The Mage of Knutesia

[Atehequa]

Cups were raised and clanked together then they all quaffed deeply. The fiery New River Valley whisky brought about more than one gasp as it went down. Five men sat around an oak desk drinking, but their mood seem not at all jovial. Having slipped away from the festivities at the ballroom, they now drank in a candle lit chamber which usually served as a clerk's office.

Sitting his cup down, Donald of Craig once again lifted the big jug as to pour another round for everyone. Instead of smiling faces, the hard looks of his guests were not much more than angry glares. Although he pretended not to notice, he could feel those hard eyes upon him. Richly clad in a finely embroidered midnight blue robe of office, Donald was not only the best dressed, but the tallest man there. Long wavy golden blonde hair fell about his broad shoulders and he regarded the four others with bloodshot deep blue eyes. He hailed from an old family that had long held much sway in this area. For over two hundred years these Craigs had served on and off as mayors of Roanoke also known as Star City, the gem of the Blue Ridge. Now in all his finery, Donald of Craig sat behind a court clerk's desk pouring from the jug his guest brought along. To them, he did not seem at all like his old self.Now obviously feigning cheerfulness, at first Donald appeared somewhat agitated by these men's unexpected arrival here at the mayor's grand hall during his engagement celebration.

The first cup he poured was that of Captain John O'Neal, one of Donald's dearest friends. Somewhat above middle height, O'Neal's broad shoulders, sturdy frame and wild bearing betokened a life often spent away from the comforts of civilization. His dark inscrutable face and pale grey eyes added to an already fierce appearance. Like Donald's other guests he wore his long dark hair in a single back braid and was clad in similar fashion, dark greenish-grey buckskins. They came armed as well and that alone was unsettling enough at a formal function. Donald of Craig, Mayor of Roanoke had offered to provide these men with formal attire, but they declined and kept their buckskins on. Having been summoned here from the New River Valley concerning a matter of great importance, these Appalachian Rangers were a week late of their expected arrival. Unannounced and most certainly uninvited to this grand celebration they gained entry to the mayor's hall by way of a secret entrance Donald had revealed to O'Neal some years ago. Upon ambling into the ballroom both dancing and music came to a halt. It was then Donald swiftly ushered these men out. Although these Rangers respected Donald's title, they still thought him to be one of them, however upon this evening he acted and appeared otherwise.

Not only the Mayor of Roanoke, Donald upheld the law throughout the upper Roanoke River Valley. High official or not, they thought it rude of Donald to have whisked them away from the big party without any refreshment first. Up until now any Ranger was considered and treated as an honored guest in this grand hall. Donald seemed to have forgotten he would not be mayor or perhaps even alive if it wasn't for Captain O'Neal and other Rangers like him. Even though a week late for this meeting, out of friendship and respect these Rangers who were not bound to any Mayor's command, arrived as summoned. These men were of free companies of fighting men who were supported by the townsmen and farmers of the Appalachian highlands. Supplies came in the way of gratuities for keeping the good people safe in dangerous times. Two of Donald's four guests were Ranger captains and like others of their rank led companies ranging in numbers from only a few to a few hundred. Upon occasion, they commanded armies of thousands. These four Rangers were of two companies together numbering five hundred and fifty. Accompanying them were three hundred or so volunteers from the New River Valley, mostly the sons of farmers out for some adventure and spoils. In the morning they all would be riding north to join another large force of Rangers and volunteers at Chimney Rock.

Drinking cups all filled, the meeting abruptly began. Captains Harlow and O'Neal spoke of troubles in the northern Shenandoah Valley. A rogue upstart mayor of Martinsburg had declared himself king of the northern valley. Already controlling affairs in Winchester, Charles Town and Berryville, this would be conqueror had began campaigns of aggression against other neighboring towns. Middletown had already fallen and now other northern valley towns were under siege. O'Neal requested the assistance of no less than two thousand Star City dragoons and several artillery units. Harlow must of sensed something was wrong by studying Donald's face. Left hand thrown up as a signal for O'Neal to fall silent, Captain Harlow asked Donald of his thoughts regarding these troubles in the northern valley. Although of small stature, Captain Frank Harlow was wiry and could fight like a bobcat. His copper colored hair, shot with premature grey and his superb woodcraft earned him the nickname Grey Fox. Awaiting Donald's reply Harlow's eyes were slits of deep green bale fire. The Mayor merely smiled, lifted his cup, drained it's contents then calmly stated that such ugly accusations of aggression in the northern Shenandoah Valley were coming from those not willing to respect regional laws, some going as far as sedition and acts of violence. Rising from the desk Donald excused himself for a short while and walked out. Not a word was spoken by these four rangers, but their eyes clearly expressed the sense of betrayal they were experiencing. Several minutes passed before Donald returned with an envelope. Handing it to Harlow, he bade the Captain to open it and read. Having done so with a savage snarl playing upon his lips, Harlow handed the paper to O'Neal who did the same.

