"FREE-47" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 9 - The Freedom Fighters Of Trelandar)Freedom Fighters of Trelandar A Tale of Adventure in the Second Dark Age Book Nine of the Warlady Series By Jerome B. Bigge Chapter Forty Seven "Can you throw it that far?" I asked, knowing that I could- n't do so. The bottle held a pint of lamp oil with a cotton wick to serve as the "fuse". It would smash upon impact with anything solid, causing the oil inside to go splashing out to catch fire. Such a weapon is "modern" in one sense, and "primitive" in anoth- er, having first been invented in the second of the great wars of the 20th Century. I feel however that the concept is "older" yet than that, and may very well relate back to an era long before... "You light, I'll throw," Carl whispered back at me then. He would have to throw it over the top of the roof so that it hit in the street before the headquarters of the occupation forces here. The night moonless, lit only by a few stars among the clouds now. The middle of summer, the year 2554, the location a village some seventy odd miles from the estate, north of the ruins of Los An- geles. The shadowy figure of the woman with me now slapping at a mosquito. Her husband at her side, heavy set, broad shouldered, held his bow ready, a younger woman, their daughter, late teens, with another. All three of them sweating, nervous, as is common. "I trust your men are in position," I said to him, lighting the fuse, Carl throwing with practiced skill, the bottle with its flaming wick now arching over the building to fall upon the other side. I then tossed the burning match on to the oil I'd poured a minute earlier on the rear of the building, the flames shooting up as we leaped back into the shadow, waiting for their reaction! I saw the door come flying open, my arrow taking the first man in the chest, the next leaping over him to take Carl's arrow, his beloved crossbow too slow of fire for tasks such as this now. An arrow from our companions poorly aimed, wounding, the Imperial stumbling, a fourth drawing his sword, taking another's arrow... Yells from the street leaving no doubts as to what was happening as the Imperials emerged to meet our missiles, to die this night. "We `struck', and hard at the enemy tonight," I said, my hat and veil concealing my features to some extent, my black wig also serving to help "confuse" anyone as to just "who" I was here now. The people of the village standing there, the burning building well lighting things up as others now worked to put out the fire. I wore the black of the Warrioress, the sword at my hip the same blade that my own mother had carried into battle many years ago. There had been no survivors, nor had we given quarter to anyone. As a rule I did not attempt to wipe out an entire garrison, but this time I'd had the forces, and I wanted the enemy, Darlanis herself, to know that I did have the capability of doing so now! "Didn't seem at one time that we'd ever be doing `anything' like this again," Carl said to me as we sat around the campfire. Last night we'd hit, and hard at the Imperial forces, actually to the point of wiping out a little garrison of about fifteen men. Lady Lana and Lady Tirana sitting there quietly watching us both. The men at arms with them men that we knew that could be trusted. Who knew how to keep their mouths shut about our little "trips". Our two Ladies on one of their "shopping trips" as such women do. "The Imperials are no longer being seen as `invincible'," I smiled back, looking into the dancing leaping flames of the small fire we'd built, not so much for heat, but for its "company" now. "We can't beat them in battle, but we can `terrify' them," I said thoughtfully. And with Darlanis' ambitions, she could not afford to reinforce her occupation army here in Trelandar without draw- ing down forces that she needed elsewhere to fight her wars now. "We could keep doing this for years without ever accomplish- ing anything," he pointed out. We were an "annoyance" to Darla- nis, a serious bother to her in some ways, but so far I'd not had any success in recruiting forces "large" enough to "do" anything. With a hundred Warrioresses now I could have gone from village to village wiping out Imperial "occupation garrisons", but I didn't have a hundred Warrioress, or even a "trained" force of any kind! And untrained civilians with home made bows, while effective in a way, could not be expected to stand against any regular military force in open battle. I could kill the enemy, one by one, but in the long run I was accomplishing nothing, and both of us knew it! "You have `doubts', don't you?" Lady Tirana said to me as I stood there looking out into the darkness of the forest. I liked the old Warlady, although