the move,” around him the buck skinned figures were moving around preparing for the days movements. Someone handed him a metal cup of something hot and thick. Bitter as it ran across his tongue, but filling his chilled frame with warmth and a little energy. He had slept in all his clothes on a borrowed bed roll. He got up and brushed himself down. Reaching for his hat and then his fire lock. “Do you think we will get back to the village today,” the kid asked a neighbor as they finished off there own cup of bitter brew. “That’s the hope yes.” A sneer from the scared man cut into their conversation. “That’s if you don’t slow us down to a crawl with your wallowing,” he said as he tied the last of his supplies to a mule. The kid looked away as he felt his cheeks get warm. “Just try to ignore that one, he is a damn good orc and goblin killer. Just not a very pleasant person. He does have his reasons though.” The kid wanted to ask but the other bounty man stood without another word walking to another of the mules. The kid, only having his fire lock and ammo pouch he warmed him self before the fires were doused and the men spread out and began to move in the general direction of the kids village. The kid struggled again to keep up with the fluid movements of the experienced men. Their eyes picking out trails no matter how small there slipper like buckskin shoes helping them glide through the brush while the kid crashed along behind him feeling like every creature in the forest could hear them and why they didn’t just fine the road back that had been around since the second age. “Not sure that was the only band.” Came the voice of the old man, “no reason to risk it by simply walking up the road or trail.” The kid saw the sense in that. No reason not to be careful. He would be home soon enough. He thought on what he would have to say to the families of the men that didn’t get back. Could he have really been the only one lucky enough to survive the wrath of those beasts? The thought tied his stomach into a knot, and he had to blink back tears. Looking around to see if any of the rangers had noticed he began to recognize some of the woods around him. The far west end of the cattleman’s land. Then the smell of smoke hit him. Not the smell of cook fires and hearths. Something wholly different. His feet seemed to be made of stone as he walked the last few furlongs to the forest edge. The smoke was almost a fog but when he reached the edge he saw its source. The village. The only home he had ever know. It had been sacked. Ravaged. A burnt out hulk. The bodies of what men had been left there stuck up from the ground on large pikes. Other bodies looked piled under them. “Stay in the wood line boys. Keep a sharp eye.” The old man said falling in behind the kid as he walked steadily towards the smoldering village. He didn’t know where his feet were taking him. His mind was trying to deny what all of his senses told him. The he was there. His home. Of coarse it had not been spared. He was on his knees at the pike that held his father aloft, a tribute to dark heathen gods. The kid sobbed. Gulping in the smoke dry air only to sob it out. The old mans hand grasp his shoulder. “Come on kid. We need to get out of here“ the sound of bird calls from the wood line could barley be heard above the kids sobs. The old man began to bodily drag the kid away. He hadn’t seen but the signal was enough. He found a half standing building pushing the kid into it holding him down. Free hand pulling his tomahawk from his belt. It was still light out. He didn’t think that the ones that did this would be out yet. Night was their time of strength. Why would the return to what they have already picked clean. He could hear the crunch of boots on the debris. To close to risk cocking one of his belt pistols. He waited watching the door way. Willing his heartbeat to slow. The crunching slowed. Stopped. A shadow falling across the threshold of the door in the evening sun. Milling around. Muffled voices. The the sound of feet walking toward him. The old man tightened the grip on his tomahawk lowering his center of gravity. Closer the steppes came, closer to the door. The shadow of a man becoming longer. Suddenly the long barrel of a firelock. Did they use firelocks now? Could he take the chance? The figure stepped into the remains of the house. The old man surged forward gripping the firelock and pushing the barer into the corner of the ruin. Pinning him bringing the edge of the tomahawk to the mans throat. The man. clunk it was the sound of a firelock being brought to full cock. “You don’t want to do that” the old man heard from behind him. clunk the kid stood the rifle pointing at the second man. “Quite the little stand off we have here.” The old man said the razor edge of the tomahawk nearly touching the neck of the man he had pinned. “You all are the ones signing your death warrants.” The second man said “holding