Donald continued discussing what he thought was occurring up in the northern Shenandoah, but without even a goodbye, the four Rangers got up and saw their way out.

"He wants us to do what? Oh the hell with that shit!" Ranger North growled having heard the outcome of Harlow and O'Neal's meeting with Donald. The huge ranger doffed his black tam, snarled and shifted his glaring eyes into the campfire. The huge Galaxian also felt a sense of betrayal. Harlow seemingly in a better mood once back at the Ranger encampment lit his pipe, laughed and said: "The Mayor of Roanoke requests we dismiss the volunteers and take ourselves east to patrol betwixt foothills and the James River. Never mind that, we're still heading north come morning"
"And what's this about Johnny here being sent to Winchester on a diplomatic mission?" Ranger North demanded while tugging at his dark beard. O'Neal took a swig out of the jug, passed it to North and replied: "Donald wants me and five other Rangers along with the Vice Mayor of Bedford to meet with the leaders of Winchester, Berryville, Charles Town, Shannondale, and Martinsburg. We are to deliver papers and tokens of friendship from the south to reaffirm alliances." North had himself a long quaff and laughed: "Glorified messenger boys!"
"Perhaps in whatever ever frame of mind Donald of Craig is in these days, but I figure to have myself a good look around and find out what we what we are up against." Captain Harlow blew out a cloud of pungent smoke, coughed and said: "Once we join up with the others at Chimney Rock we'll allow you a week to snoop around, but after that we're coming up to take the high ground. I suggest you pick your five Rangers and set out at once to fetch the Vice Mayor of Bedford." Taking another drawl from his pipe Harlow added: "And Johnny, find out where old Irving's heart is before letting him know our intentions." O'Neal rose from the ground and stated: "That old devil's heart is no doubt in the bottle and he probably knows more of our intentions than we do."

Although Vice Mayor Irving was not at all troubled by being roused out of a warm bed a couple of hours shy of dawn, his wife on the other hand appeared quite put off by having her husband whisked away by old Ranger friends who were also occasional carousing companions. She well remembered last spring when O'Neal and a few other Rangers took Irving up to the resort town of Natural Bridge for business they said was Ranger associated in nature. Mrs. Irving long suspected these official Ranger trips were no more than outings to distant bawdy houses and infamous taverns. This time however she sensed something was different, judging by O'Neal's demeanor. Standing just outside of the sitting room's door, she heard her husband growl: "Diplomatic mission my ass! Donald has gone soft in the head. I heard only yesterday that the town of Bolivar at the fork of the Shenandoah and Potomac is under siege. I also know that the community at Lake Cacapon has already been taken by brigands calling themselves the Army of the Northern Shenandoah. I've heard much this past week or so, just as I know that you and Harlow have been mustering a fighting force in the New River Valley. We should first visit the area faking smiles and feigning diplomacy all the wile taking good notice what is going on up there. Donald has already sent me a cart full of pricey trinkets to appease these would be conquerors, or as he refers to them, enterprising men of vision" A rather rangy fellow with a shock of silver hair and neatly trimmed beard, he walked with a tall hickory stick having been made somewhat lame by a bullet wound during his days as an Appalachian Ranger. Highly educated and having a knack for diplomacy, the Vice Mayor possessed other skills as well.

Aside from two hastily packed leather travel bags, three long barreled dragoon pistols, a unadorned smallsword and of course his walking stick, all Irving had left to make ready Donald's mule cart of gifts. He also packed up two of his own mules as well with provisions for this journey. Kissing his obviously worried wife goodbye he left with the six Rangers.

