Chapter 6

Malcolm rolled out of bed quite early in the morning. He had been up fairly late the night before, trying to get work done at Alchem’s hut before his trip into Vorren. He didn’t bother looking in the mirror as he was washing his hands in his bathroom basin; he knew he looked unkempt so there wasn’t any point reminding himself how bad it was; he simple dressed and wondered into the kitchen. None of his dishes were clean and there wasn’t much food left anyway so he grabbed some bread and headed out the door. Standing on the front stoop for a moment, he realized he had no idea how to get to James’ ranch unless he went there from Alchem’s cottage. Malcolm sighed to himself and marched off to Malcom’s residence so he could then go to the take care of James’ chores.

When he reached the hut he noticed lights were on in Alchem’s room. He had no idea why Alchem would be up so early in the morning but didn’t think too much of it; Alchem was excited about the upcoming trip and probably wasn’t able to sleep. Malcolm knew he hadn’t been out of Vorren in years and was eager to get traveling. He almost headed inside before remembering he had to go take care of horses first. This wasn’t such a big deal to Malcolm as he had plenty of experience taking care of various breeds, but there were a lot of things he had to finish before they started their journey and taking care of James’ chores was going to be time consuming. Regardless, Malcolm felt he owed it to James, especially considering the position he was soon to place him in, so he head off to the ranch.

Malcolm started pushing through branches and brush as he left the main trail to take a shortcut to the fields. He didn’t realize how overgrown the old path through the forest had become. He wished he’d brought a machete. Eventually with a swing of his arm he fell out from the bush and landed in the field in front of him. Malcolm smashed his fist onto the green grass underneath him, spitting leaves out from his mouth. He was too old for this kind of nonsense. With another exaggerated sigh meant only for himself he pushed himself to his knees at which point he realized there was a large and old hand in his face extended to help him up. With raised eyebrows Malcolm looked up to the giant standing in front of him.

Perhaps not literally a giant, but about seven feet tall, the old man with a long flowing dark beard smiled gently at Malcolm. He was wearing a giant green robe, similar to Alchem’s. He had a few silver rings on his fingers. Malcolm figured they must be made especially for him considering how large they were. He recognized some of the symbols on the rings from Alchem’s older drawings; they had some sort of magical origin. Hesitantly Malcolm took the man’s hand and was pulled quickly to his feet.  “I already took care of the horses.” He smiled as he wondered behind Malcolm into the woods. Malcolm looked out towards the horses running ahead of him behind the fence. They were all groomed and looked satisfied as they had presumably been fed as well. Malcolm was confused. He turned to ask the man how he knew James. Behind him there was nothing but the same brush he had come through moments before. Malcolm was left there to stare confused into the empty forest.

From the lower balcony of the eastern bridge, John watched the citizen’s charge through the streets below. Order must be restored. The bridge was raised but they could still easily clash on any of the western crossings. He grabbed the officer on standing next to him. “Grab every idle man you can find and have every functioning western bridge raised. Do not let the citizens clash over this.” The officer jumped down the stairs without question. John headed down behind him but was much slower due to his damaged knee. By the time he reached street level he could see the crew was struggling to unload the ship. He ran aboard ready to direct where necessary or unnecessary. On board, the captain stood on the dock screaming at his men as they struggled with the massive canons.  “Captain! I’m here to assist.” Yelled John, of course, by assist he meant command.

“Great, if you happen to find a crew that isn’t completely incompetent!” yelled the old and withered captain “let me know!” The captain turned around and watched his men struggle to bring heavy equipment up from the lower deck. “If I had any other crew available I’d throw you all in the ocean and bring them on board!” He screamed as loud as his voice allowed. Suddenly, a flaming arrow soared through the sky and struck John on the shoulder.  His uniform was fairly well padded and the shot didn’t pierce his skin. John bent over and picked up the arrow. There was no tip but rather a flaming bundle of fabric on the end. Realizing the attackers weren’t focused on the crew he turned his attention back to the captain.

“Are there any explosive powders still on board?” The captain smiled.

“They’re being unloaded now!” he replied confidently.

“Well don’t; they’re trying to burn the ship. Let’s not give them the opportunity.” The captain’s smile faded as he caught up with John’s thought process. There weren’t any accelerants on the ship but the crowds on the northern bank were trying to get near enough to douse it in fuel. The river was barely wide enough to accommodate the large vessel and lighting the ship from either shore would be no problem for the resistant immigrants. “Have your men dump the powders starboard. Unload everything else as quickly as you can.”

“But, sir…”

“NOW.” The captain wasn’t sure whether or not John realized how valuable the explosive powders were, but he didn’t argue. Down into the haul he went to convey the message to his crew. John grabbed hold of a stray cannon and began pushing it by himself to the unloading ramp. The other men on the ship paused for a second, amazed by his tenacity, before continuing their desperate plight.

Meanwhile James and Bart reached the next crossable bridge across the river. Over the bridge they could see a crowd of Shiden immigrants carrying fuel in buckets as they made their way to the northern bank. Two lines of men formed on either side of the bridge. None carried particularly deadly weapons, but neither side would step off of the bridge. From off in the distance a whirring sound followed a single flaming arrow which planted itself subtly on the bridge with a quiet thud. As if a captain commanded the charge both sides began their assault. Bart and James yelled defiantly with the crowd as they collided with the opposing mob. Shortly men began punching and throwing each other from the bridge in an attempt to prevent the other side from reaching their target.