weapons on the lords guard.” Still no one moved. “What say you kid. You recognize anything on these men.” The kid tired to think. He had heard they had a lord that watched there land but had never seen him or any of his men. “I don’t Know. They have never come around before.” The old man grunted, no matter what they weren’t the monster urk pack that they had been skirmishes with. Slowly the old man pulled back his tomahawk from the mans throat, relief washing over his face. The second man with his gun on the old man didn’t move until a second sound of a gun lock cocking. His eyes darted to see the scared man standing with his firelock pointed at him. The old man half turned.” This would be a good time for you to put that down,” Slowly the man at arms lowered his weapon. “This was the kids village” the old man said. “We brought him back after him and a group of militia got ambushed by urk the monsters.” The kid still had his firelock trained at the chest of the man at arms. “That right kid” the man at arms croaked from a dry throat. “Yea it is. Sent word to someone that we was getting raided by them monsters. Never heard anything back. Thought we should handle things ourselves” The man at arms was silent. “There is more th-“ “We know how many of you there are, they aren’t any better off than you.” This from the scared man. Voice edged in ice. The man at arms swallowed. “We ain’t looking for a shooting war here. You all would loose an the sound might bring more of them damned beasts,” the old man spoke looking from one to another. “Take us to whichever’s of you are in charge, we want to talk about safe keeping for the boy, and any payment for scalp bounty which might be offered...for our trouble,”. The men at arms, the signs of wounded pride on them, looked at each other The oddly attired men. One still pointing his firelock. They shrugged. “You might not find any kind of answers but we will take you.” The scared man lowered his weapon. All looked at each other again. Waiting on someone to move. “By all means after you all. Just keep in mind there are keen eyes on yo all.” The old man said motioning. The men at arms stepped off. The group walked down what was at one point the main road of the town. It had been an old town. Long standing stone building and classical build white siding the remains of thatch roofs. The kid shuffled along between the two long-hunters. Arms slack. Fingers barely hanging on to the firelock. He did look around. Only straight ahead. He didn’t speak. Didn’t cry. Only one foot in front of the other. A small company on foot soldiers stood mingling about towards the crest of a hill outside the town. No wonder they had there number the old man thought. They aren’t even trying to be desecrate. Well it is their land. The leader was plane sitting on a large bay charger, probably a breed meant to carry he fire fathers into the fray covered head to toe in the armor of the old days. Though thankfully if it all went wrong the old man felt certain the striking figure on the beautiful horse would still be the first to catch a ball. They were still in East shooting distance of the wood line. “What is going on here?” The noble man said. “These men were in the village. Clams the kid lived here an they was bringing him back safe. Bunch of the villagers got themselves killed by the damned urks.” One of the man at arms was quick to speak up. He looked back at the two long hunters with a narrowed eye. “They say they killed them urks. Want to talk about a bounty for their work”. The riders eyes shifted to the two bounty men and their charge. “Do you bring any proof beyond your word that you killed them.” Without ceremony the old man undid the leather thong that held the many pieces of tough urk scalps that they had taken from their kills, and tossed it at the man. The noble must have caught it out of curiosity, because short moments after he caught it there was a scream as he let them fall to the ground. “Every man of my group collected atleast that amount or more. We had been following that group for near a month.” The Old Man continued as if not noticing the high born leader. “It would seem that you missed a great deal” the leader said gaining control of himself. “Well we cant miss what we don’t know about.” The Old Man said. “Probably won’t take us to long to find them once we start looking for them. That’s if you agree to our terms.” The noble seemed to His best to contain a sneer. “What terms would you ask for vagabond” The insult seemed to cause a smile at the old mans mouth. “Supplies. Powder. Shot. And at least one silver per proof.” The leader scoffed a little. “An entire silver?” The old man only smirked. “Those last things we killed, they were only a hoard of of some goblin kind. Nasty enough yea but,” he looked over his shoulder and spat into the dirt, “Whatever did this is something different than them. A silver should cover the increased risk.