Making another stop on the other side of Bedford and much to the surprise of O'Neal, Irving fetched his mistress.

He explained that she was being escorted to her family home in the town of Bryce several miles north of Chimney Rock. O'Neal and the other Rangers waited with their horses out in the street while Irving assisted her. Already packed, she was taking some time in getting dressed. Just as the Vice Mayor was finishing saddling and packing her mount, she strolled out the door. From a distance O'Neal saw she was of middle height, with long dark hair, but the rest of her features were obscured by darkness and covered in a cloak of sorts. "A mule train and a concubine. Harlow is just going to love this." O'Neal whispered to his comrades while they strained their eyes in attempting to better see her. "Ahhh, the Lady Murlina." chuckled Ranger Vanwerden well out of Irving's earshot. "She's no common strumpet."
"No?" O'Neal inquired as he wondered what other surprises would come before sunrise. Vanwerden a young tawny haired fellow from Schuyer smiled and said: "She just happens to be the niece of Front Royal's Mayor Watson."
"Mayor Samuel 'Cannonball' Watson's blood kin?"
"She's the daughter of Mrs. Watson's sister, the Lady Iris of Bryce"
"And how do you know all this, Vanwerden?"
"My sister went to school and roomed with Murlina in Blacksburg. I seen her at a dance there some five years ago. The last my sister heard of Murlina, her parents had sent her to Roanoke to visit another relative. How she ended up in Bedford with Irving is anyone's guess."

Across the yard of Murlina's rented cottage came Irving, leading her astride a piebald mare to where the others waited. Murlina's face was now mostly concealed by a hooded cloak that fell just short below her knees. She was wearing well fitting riding britches and soft leather boots. Murlina's only greeting was a slow nod to each of the Rangers.

Once beyond the guarded gates of Bedford Irving drew in a great breath, loudly exhaled and jovially proclaimed: "It's good to be away from that town and in the company of Rangers again!" That said they trotted westward just ahead of the rising sun which overtook them at Thaxton Crossroads. It was there that Lady Murlina drew back her hood and revealed a most beautiful face framed by a mass of thick chestnut brown hair. A mysterious grin played upon her full lips as she regarded the Rangers with lovely hazel eyes. Irving flashed a big smile and stated: "Gentlemen, this is the Lady Murlina whom we will be escorting to her family in Bryce"
"Who is escorting her to Bryce, when we and the army will be traveling west of there upon the Lost River Road?" O'Neal asked.
"At Mathias she can head east through the Cove Mountain Gap and over Great North Mountain down to Bryce. I'm sure you could spare a couple of Rangers to escort her safely home." Irving replied.
At that Murlina sneered: "Oh come now Irv, my father won't shoot you on sight, but my mother just might." Ignoring her words, Irving took a big swig from a large flask he carried and inquired: "So we're joining up with Harlow and later with other Rangers in the central valley?"
"Yes we are."
"Excellent!" Irving gleefully shouted then offered his flask to O'Neal who refused and added: "I hope to get up with Harlow as quickly as possible and don't expect to be slowed down by having to get you remounted after every time you fall off your horse. It may be best for all of us to keep clear heads until we catch up with the others." Irving had himself another swig then put his flask away. "Harlow as you said is now camped just north of Roanoke and probably breaking camp as we speak. By the time we reach that point, he'll probably be on the upper James and that's if we ride straight through without sleep."
"He and the others will be waiting for us near Rathole Mountain beside the James, still I do not want to hold them up by taking my sweet time getting there so it's best you keep somewhat sober, Captain Irving." Hearing his old title spoken brought a smile to the Vice Mayor's face.

Just outside the town of Blue Ridge, O'Neal's party met Otop Owens a well known traveling merchant. Here of late Owens had taken to peddling liquor and reefer which explained the two arm guards in his company. Stopping to sample some of his wares by a swift running creek, Owens informed O'Neal's party that there was a small company of Roanoke dragoons asking townsfolk and travelers if they have seen any Rangers in the area. "So Donald has deployed dragoons to monitor our movements?" O'Neal growled. Vanwerden spat and said: "Well so much for mutual respect and trust." Irving however was quite pleased with the good fortune of meeting this peddler of reveling supplies and rewarded his information by making a somewhat large purchase. Making room in Donald's mule cart, the Vice Mayor stored a dozen bottles of peach brandy, two jugs of whisky and a sizable doeskin pouch filled with Goshen Gold smoking weed, some of the finest in this area.