James threw both his arms up in front of him and began pushing through the crowd. He felt a hard knock on his head before he finally looked up and realized he was face to face with a Shidenite who threw another quick punch towards him. An impulsive duck and an uppercut from James put the man straight on the floor of the bridge. James hadn’t ever really punched anyone like that before; his hand ached from the knock on the man’s skull. He looked towards Bart to gauge his reaction but Bart was preoccupied, easily lifting a smaller opponent over his head and dropping him into the river. Turning his attention away from the attackers was a mistake as James took another hard hit, this time to his left leg from a blunt object. Falling to his knees James realized not all the men were unarmed. His leg wasn’t bleeding or broken but certainly bruised. It was going to be difficult to walk on the next day. He reached his arm between the legs in front of him and grabbed the man’s ankles, throwing him to his back as he rose to his feet. A quick few kicks to the ribs assured he wouldn’t get back up, James left him there coughing on his side, holding his stomach.

Men had formed a semi-circle around Bart who wasn’t backing down from any man that wandered too close. People were genuinely afraid to get to near him as a stray swing of his weapon could take off a head. Bart had picked up some kind of board and was wielding it tightly in his bleeding fists. From the back of the crowd a rock came flying towards him and whizzed just past his head before stopping another charging sailor with a muffled thump in his stomach. Bart turned to the man and then back to the crowd with a face that made his intent obvious. He threw his board down onto the bridge and began walking speedily towards the mob. Men began backing into each other before finally beginning to retreat off the bridge and back onto the street followed closely by a charge of mainland citizens. Bart managed to grab the shirt of one man to pulling him back and smashing his jaw with his free hand. He very unceremoniously dropped the man and continued moving towards a new target, leaving him spitted globs of blood onto the wooden surface below him.

James heard people in the back of their group screaming about the ship. As he ran forward he gazed to his right and noticed some fires beginning to erupt near the shore. James ran ahead quickly and passed the massing crowd. He took a hard right down the small road adjacent to the river and ran straight for the boat, where men were throwing oils onto the walls and lighting fires. Everyone behind him soon followed, some breaking off and heading to the shore with him while others continued to push back the opposition. To the right of the road there was a stone wall that dropped into the river. Ahead of them lay stairs that led down to a narrow shore near to the cargo ship. James jumped down the stairs and rolled onto the sandy beach. He jutted forward and tackled a man attempting to throw buckets of fuel onto the wooden bow. As the man made it to his feet he and the others with him saw the massive group charging down the stairway they retreated under the moving bridge and out towards the bay. The men had left a few buckets which were promptly picked up and filled with water from the river in an attempt to put out the flames.

At this point the side of the ship was significantly damaged and still burning. Men began removing their shirts and soaking them in the river to try and smother the flames. The smoke was burning their eyes, causing men to fall back onto the beach coughing and choking. Shortly after, the boat began tilting towards the northern shore as the flames near the bottom of the ship sizzled into the water. On board the ship John struggle to stay and his feet while keeping his composure. His eyes widened as he turned to the crew. A canon began rolling backwards and eventually collided with the end of the dock beginning a loud symphony of cracking wood. The crew began dropping what they were carrying and sprinted towards the ramp in a panic. John was dismayed at the chaos and simply stood where he was shouting for men to continue to unload the weaponry.

Bart could hear series of deep thuds coming from within the ship. Barrels began dumping out of the hull and either bobbing in the river or thumping onto the sand. He realized James was in the crowd ahead of him still attempting to extinguish the flames, to no avail. Fire was pouring off of the ship as chunks of wood broke free and collided with the bank. One canon managed to break through the wood on deck before crashing loudly and sinking straight into the river. Bart had little knowledge of canonry but was aware enough to realize that the barrels floating in the river may contain something explosive. He ran to James and started dragging him away from the fight, yelling for the others to follow, as James swung his arms around wildly unknowingly being drug along the beach by his ally. As he squinted and rubbed the smoke from his eyes he regained his sight long enough to see a large explosion culminate from one of the burning barrels. Men who were near the river were thrown onto their backs, attempting to shield themselves from the barrage of splintered wood that followed.

The shock aboard the ship was enough to send John to one knee, specifically his bad knee. He grunt and ground his teeth before pushing himself up with his fist and watching the men now frenzy to get off board. He finally abandoned his position and limped slowly off of the ramp and back onto the opposite shore. He was the last man to leave he vessel before it tipped over onto one side as the masts crashed onto the street and into a building north of the river. When the explosion finally halted, men on the beach began climbing back to their feet. They searched for friends and began wrapping each other’s open wounds with whatever cloths they could find. James could see at least two bodies floating in the river, presumably dead. Another fighter had been thrown into the stone retaining well and cracked his skull, killing him instantly.

James was panting and coughing as he waited for the ringing in his ears to die down. He could feel a warm stream of blood drip down his forehead. Flaming chunks of ship were scattered across the sand, smoldering in the salty breeze. He turned to Bart who was sitting with his arms resting on his knees on the shore, watching as men scattered through the area, trying to escape the carnage of the wrecked ship. Bart was bleeding down one arm but didn’t seem too bothered by it, despite the sizable pool of blood that had collected around his feet. When James’ hearing returned nothing but the sounds of screaming and cries of pain met his ears. He turned to his friend Bart, who had an annoyed look on his face. “I think I lost a tooth.” He mumbled as he rubbed his jaw. James was shocked by the calm tone of his friend. He had never seen this side of Bart, the gentle giant fought so ferociously; in fact, he had never seen Bart fight at all.

“Sorry man.” Replied James, not sure what to say. Bart hesitated for a moment and shrugged his shoulders.

“I guess I got more anyway.”