she was unfamiliar with "warfare" of the sort that I now practiced, a war without armies, or flags, or any of the ordinary trappings that seemed so important to some. "We need a `leader'," I replied, looking into her dark eyes. I'd thought a few times of what it would be like if we had some- one like Darlanis, blonde, beautiful, a woman who could stand be- fore an army of men and inspire them to march into battle, to die for her cause. "And I can never be the `leader' we need here..." "You led us once to `victory', and you can do so again," she answered, putting her hands on my shoulders. "And we will win." I was glad she thought so, as I didn't think we'd ever do so now. Not unless something now happened to Darlanis and the Empire fell into the hands of Princess Tara, who lacked Darlanis' "charisma". "When Paula was alive there was `hope'," I said, seeing her nod back. Paula had not been Darlanis, but she had been Queen of Trelandar, a tall beautiful woman, who could lead the people too. While not unattractive, I was not a beautiful woman, nor was I of the Warrioresses, which also created problems of its own here... "Perhaps we need to offer the people of Trelandar `more'," Tirana said, walking to a tree, leaning up against it, the flick- ering light of the campfire reflecting in her eyes as I nodded in agreement, well aware of "what" was needed to inspire the people. "There was the American Revolution," I said, Tirana smiling. That was more "legend" now than fact, but I knew it had happened. I know of the "Bill of Rights", that document that had played its rule in the establishment of a society once admired by all then. "Democracy would never `work'," the old Warlady smiled back. That was something everyone believed now, something that was even in a way taught to children, written up in books by my own caste. Janet Rogers had said that "democracy" was a failure, and every- one believed it because SHE had said it. But was the "democracy" of the 20th Century the SAME as the sort of "democracy" that the men of the 18th Century had visualized for the new United States? Or was it a perverted version produced by the Democratic Social- ist Welfare Party which had controlled the country before Janet? "We need to `do' something..." I retorted to Tirana now. "Such things do take time..." she smiled back at me then. ***************************************************************** "Arsana," I said, turning away to smile at my husband, my son standing there at his side while little Sarah held on to me. Lady Lana with her own son Brian standing there at the rail. The capital of Dularn just ahead now as the ship changed its tacks, a cloud covering the sun suddenly placing us all into its shadow. The dark forested island there before us as far as one could see. Those who had taken passage here now gathered at the railing as the crew busied themselves in making the necessary preparations, a small galley coming out to tow us in as is commonly done here. Such craft usually rowed by convicted criminals, castrated men, a practice that has much to recommend it, this Scribe may note now. "Dangerous what we're doing," he answered, Lana nodding. We were supposedly upon a vacation, but if Darlanis had her spies on the job, there was a danger that she might learn the truth here. Then there would be no doubts as to "who" was responsible for all her "problems" in Trelandar. Nor that "Lady Sanda Harles" was me despite all my "tricks" in blurring the identity of the leaderess of the Free Trelandar Movement enough to confuse Darlanis' spies. "Dularn must know that she has `allies'," I answered back, the cloud moving away from the sun, its heat again burning down. The arms of the bay opening up before us as the ship came into it now, exchanging signals with the fortifications, the city beyond. "We don't know here if Darlanis will carry through with her threats," Lady Lana replied, her hazel eyes glowing into my own. It was early summer, the year 2555, and Darlanis had been casting eyes upon the Orgonian territories to the north of Sarn, lands in fact that were parts of territory claimed by Dularn as its own... "Tulis is having trouble trying to smash the `rebels'," Carl interjected, these same "rebels" being actually Darlanis' people. Their activities to a good part being based upon the same sort of stuff that the Free Trelandar Movement was now doing to Darlanis. Such was upon everyone's lips, as was the thought that finally at last here Darlanis would challenge her own mother to a war that I felt neither could win, not Dularn, not California. And the sort of "trickery" that Darlanis had used in Trelandar would not work again, especially not against an old and "experienced" Queen like Tulis was, a woman who had once been Warlady