Watching Owens, his wagon and guards ride ride out of sight around a bend,Irving asked O'Neal: "So what now? Unless we detour around Blue Ridge, we're liable to run smack into Donald's tracking hounds." Before O'Neal could reply the sound of hoof beats came thundering up the rise. Within seconds they were surrounded by some twenty or more Roanoke dragoons. Although clad in the dark blue, scarlet trimmed uniforms of Roanoke, O'Neal recognized none of them, but did notice they were all armed to the teeth and packing bedrolls. One of them, a rather sinister looking fellow with a red beard trotted forward then halted a few feet in front of Murlina and Irving.

"I'm looking to address Captain O'Neal"

The Ranger Captain said nothing, but slowly brought up a hand to scratch his left ear as a signal the others would be familiar with. "I'm Captain O'Neal." Ranger Dolan said. About the same height and build as O'Neal, as well as having dark features, Dolan was often mistaken as the Ranger captain from a distance. Advancing towards the Dragoon leader, Dolan boldly demanded: "And whom may I ask are you, sirrah?" Pointing up at the two silver stars upon his black wide brimmed hat, the dragoon replied in an obvious feigned friendly tone. "Why I'm Major Jones, of the 111th company of Star City Dragoons" Irving cocked his head as if puzzled. "I thought there were only a hundred and ten dragoon companies"
"We are newly forming by order of Mayor Craig" The Major returned in an overly pleasant tone. Dolan, playing the part well inquired: "And why are you looking for me, Major Jones?"
"We are to escort your party north up the eastern Shenandoah Valley Road to Winchester." Before Dolan could get a word out, Irving issued a short bark of laughter and said: "Splendid! Major Jones, I'm Irving, Vice Mayor of Bedford and appointed by Mayor Craig to meet with leaders of the northern valley. This is the Lady Murlina of Bryce whom we are escorting home, but now I'm afraid she is a bit under the weather, so we're hoping a day and night's rest at the Blue Ridge Inn will put her on the mend, that is if you and your men do not mind the delay."
"Not at all Vice Mayor" Jones replied appearing rather relieved that no negative confrontation had occurred.

While riding down Blue Ridge's main street all O'Neal could hope for was that no one would recognize him or Dolan and blow his cover. Such guile was necessary in case the party had to split up in shaking this Major Jones off their trail. Luckily no one did and soon Captain O'Neal and his seven companions were checking into a large two bedroom suite at the Blue Ridge Inn. Major Jones and two of his officers took a suite as well leaving the other dragoons to make camp on the grounds. Irving, seemingly out of generosity gave Jones and his men the two big jugs of whisky. He also had food sent to them from the Inn's kitchens. O'Neal chuckled while thinking what Donald of Craig would do if he caught his watch dogs swilling whisky like there was no tomorrow. Rather swiftly they were drunk and staggering upon the lawn. Peering out a window at them, Irving smiled, gulped down a cup of peach brandy and whispered: "Excellent. By evening these buffoons will be out cold and we shall depart under the cover of darkness. That Major Jones has not a clue."
No sooner did those words leave his mouth there was a loud knocking upon the oaken door.

Walking softly to the door, O'Neal looked out the peephole and then shot a cross eyed glance at Irving before opening it. There stood Jones, obviously in a drunken state.
"Yes Major, how can we help you?" Dolan asked.
"I would be honored if you, the Vice Mayor and the Lady Murlina would join me and my officers for dinner this evening in the dining room" Jones slurred while his eyes darted about the room looking for any sign of the Lady who had ducked into a bed chamber. Irving poured the Major a cupful of brandy, handed to him and replied:"Why Major we three would be honored to join you for dinner, that is if the Lady Murlina is feeling better. If not Captain O'Neal and I shall gladly enjoy dining with you and your officers this evening"
"Hopefully the Lady Murlina too!" Jones said loudly. Flashing a sinister smile, the major of dragoons tipped his hat and turned to join his fellows out on the lawn. Closing and locking the door, O'Neal looked at the others as well as Lady Murlina coming from hiding and said: Ahhh, it appears Major Jones has drunken aspirations." Then he mocked the dragoon, "Hopefully the Lady Murlina too" O'Neal laughed then stretched out on a couch where he advised the others: "You may do good by getting a few hours sleep"

