Valerios
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Chapter 28: Shaking the World
🕑 Added 2022-03-24 18:44:22 +0000 UTCThough the plan seemed far-fetched, it was their only option. By the time the sun began to set, all the details had been ironed out.
The ground team would be Axehand and Boney. The former was the core of the operation, while the latter would be in charge of tricking the guards into letting them in. If push came to shove, Boney was also quite durable—more than a fleshy living being, anyway—so he’d stand a good chance of escaping.
Jerry, Derek, Headless, and Boboar would be hidden in the thick bushes nearby. From there, Jerry would coordinate the operation—as he could mentally communicate with his undead—and Derek would shoot at the bridge’s ropes. At the same time, Foxy would stealthily climb to the platforms and try to reach the hanging bridge herself; if Derek couldn’t shoot it down, maybe she would be able to cut the ropes.
As for Captain Reymond and the eight Billies, they had a separate mission. Jericho was the most important obstacle to overcome, but they still had an entire gang to fight—therefore, the Captain’s squad would climb the trees from afar, travel over thick branches, and directly assault the treehouse platforms.
This had come after careful deliberation. A diversion would make Foxy’s task easier, and it would also draw some attention away from Axehand and Boney, if need be. Moreover, as they were heavily outnumbered, Reymond had suggested taking the fight to the wooden platforms. Due to the narrow openings and the limited visibility, only a few of the bandits would be able to fight at the same time, preventing the company from being overwhelmed.
The Billy squad would also create panic, mayhem, and would allow the Billies to take the most direct approach to revenge possible. Fighting on hanging bridges or shaky wooden supports wouldn’t be ideal, but Jerry had come to a stunning realization; the Billies actually had a good sense of balance. Though zombies, they were the exact opposite of Headless. Maybe having a head, however light, helped.
And of course, each of the plan’s many legs would occur at the same time. The moment Axehand delivered his first chop against the tree, or when they were discovered, Jerry would give the signal and all hell would break loose.
In the end, what started as a simple plan ended up being quite complex and elaborate, making everyone proud. It was the result of many heads working together, each offering their own insights; a manifestation of their teamwork. Now, all they had to do was wait.
Night fell.
The chirping birds changed tune, the diurnal species giving way to the nocturnal. Most of the forest’s critters disappeared, holing up in their nests to wait the night out, and howls cut through the silence as predators woke up. The moon rose into the sky, illuminating the entire wooden complex in blotches as it poured through the foliage, and the stars did their best to assist with what little illumination they could provide.
It was a magical sight, as was every night in the forest. The bandits went to sleep—or to unspeakable activities—while some of them, grumbling and already bored, stood guard.
There were eighteen of these guards; twelve on the ground and six on the platforms. There were also a few pairs in guard stations peppered in the general vicinity, but those remained there for days on end. None of them expected a night of blood.
“Go, Boney,” whispered Jerry, in constant communication with the other teams. “The others have reached the canopy.”
“Disguises,” the skeleton grumbled, sticking a rug in his mouth to avoid the bone jaw-clacking. “Fine, fine, I’ll dress up.”
Two new bodies lay atop the back-up undead cart. They were both bandits who used to wear cloaks, and who had the misfortune of approaching this blind spot of the guards. They never knew what happened; Jerry snuffed their lives out like candles.
He felt little remorse. The bandits were his enemies.
Soon, two cloaked forms stepped out of the bushes, walking towards the clearing below the hideout.
One of the two was a hulking, intimidating form, its features hidden in the shadow of its hood. As it walked, it emanated an air of brutish terror, as if the person inside could, and would, snap you like a twig.
The second figure seemed remarkably more normal, and this was the one that walked ahead, lightly but purposefully.
Boney and Axehand almost entered the clearing before they were stopped.
“Halt,” ordered a guard, a slim, young man. His eyes trembled as they took in Axehand’s cloaked form. He coughed once. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Jekyll and Hide,” said a raspy, oddly smothered voice from within the hood. “We need to speak to the leader.”
The first guard’s companion—they came in pairs—a short and plump one, narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “We didn’t know you were coming,” he said.
The large hooded figure let out a sudden grunt, scaring the shit out of both guards.
“That is your problem, dipshit.” The first figure’s raspy voice came again. After a small pause, it continued, “We were sent out by Brad, on the direct orders of Jericho. Have either of them come or let us through.”
“We…” The two guards exchanged glances. There was a limit to how loyally a bandit would perform their duties, and the large, menacing, hooded figure came dangerously close to that limit. But on the other hand, if trouble came because of them, Jericho would have their heads.
“We really shouldn’t let you through, or we’ll be in serious trouble…” said the younger guard, his voice almost begging. “Can’t you please wait until morning?”
Two tiny crimson lights appeared in the depths of the large figure’s hood, where his eyes would be. They couldn’t illuminate anything on his face, but they didn’t have to. Another grunt followed, this one brimming with impatience and the promise of swift, painful violence.
“Kid,” the first figure spoke impatiently, “I don’t care. If you don’t let us in, we will kill you.”
Maybe it was the instinct of self-preservation. Maybe it was the shit in their pants. No matter the reason, both guards immediately and unhesitatingly stepped aside and bowed their heads. They did not speak; not due to holding a grudge, but because they feared their voices shaking.