of her own country. Freedom Fighters of Trelandar A Tale of Adventure in the Second Dark Age Book Nine of the Warlady Series By Jerome B. Bigge Chapter Forty Seven "Can you throw it that far?" I asked, knowing that I could- n't do so. The bottle held a pint of lamp oil with a cotton wick to serve as the "fuse". It would smash upon impact with anything solid, causing the oil inside to go splashing out to catch fire. Such a weapon is "modern" in one sense, and "primitive" in anoth- er, having first been invented in the second of the great wars of the 20th Century. I feel however that the concept is "older" yet than that, and may very well relate back to an era long before... "You light, I'll throw," Carl whispered back at me then. He would have to throw it over the top of the roof so that it hit in the street before the headquarters of the occupation forces here. The night moonless, lit only by a few stars among the clouds now. The middle of summer, the year 2554, the location a village some seventy odd miles from the estate, north of the ruins of Los An- geles. The shadowy figure of the woman with me now slapping at a mosquito. Her husband at her side, heavy set, broad shouldered, held his bow ready, a younger woman, their daughter, late teens, with another. All three of them sweating, nervous, as is common. "I trust your men are in position," I said to him, lighting the fuse, Carl throwing with practiced skill, the bottle with its flaming wick now arching over the building to fall upon the other side. I then tossed the burning match on to the oil I'd poured a minute earlier on the rear of the building, the flames shooting up as we leaped back into the shadow, waiting for their reaction! I saw the door come flying open, my arrow taking the first man in the chest, the next leaping over him to take Carl's arrow, his beloved crossbow too slow of fire for tasks such as this now. An arrow from our companions poorly aimed, wounding, the Imperial stumbling, a fourth drawing his sword, taking another's arrow... Yells from the street leaving no doubts as to what was happening as the Imperials emerged to meet our missiles, to die this night. "We `struck', and hard at the enemy tonight," I said, my hat and veil concealing my features to some extent, my black wig also serving to help "confuse" anyone as to just "who" I was here now. The people of the village standing there, the burning building well lighting things up as others now worked to put out the fire. I wore the black of the Warrioress, the sword at my hip the same blade that my own mother had carried into battle many years ago. There had been no survivors, nor had we given quarter to anyone. As a rule I did not attempt to wipe out an entire garrison, but this time I'd had the forces, and I wanted the enemy, Darlanis herself, to know that I did have the capability of doing so now! "Didn't seem at one time that we'd ever be doing `anything' like this again," Carl said to me as we sat around the campfire. Last night we'd hit, and hard at the Imperial forces, actually to the point of wiping out a little garrison of about fifteen men. Lady Lana and Lady Tirana sitting there quietly watching us both. The men at arms with them men that we knew that could be trusted. Who knew how to keep their mouths shut about our little "trips". Our two Ladies on one of their "shopping trips" as such women do. "The Imperials are no longer being seen as `invincible'," I smiled back, looking into the dancing leaping flames of the small fire we'd built, not so much for heat, but for its "company" now. "We can't beat them in battle, but we can `terrify' them," I said thoughtfully. And with Darlanis' ambitions, she could not afford to reinforce her occupation army here in Trelandar without draw- ing down forces that she needed elsewhere to fight her wars now. "We could keep doing this for years without ever accomplish- ing anything," he pointed out. We were an "annoyance" to Darla- nis, a serious bother to her in some ways, but so far I'd not had any success in recruiting forces "large" enough to "do" anything. With a hundred Warrioresses now I could have gone from village to village wiping out Imperial "occupation garrisons", but I didn't have a hundred Warrioress, or even a "trained" force of any kind! And untrained civilians with home made bows, while effective in a way, could not be expected to stand against any regular military force in open battle. I could kill the enemy, one by one, but in the long run I was accomplishing nothing, and both of us knew it! "You have `doubts', don't you?" Lady Tirana said to me as I stood there looking out into the darkness of the forest. I liked the old Warlady, although she was unfamiliar with "warfare" of the sort that I now practiced, a war