Tarnished Chapter 38 (Patreon)

The group, minus Travis, made for the Town hall. John thought Pappy’s convoluted plan was a waste of time. Once more people pushed west and the Fareen government made their presence known, a few words on a piece of paper weren’t going to stop them from taking what they wanted. But if this is what the old man wanted, so be it. It was easier to give him than money, which the town had practically none of.

John stood back with his arms crossed as the Sheriff prepared the documentation. Then he and Pappy signed it. When they offered the quill to him, he quirked an eyebrow.

Wyatt sighed. “As a representative of the town’s founder, it is your responsibility to notarize this agreement.”

John pushed himself off the wall and grabbed the writing implement. He hastily scrawled his name on the paper before tossing the quill to the side. “Are we done? I have more important things to be doing right now.”

“I’m happy,” Pappy said with a smirk. “Pleasure doing business with you folks. And good luck with your… troubles.”

“You aren’t going to help?” Wyatt asked in annoyance.

“This isn’t mine or my family's fight.”

The old man tipped his hat and disappeared out the door. John went to follow him, but Blackwood grabbed his arm and shook his head. “He’s not worth the trouble.”

“Fine,” John stated irritably as he pulled his arm out of Wyatt’s grasp. He wasn’t going to confront the man anyway. He had planned to follow him to find out how he got past the Harc’otti sentries. But the Sheriff was right. There were more urgent concerns at the moment. Even if taking out the leaders of the Harc’otti could help, it did little good if the next attack occurred while he was trailing Pappy.

“How are the fortifications coming?” he asked instead.

“From what I saw, not great. We have a few streets blocked off but there simply isn’t enough wood to close off every approach. I’ve done my best to redistribute the scouts to keep an eye on these approaches.”

John was afraid of that. Two days wasn’t nearly enough to prepare for this attack. If it wasn’t for Travis and Seline finishing up that cannon, the west side of town would have been abandoned by now. Honestly, they should consider doing it anyway.

“It might be time to start evacuating the west side of Ember Creek of all non-combatants.”

“That’s gonna cause a panic,” Blackwood replied as he rubbed at his beard. “But I suppose it's better to do it now than when we are under attack. I’ll get someone to go door to door. What do you think the Harc’otti are waiting for?”

That was a question John didn’t have an answer for. “Nothing good.”

The evacuation went about as well as could be expected. Some people refused to abandon their belongings, trying to pack stuff on wagons. Others simply refused to leave because everything they owned was in their house.

“You best be prepared to defend it!” John told one irate man. The man stormed into his house before coming back out a few minutes later with a double barrel.

The look in the man’s eye told John he was fully prepared to use the weapon to defend what was his. John was surprised to see another firearm but he smiled and nodded to the man, then he moved on to the next house. He didn’t have time to argue with people. There were simply too many houses to have one or two people knock on every door so John had volunteered to assist.

He didn’t have anything else to do. His ammo was all loaded, his guns were cleaned and ready, and he had retrieved his supplies, moving them just across the bridge for when they retreated.

With Blackwood's declaration to move all non-combatants across the river, all attempts to fortify the west side of town were abandoned. The people building barricades now focused on the bridges. It was much simpler to fortify them instead of a dozen or more roads and alleys that led into the town.

The banks of Ember Creek weren’t very steep, and the water was not very deep, but it was quite wide. It would slow anything trying to cross the natural barrier considerably, leaving no cover for any Harc’otti dumb enough to try crossing.

The water was also bitterly cold, coming from the melting ice of the western mountains. So spending any time inside the frigid water might kill you faster than a bullet wound.

He soon finished his door-to-door checks and made his way to the roof of one of the buildings near the western edge of town. This building he picked gave John a clear view of the enemy encirclement. A few arrows flew his way as the warriors in the distance spotted him, but he was well outside bow range. If he had his rifle, he would have shot back, but it was pointless at this range to shoot with his pistols.

He spotted a few groups building campfires. But most of the Harc’otti seemed antsy to start the fight. He also saw the group of leaders was no longer present or at least visible from where he stood. The remaining six automatons were though. Hard to miss their gleaming brass exterior.