Amongst bandits, vulnerability was a really good way to have a really awful time.
“Heh.” The raspy voice chuckled as the two went through, then spoke, tinted with derision. “Spineless, useless fools.”
The two guards remained silent. It was only a few moments later, when the footsteps went away, that they dared raise their heads. They exchanged a glance, seeing fear in each other’s eyes and sweat on their faces.
“What the hell was that?” whispered the younger one. “What kind of creature has eyes that shine red?”
“Fuck me if I know!” the other hissed, almost hyperventilating. “Let’s get the hell out of here right now. We heard something strange in the woods.”
The two of them immediately and unhesitatingly took off, heading deeper into the darkness. Nobody barred their path. Some time later, when the sounds of battle reached their ears, they dropped everything and ran, never returning to the hideout again. The two of them actually ended up working as guards for the Baron of Milaris, which is where fate found them again, but we’ll talk about that another time.
Boney and Axehand strolled through the clearing like they owned it, heading for the towering tree in the center. Ten pairs of eyes were glued on them; the rest of the guards hadn’t seen the flickers of red under the hood, but they had heard the entire conversation, and they had seen how their two comrades scampered off.
They all knew something was up, but all they did was exchange strained glances. No bandit worth their salt would seek trouble. Besides, the two hooded forms had already gone through; Jericho couldn’t blame the rest of the guards if something happened.
And at the end of the day, even if they did confront these two, and if they really had come to create trouble for Jericho’s gang, what would the guards do then? Die, that’s what, and get a posthumous word of gratitude worth jack shit.
Boney himself understood their thoughts well, which was why he was surprised when another person blocked their path. It was a hard-eyed woman with long, brown hair that she let cascade over the back of her leather armor. She would be beautiful if not for the frozen glint in her eyes.
Fearlessly, she raised a gloved hand at them. “Halt.” Her voice was sharp. “Report yourselves.”
Boney had no eyebrows, but if he did, they would have twitched. “We do not report ourselves to one such as you,” he replied. Axehand grunted impatiently.
“Then you do not step past,” she said simply. “As a guard, I possess the authority to ask you to report yourselves. So go ahead, gentlemen, and be convincing, because I’ve never heard of a Jekyll or Hide among our ranks.”
The clearing froze. The guards watched with wide eyes and cursed under their breaths, unable to believe her stupidity, while even her pair, an older, refined-looking man, only gawked in sheer terror.
Boney stood in silence for a moment, considering his next move. He could just go for the tree—it was pretty close by now—but the sounds of battle would give Jericho a precious bit of extra time; every second counted.
“What’s your name?” he asked frigidly.
“Loretta,” she replied. “Might I have yours, gentlemen?”
“Loretta. Good, good. I will remember this.”
“My loyal adherence to my duties? Please do.”
From the far-off bushes, Jerry chuckled. “I like that one,” he said.
“Quiet.” Derek held his bow half-taut. “I’m concentrating.”
Feeling his master’s amusement through their bond, Boney also cracked a smile—a tiny, crooked smile, but a smile nonetheless. Since his master found this person interesting, he would try not to kill her.
“Our names for this operation are Jekyll and Hide,” he said. “They are fake, for the same reason we wear cloaks. Go tell your superiors we are here. Brad or Jericho will do.”
“I cannot do that,” she responded. “They’re asleep. Wait till morning.”
“It’s important. Let them know at once, or come morning, many people will die, and you will be the first.”
Her brows furrowed.
Snorting, Boney continued, “Send that useless companion of yours. He’ll climb the ladders by the captives’ house, then cross the left bridge and reach Brad’s. Once he enters, Brad will be in the upper bunk of the far right corner—unless he’s changed beds recently, that is.”
The woman, Loretta, hesitated. Boney had just demonstrated knowledge he could only have if he really was one of them—or if he’d captured and thoroughly interrogated one. Her suspicions began to wane.
“George—” she turned to the older man who seemed horribly insulted at being called useless—“go get Brad, please.”
The man’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Yes,” he finally got out, turning to climb the aforementioned ladder.
“Can we sit?” Boney asked. “We’ve traveled long to get here in time.”
“Please,” she replied curtly, her demeanor greatly improved.
Nodding, Boney walked towards the nearby Jericho’s tree, Axehand right behind him. The big skeleton burned with excitement. Loretta did not move to stop them; they were just going to sit against the tree’s bark, after all. She never could have suspected the truth.
“Ah, finally,” Boney exclaimed as they reached the tree. It was a tremendous giant of wood, needing both of them to hug its bark and stretching into the sky. They looked up, meeting the bottom of Jericho’s wooden platform.
“That’s terribly far away, isn’t it, my friend?” asked the skeleton, and Axehand grunted in agreement. He could barely contain himself.
From the opposite side of the clearing, the guards suddenly saw bright crimson flames light up inside their hoods, illuminating bare skulls. They froze. Boney smiled.
“Axehand,” he said, “cut this damn tree down.”
Axehand shivered in excitement. Throwing his cloak away, he reared his right hand back and whipped it forward, the blade smashing into the bark with enough force to shake the world.