Awakening to the sound of knocking, O'Neal sprung to his feet only to see that Rangers Dolan, Vanwerden and Price were already at the door. Although the room was lit by candles and a lantern, O'Neal could see out the window that it was already dark outside. The Captain had slept longer than he had planned. Looking out the peephole onto the dimly lit walled in stoop, Dolan snarled and asked: "Who is it?"
"It's Major Jones" A voice loudly slurred in return. "All y'all ready for supper?" At that point Irving stepped out of the bedroom fully dressed and armed shouting:"Give us about an hour, good Major for the Lady Murlina to get washed up and dressed to join us. In fact we all need to clean up a bit, but you can come in anyway for a drink!" Moving towards the door, Irving motioned for Dolan to open it.

Jones and an equally drunk portly blonde hair fellow whom was introduced as Captain Tor staggered into the suite. Halting, Jones looked about the chamber then his bloodshot eyes fell upon the Vice Mayor.

"Expecting trouble?"

Irving merely laughed and dryly stated: "Whenever travelling, I always arm myself. One never knows what danger lurks in strange towns and upon dark roads."
"No need to worry good sir" Jones assured him, "We'll watch over your party" Irving bowed to the Major and said: "It's a comfort to know we are in safe hands. How about something to drink before dinner gentlemen? Please come have a seat at our table" Reaching into a travel bag, Irving produced a green glass bottle, pulled out the cork and poured two cupfuls for the dragoons. "Some fine muscadine grape brandy I purchased from a true craftsman in Buchanan. Enjoy my friends." Draining their cups, the two dragoon leaders held them out for another round. Obliging them, Irving then sit the bottle down and said: "A marvelous elixir, rather relaxing" Jones quaffed down a second cup, while it seemed Tor was having a little trouble holding his head up, but that didn't stop the dragoon from guzzling down a second cup himself. At that point Murlina sashayed into the sitting room fully dressed in her riding clothes. "Everyone ready for dinner? I'm ready for some lively company." Smiling at Jones she softly purred: "What a nice uniform. Is it comfortable?" Jones whose head was wobbling, doffed his hat revealing a shaven pate. Murlina's beautiful smiling face was the last thing he saw that evening as the cup slid from numb fingers and his head hit the table with a dull thud. Tor attempted to rise, but pitched forward upon the hardwood floor.

"One cup was enough." Irving stated. "These poor excuses for fighting men will be out of action until sometime tomorrow afternoon or later."
"What the hell was in that juice?" Vanwerden asked while looking at the two out of commission dragoons. Irving laughed and replied: "A sleeping potion, that Murlina here procured in Lynchburg. It tinges well with wild grape brandy, but never mind that. Let us get ready to depart as soon as possible before those drunken soldier boys come looking for their major."

Grabbing their gear, O'Neal's party stealthily made their way out the back door and into the night...

[Atehequa]

For O'Neal and his party it had been rough going after slipping out of town. However, ascending Blue Ridge Mountain in the dark upon a narrow winding trail proved somewhat easier after unloading certain items from Donald's cart and packing them on mule back. O'Neal and the others lowered Donald's cart and a number of gifts down into a well wooded narrow ravine then covered it with brush they cut from a strand of rhododendron. A hard task considering they worked at night while not having even a full moon for light. Thank goodness the sky was clear. Irving grumbled a bit about having to sacrifice those two huge jugs of fine whisky for a successful getaway, but all that liquor and Murlina's sleeping potion did allowed them an escape as well as a good lead if the dragoons picked up their trail. Rangers Vanwerden, Dolan and Price rode slowly behind as a rearguard, while Ranger Custalow of the Hidden Valley Mattaponi Nation scouted ahead on foot. Captain O'Neal along with Ranger Goodman stayed with Irving, Murlina and the pack mules. These precautions were necessary as Donald or others could have more men searching for them.