without armies, or flags, or any of the ordinary trappings that seemed so important to some. "We need a `leader'," I replied, looking into her dark eyes. I'd thought a few times of what it would be like if we had some- one like Darlanis, blonde, beautiful, a woman who could stand be- fore an army of men and inspire them to march into battle, to die for her cause. "And I can never be the `leader' we need here..." "You led us once to `victory', and you can do so again," she answered, putting her hands on my shoulders. "And we will win." I was glad she thought so, as I didn't think we'd ever do so now. Not unless something now happened to Darlanis and the Empire fell into the hands of Princess Tara, who lacked Darlanis' "charisma". "When Paula was alive there was `hope'," I said, seeing her nod back. Paula had not been Darlanis, but she had been Queen of Trelandar, a tall beautiful woman, who could lead the people too. While not unattractive, I was not a beautiful woman, nor was I of the Warrioresses, which also created problems of its own here... "Perhaps we need to offer the people of Trelandar `more'," Tirana said, walking to a tree, leaning up against it, the flick- ering light of the campfire reflecting in her eyes as I nodded in agreement, well aware of "what" was needed to inspire the people. "There was the American Revolution," I said, Tirana smiling. That was more "legend" now than fact, but I knew it had happened. I know of the "Bill of Rights", that document that had played its rule in the establishment of a society once admired by all then. "Democracy would never `work'," the old Warlady smiled back. That was something everyone believed now, something that was even in a way taught to children, written up in books by my own caste. Janet Rogers had said that "democracy" was a failure, and every- one believed it because SHE had said it. But was the "democracy" of the 20th Century the SAME as the sort of "democracy" that the men of the 18th Century had visualized for the new United States? Or was it a perverted version produced by the Democratic Social- ist Welfare Party which had controlled the country before Janet? "We need to `do' something..." I retorted to Tirana now. "Such things do take time..." she smiled back at me then. ***************************************************************** "Arsana," I said, turning away to smile at my husband, my son standing there at his side while little Sarah held on to me. Lady Lana with her own son Brian standing there at the rail. The capital of Dularn just ahead now as the ship changed its tacks, a cloud covering the sun suddenly placing us all into its shadow. The dark forested island there before us as far as one could see. Those who had taken passage here now gathered at the railing as the crew busied themselves in making the necessary preparations, a small galley coming out to tow us in as is commonly done here. Such craft usually rowed by convicted criminals, castrated men, a practice that has much to recommend it, this Scribe may note now. "Dangerous what we're doing," he answered, Lana nodding. We were supposedly upon a vacation, but if Darlanis had her spies on the job, there was a danger that she might learn the truth here. Then there would be no doubts as to "who" was responsible for all her "problems" in Trelandar. Nor that "Lady Sanda Harles" was me despite all my "tricks" in blurring the identity of the leaderess of the Free Trelandar Movement enough to confuse Darlanis' spies. "Dularn must know that she has `allies'," I answered back, the cloud moving away from the sun, its heat again burning down. The arms of the bay opening up before us as the ship came into it now, exchanging signals with the fortifications, the city beyond. "We don't know here if Darlanis will carry through with her threats," Lady Lana replied, her hazel eyes glowing into my own. It was early summer, the year 2555, and Darlanis had been casting eyes upon the Orgonian territories to the north of Sarn, lands in fact that were parts of territory claimed by Dularn as its own... "Tulis is having trouble trying to smash the `rebels'," Carl interjected, these same "rebels" being actually Darlanis' people. Their activities to a good part being based upon the same sort of stuff that the Free Trelandar Movement was now doing to Darlanis. Such was upon everyone's lips, as was the thought that finally at last here Darlanis would challenge her own mother to a war that I felt neither could win, not Dularn, not California. And the sort of "trickery" that Darlanis had used in Trelandar would not work again, especially not against an old and "experienced" Queen like Tulis was, a woman who had once been Warlady of her own country. |
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