Read The Free Trader of Warren Deep (Free Trader Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Craig Martelle
The fire burned down during the night. There was no more wood and sod to burn, so they ate a cold breakfast.
Between bites, Braden shaped a plan for them to discuss. “We can continue heading south through the prairie until we get back into a more wooded area. The horses are well fed on the prairie grasses and should be up for a nice walk, plus we need to hunt and we need water. Our supply of venison is going fast. Skirill? How are you feeling this morning?”
The Hawkoid flexed his wing, stiffly and slowly at first, then a little more vigorously, ending with what Braden thought was a wince. “Good, ‘ut can’t ‘ly this daylight.” Braden opened a pouch with the numbweed and applied the last of it to Skirill’s wing. If his leg or body took longer to heal, that was fine. The Hawkoid needed his wings to fly.
“I’m not sure we can make it to the woods this turn, but I know we won’t if we don’t get started. Which horse do you think you can best ride?”
Skirill didn’t want to balance himself with his wings as that would prevent his wing from healing and maybe even set him back further. He settled for riding behind Braden with the human’s braid held tightly in his beak. His claws dug into the saddle as he stood a full head taller than the human. Braden held one arm back, helping the Hawkoid balance. G-War opened their mindlink just to share his ‘cat chuckling.
“Don’t make me come back there and pet the good kitty!” Braden’s juvenile threat did nothing to dampen the ‘cat’s mirth. He could feel a rumble behind him as the Hawkoid’s massive chest heaved in laughter. Braden really was outnumbered.
He didn’t care that they looked a strange lot. He was happy that they covered a lot of ground on that turn. When they came to a thin creek, barely more than a trickle of water, they drank their fill then refilled the skins they had.
They pushed forward into the early evening until they reached trees sprinkled outward from the woods. It was a perfect camp for their group. A little cover, woods close by for hunting, and the open plain where Skirill could freely fly.
“I can ‘ly in the woods, you know. When ‘y wing is ‘etter.”
“Of course you can,” Braden conceded. He stroked the Hawkoid’s feathers absently as he looked around where they might camp. No Crawlers. No signs of animals. “What do you think, G?”
‘Hungry,’
the ‘cat replied.
“Would you look at that! Smoked venison right where we can get it at,” Braden replied sarcastically. “Unless, you might know where we can find something a little more fresh?”
The ‘cat unfocused his eyes then shook his head.
‘No. Not tonight.’
“Sorry Skirill. Maybe tomorrow.” He broke out the venison for the other two as he set up the camp. He hobbled the horses so they could graze. He gathered a small supply of firewood and prepared to light a fire.
‘No fire. Not tonight.’
Braden trusted the ‘cat implicitly. The ‘cat knew there was a threat out there somewhere. If the cost of being safe was sleeping without a fire, then the price was easily paid. They would look at things again with the sunrise. He was sure it would be better after a good night’s sleep.
It wasn’t. It wasn’t a good night’s sleep at all. And things didn’t look better.
G-War tapped him awake when it was still quite dark.
‘Get ready. They come,’
the ‘cat said directly into Braden’s mind.
“Ready for what, for who,” Braden whispered while trying to shake off the fog of sleep. He pulled on his long knife, put on his quiver, and readied his Rico Bow. It was dark, the moon either hadn’t risen yet or had already set. Braden didn’t know how long he’d been asleep. His brain wasn’t fully engaged yet.
He was surprised at how hard it was to wake Skirill. A simple shaking wasn’t enough. Braden grew more vigorous as the moments passed, until the Hawkoid awoke with a start and drove his beak into Braden’s leather jacket. The human fell down with a crunch and loud “ow.”
The ‘cat’s loud exasperation penetrated both their psyches.
‘They come for the horses. This way.’
G-War bounded off past the horses, expecting the others to follow him. Braden ran to get in between the horses and whatever ‘they’ were. Skirill hopped, rather awkwardly, then broke into a run, shooting past Braden. To better protect the horses, Braden grabbed them and pulled them back toward the tree under which they camped. They were hobbled, so it was tough getting them to move.