They had moved closer to the water.  John could see a line of smaller figures, probably children or Harc’otti females – John couldn’t say for certain at this range – carrying buckets of water back and forth from the river and dumping them in the top of the armor’s water tank.

It seemed Travis was right. The armor required a constant need for water even when just standing still. Whoever had created them either forgot to take a siege into account when they designed the metal monstrosities or simply didn’t care. Considering what John knew of Jacob’s group, he was banking on the latter. He made a mental note of this weakness. While the boiler and the armor itself were too thick to breach with his pistol, he might be able to poke a few holes in those tanks.

As he was scanning the assembled army, something smacked him in the face. John cursed and ducked behind the short wall of the roof, touching the spot on his cheek where he had been hit. It came away bloody. It wasn’t much more than a scratch, but the shot would certainly leave a nasty bruise. At least now he knew what the Harc’otti had been waiting for. It seems they had been resupplied with guns.

He quickly made his way down the building to alert the rest of the scouts. But he didn’t even make it to the ground before the war cry of the Harc’otti was taken up once more.

An enemy of nearly one thousand warriors was bad enough, especially with those steam-powered suits, but now the enemy also had guns. It took away any advantage the town might have had forcing the enemy across the bridges.

There was no time to alert the scouts of this change. He would have to hope they saw the weapons and made for cover. As he jumped off the ladder, he heard the town bell beginning to ring.

Not that he needed it to know the entire enemy force was rushing toward the town. He could feel the ground shake slightly, it reminded him of a stampede.

John would be relying on Travis and the Peacekeepers to deal with the suits as much as possible, he would deal with the sharpshooters. And the civilians across the river would need to defend themselves. At least they had one bridge covered by the other rotary that Seline and Travis had repaired.

He took a deep breath and let it out, centering himself for what came next. It had been a long time since John had been in a situation as dire as this. He recalled the battle and fall of Vegara, the Irtishian Capital. Hopefully, this battle would turn out differently. He hated to admit it but he was definitely more invested in keeping the citizens of Ember Creek alive than he ever was with the monarchy of the Empire.

John may not have wanted this assignment, but he couldn’t deny this place had grown on him in the few weeks he had been here. It reminded him of the simple life he lived as a farmer before being conscripted.

With the army bearing down, John sprinted away from the building he had been perched on. There was a good chance the enemy would swarm it to look for him, and he had no intention of getting surrounded.

After making a few turns, he found an ideal spot for an ambush. He smiled and jumped, easily catching the rafters of the empty stable. Very rarely did people look up. He crouched there, quietly holding the remaining axe he had from the first fight.

It wasn’t long before he heard the whooping holler of the Harc’otti nearby. He listened quietly as doors were kicked in, hacked apart, or simply shoved open. When the warriors found nothing, they simply moved on. On a few occasions, John heard screams. There was nothing he could do for those people. He wanted to, but he wasn’t some god or divine being. He was simply a bit stronger, faster, and harder to kill than most men. And those people had made their choice.

Then he heard the double barrel go off in the distance. It was too far away to hear any screaming, but John knew two shots wouldn’t deter this army.

Eventually, a group of warriors found his little hiding spot. A few with rough stone spears rushed in, stabbing at the piles of hay while others overturned anything where people might be hiding.

As they were occupied, John slipped down from the rafters and got to work.

It took three deaths before the rest of the eight men noticed him. By then, John had already acquired a second axe and tore into the surprised group with abandon. None of them were armed with guns, but that was fine. John discarded the axes and picked up two spears. They weren’t exactly throwing spears, but he was strong enough that it wouldn’t matter.

He thought about hiding back in the rafters again but decided against that. Someone would come across this massacre and be on guard. Instead, he yanked one of the wolf pelts off the dead and threw it over his clothes. Then he hung his hat up on a hook and covered his hair in blood to match the Harc’otti’s style. If they could disguise themselves to look like locals, he could do the same.

John doubted it would hold up to scrutiny for long but that was fine. He wasn’t willing to abandon his long coat or armored vest to complete the look. He just had to hope it would hold up long enough to get him close to the guys with the guns. Before exiting the stable, he threw a crazed look on his face and started screaming much like the warriors.