Following two hours of rugged ascent in the dark, O'Neal's party found themselves upon the old Blue Ridge Parkway, a truly majestic ridge top road winding from the Cherokee country in the south, northwards to Afton Mountain where it connected with the old Skyline Drive winding into Front Royal. Built in a time of monstrous motorized vehicles, these mountain top roads were once for leisurely travel. Now they were kept up by the eastern Appalachians for defense purposes as well as necessary travel. O'Neal had often patrolled it's whole stretch. Still they could not be sure who else may be patrolling up there tonight. Traveling around two miles northward, they halted and made a cold camp off the road in which to rest. Jerked venison, brown bread and cheese was washed down with some of Irving's brandy. No tell tale campfire or loud drunken banter would betray their position. Sentry duty shared in short shifts, they all manged to get a few hours of light sleep.

On the last watch with the coming of dawn, O'Neal located a nearby spring for water, made a small fire and brewed up a hot pot of chicory for his companions who he would awaken soon. Gazing eastward, he could see McFalls Mountain and beyond that, the lofty Peaks of Otter. At first this morning looked to be clear, but from the northwest a heavy fog began drifting in which would provide them excellent cover. Filling his lungs with the cool damp air, O'Neal was happy to be in the high country again. These dark wooded ridges were like old friends and here he was among them. Hearing last Autumn's leaf litter rustle, O'Neal turned to see Murlina rise. Standing and wrapping up in her blanket, she walked over to O'Neal's small fire.

"Where's the sun?" She inquired following a yawn. O'Neal smiled and replied: "It's somewhere beyond this low cloud slowly passing through." Accepting a cup of chicory sweetened with honey, Murlina gazed out at the remaining panoramic view being swiftly obscured by fog. Turning she looked at him with those lovely hazel eyes which drew his like beads of morning dew upon wildflower petals. "I was hoping to get in some sightseeing." She said, sounding a little disappointed.
"It's a blessing, Lady" O'Neal stated, still somewhat mesmerized by her strangely beautiful eyes. "And how is that?" She asked.
Pointing his finger to the south, O'Neal replied: "If by chance, when that doltish major of dragoons awakens and happens to figure out our route of departure, this fog will not allow him or his hounds any clear views of us from afar and will also impede whatever tracking abilities they may possess."
"Makes sense." She said looking deep into his grey eyes. Murlina then asked why Donald felt it necessary to deploy them. "Who knows why he would send those idiots instead of better men? He and several of the other mayors for some reason are attempting to play down troubles in the northern Shenandoah as slight civil unrest, but we know better."
"Then there is going to be another war?" Lady Murlina asked appearing somewhat concerned. Shifting his gaze to a distant ridge becoming shrouded by fog, he replied: "Between the lowland and western raiders, I've not had a full year of peace since childhood." In a sympathetic gesture, Murlina gently stroked O'Neal's broad shoulder. "Irving told me what became of your parents. I am so sorry for your loss." The Ranger captain's eyes narrowed to slits of stormy grey and a savage snarl twisted his face for a few seconds. Looking into the low burning fire, he recounted the horror of that day as a boy years ago. "I was only eleven years old when my father took up land to farm downstream on the James River too far northeast of Lynchburg. For two years we tilled the fertile riverside land and enjoyed bountiful harvests, but then came the day my father realized the mistake he made by settling right across the river from lowland territory." Looking back up at Murlina, O'Neal continued: "Seeing them come across the cornfield that evening, he sent my mother and I running to the woods then attempted to buy us some time for our escape. Only I made it to the woods as my mother was shot dead before reaching cover. They chased me around in those woods until darkness and thick underbrush greatly hampered their hunt. Two days later, Rangers under Irving's command found me wandering in the foothills. At age thirteen, I joined the Rangers and have glutted my revenge upon those swarthy lowland bastards. I've killed a many since that day"
Murlina had heard Irving's stories of how they annihilated thousands at the battles of Oronoco, Charlottesville and Swift Run Gap. These victories have for sometime quelled lowlander aspirations of conquering the highlands. Now only smaller forces of lowlanders practiced hit and run raids. Smiling she attempted to take his mind off that tragedy. "Well at least you've had some rest down in the New River Valley. I'm rather acquainted with some of the resort areas along that river as well as the legendary taverns of Blacksburg, Radford and Pandapas. Tell me Captain, have you ever been to the Brush Mountain Tavern in Pandapas?"
"I've rode right on by it several times on my way to more reasonable priced establishments" O'Neal replied, adding: "Our Spring camp is further to the south across the New River from Hiwassee. It's not always peaceful down in that part of the hills as a powerful brigand from Tazewell has united most of the surrounding communities into a confederacy no doubt supplied by those so called cities of peace, Bluefield, Princeton and Wytheville. Lord Hoerniein he calls himself and his brigands have been raiding to the north, south, east and west. We killed several hundred of these rogues attempting to besiege Fort Bland last month. Since then they have not troubled those to their east and south. Murlina stepped back from O'Neal and said: "All this fighting and killing has gone on for much too long. Surely you have thought about getting out of it and settling down somewhere"
"That's what my father thought to do, but they found his head stuck on a post a few feet away from the ashes of our home and what was left of my mother. When I've had enough, I'll move even deeper into these mountains and far from so called friends who would send a pack of drunken louts to monitor or direct my comings and goings. If I have to shoot or knock in a few more heads of assholes in my retirement, then so be it." O'Neal's face appeared even darker in the fog and savage fires burned in his eyes. Murlina was both frightened by and fascinated with this man. Irving had told her of O'Neal's fighting prowess as well as his loyalty to his friends. Right when she was imagining how this fellow would look in civilized attire, a voice boomed from behind.