As he was tying them off, he heard the scream of a Hillcat as it attacked something. The Hawkoid’s screech followed. His friends had joined the battle. A deep snorting rumbled through the grass. An image from G-War flashed in his mind. Braden finally knew what was coming.
A wild boar rushed at him out of the dark, the dirty tusks the brightest feature of the pig’s head. Braden jumped straight up and as the boar passed beneath him, he drove his knife downward, into the back behind the shoulder blade. His knife was wrenched from his hand.
He tripped as he landed and rolled, bringing his Rico Bow in front of him. The next boar took an arrow through its eye. The third turned to avoid the human, presenting a perfect side shot from just a couple strides away. The shaft disappeared into the beast. The boar furrowed into the ground as it died while it was still running.
Another Hawkoid screech, but this time from in the air. He glanced up as Skirill made a tight wheel turn directly overhead and dove toward a target that Braden couldn’t see. Braden let the bow sling across his back as he leapt two steps and pulled his knife from the dead boar’s back.
Another boar rushed past. It had a Hillcat clinging to it. The ‘cat was trying to get a claw into the boar’s throat. He knew that boar would die and turned back just in time to avoid another beast’s charge. He danced a quick side step to dodge the boar’s tusk. He struck with his knife, but only raked a slash along its ribs. It snorted and screamed in pain, but continued charging toward the horses. Max whinnied and reared, driving its front hooves into the boar’s head. The beast staggered away, stunned and bleeding.
Yet another boar ran at him from the darkness. Skirill dove in from nowhere, landing on the boar and pulling it a few strides from the ground. The flesh ripped out of its back as it fell from the Hawkoid’s claws. It fell with a thump and tried to get to its hooves, but Braden was there, stabbing his knife into its side. He pulled it out, ready for the next beast to attack.
But there were no more.
Skirill dropped out of the darkness and back winged to drop lightly to the ground. His chest heaved from his exertions, the wound on his wing trickled fresh blood. Braden took a deep breath and slid his long knife back into his belt.
They were out of numbweed, so Braden pressed his fingers against the Hawkoid’s wound to stop it from bleeding. He looked around for G-War, seeing him at the extreme range of his night eyes, maybe five strides away, sitting calmly next to the tree where the horses were tied, casually licking the blood from his paws.
Once the bleeding stopped, Braden rubbed some of his own saliva onto the wound. It helped him when he was hurt. Maybe it would help the Hawkoid. Skirill cocked his head as he watched Braden work.
As he finished, Skirill head butted him and said, “You ‘ought well, human ‘riend.”
“You fought well, too, my Hawkoid friend.” Braden hesitated for a heartbeat. “My friend.” He put his hand on Skirill’s shoulder.
“Hey! You okay, G?”
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
Braden didn’t have an answer to that. He would always ask, just in case. He knew that he needed the ‘cat far more than the ‘cat needed him. When the time came, he would be there and do what he had to do for the ‘cat.
Skirill head butted Braden one more time, then moved away from the tree. He didn’t want the horses to step on his tail feathers.
“Time to make a fire! We’ve got some pork to smoke.” Braden busied himself with banking wood for the fire. He didn’t have evergreen branches to build a smoker, but he had a blanket. He needed branches to make his lattice work to hold the meat and keep the blanket out of the fire. He started to climb the tree, then had an idea.
“Skirill. Can you fly to the top of the tree and break off some branches for me?” The Hawkoid flexed his wing a few times. He hopped and ran forward then with a couple strong strokes, he was airborne. He disappeared into the darkness, then reappeared a few heartbeats later, back winging to land in the top branches. Braden heard snapping and the limbs started to fall.
He waited until Skirill called that he was done, then he gathered the wood. Peeling some strips of the soft bark, he used it to tie the thin branches together. He built his framework, then started the fire, letting it dry the lattice work with its heat. He let the fire build on itself, then went to work butchering the more choice strips of meat. When all was said and done, he probably had more than his own body weight in pork strips. He filled his field smoker about a quarter of the pile. He added some leafy branches to the fire and let that build into a heavy smoke. He wrapped it all in the blanket to keep the smoke in.
Braden took some raw slices of meat to Skirill who thanked him before tossing it down whole. Hawkoids didn’t chew. They ripped. Braden was happy not to be on the receiving end of that beak. Again anyway. If he didn’t have on his jacket earlier, he wasn’t sure how much damage the Hawkoid’s beak would have done to him. He felt his chest. He had a bruise, but it was minor. That probably equated to a Hawkoid love tap. That last head butt was harder. He’d have to talk to Skirill about the Hawkoid’s expression of affection. It hurt!
It took the rest of the night to smoke the meat. Braden saved a little for Skirill and G-War who both preferred their meat raw. They could enjoy a breakfast more to their taste.
The ‘cat and the Hawkoid slept soundly while Braden worked. He was dog tired when morning came, but their food problem had solved itself.
Although the boar pack had been small, the horses would have stood no chance alone, their soft bellies vulnerable to the boars’ tusks. If Braden had been alone, he would have climbed the tree and picked off the boars one by one using his bow. Who knows what G-War would have done by himself, maybe take over the pack, leading them to take over all of Warren Deep. Braden laughed to himself at the thought of the ‘cat riding the lead boar.
By protecting the horses, the three of them had secured their ride. They had a long way to go and walking would take all the fun out of it.
Braden shook out the blanket the best he could, but it would reek of smoke for many turns to come. He used that blanket to wrap the smoked pork.
He saddled one horse and prepared the blanket pack on the saddle of the other. With one blanket now filled with pork and the other with the rest of their goods, there was no room for the ‘cat. Could the three of them ride one horse? Probably, but it would not be comfortable.
Skirill solved this problem by saying that he could fly.
“Me and you, G. Just like old times.” When Golden Warrior of the Stone Cliffs was still a kitten, he rode in Braden’s lap in the back of the wagon. The boy and the ‘cat were inseparable, mostly because Braden had never had a friend. They were traders. They met different people every turn. He played with all the kids they ran across, but they never stayed long. Stop. Trade. Get back on the road.
He wouldn’t trade his life for anything. The town people were soft. The nomads weren’t friendly. The farmers were always digging in the ground. No, the life of a trader was what he loved. And he traveled with the creature he cared most about. Plus he was on a journey to find the biggest and best trade ever.
G-War covered the space from the ground to Braden’s lap in a single smooth leap, landing softly, yet still using his claws, just enough to let the human know his place. He settled in on Braden’s lap and Braden’s new caravan was off. He thought of the group as the caravan, no longer needing the wagon to anchor their trade.
Skirill perched on top of the tree and waited for a long time before he took to the sky. In no time at all, he overtook the horses and flew on, gliding gracefully above it all. He soon became a mere speck on the horizon.
G-War opened their mindlink and instantly, he could see through the Hawkoid’s eyes. It was disconcerting and Braden had to grab two handfuls of the horse’s mane to keep from falling. The view was incredible, the entire world laid out before him. Braden sharpened his focus and let his mind become one with the Hawkoid’s. Other Hawkoids, all larger, flew around. A nest with eggshells. Overwhelming hunger! Mother! A rabbit. Joy! Cliffs. Falling. Flying! Soaring.
Braden bounced awake with a start. They had only gone a few steps, but he had lived half a lifetime as his Hawkoid friend. He understood what the screeches and calls meant. He could recognize Skirill’s nesties and click. He had a map of Warren Deep in his mind from the viewpoint of one high above the ground. He knew which way they needed to go to get to Whitehorse because he had seen it. It was not far off. A little more than a turn on horseback, a fraction of that on the wing.
G-War settled into his lap and even started purring. Maybe the ‘cat was proud of the progress the human made with the mindlink. Once it became clear what was possible, Braden actively sought it and found it.
Braden attempted to open a link with G-War, testing his thought speech.
‘You are the best friend anyone could ever have.’
‘I know,’
the ‘cat responded in a friendly tone.
‘Ass.’