"Drunken louts did you say?" Vice Mayor Irving walked over to join them beside the road and bade both: "Good morning youngsters." From a lack of sleep and no doubt the brandy he consumed before bed, Irving's eyes were rather bloodshot. Not the first time either of them had seen this old Ranger turned civic leader in such a state. Instead of having a cup of chicory, Irving went straight for the brandy. "Hair of the dog." he chuckled before taking a big swig out of the bottle. "Both drunken and loutish upon meeting us outside of Blue Ridge yesterday morning."
"And who would know more about being drunken and loutish than you, Captain Irving?" O'Neal laughed.
"Like no Star City Dragoons I've ever saw before." Custalow said a top a yawn and during a morning stretch. "No telling where Donald recruited those slack jaw bastards from." stated Vanwerden as he rose from his blankets. "They were rather odd looking." Price mentioned as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. Tall and rangy with golden hair, it had been said that Price who hailed from just east of Roanoke, was the bastard son of Donald's uncle Glen Craig well known for his numerous affairs with any farm lasses he could lure into the sack. Ambling over to the fire, Price poured himself a cup of chicory, took a few sips and stated: "They look like some of those crazy fuckers from west of Walker Mountain."
"You're not suggesting that Donald would go as far as enlisting some of Hoerniein's henchmen, are you, Price?" O'Neal asked somewhat taken aback. "It's quite possible, knowing something of what Donald's mindset, or lack of is here of late, but we'll discuss that later after joining up with Harlow and the others. For now we should descend from these ridge tops and put more distance betwixt us and them, that is if those sorry ass hounds are capable of picking up our trail." Irving told his travelling companions.

Somewhat overgrown and not all that visible to even sharp eyes, especially in these foggy conditions, they found the entrance to a small winding pathway leading westward down from the mountains.


By late afternoon O'Neal's party had descended the Blue Ridge, crossed over Timber Ridge and were heading northwards upon the Southern Allegheny Highway. Dusk found them traveling along side of the upper James River making for the bridge at Rathole Mountain. The farmers they passed leaving their fields, either saluted in appreciation of these Rangers, or else stood and gawked. One, an elderly man by the name of Brill, when asked,told them he had seen no Star City Dragoons passing through.

As night began to fall, Murlina inquired about the possibility of stopping and making camp, but was informed by O'Neal, "Not until we catch up with Captain Harlow and the others whom should be not all that far away" O'Neal had reason to press on as in the back of his mind were Major Jones and his company of sots. Also he thought about Donald and if he had deployed other dragoons as well. Aside from that his party were traveling through friendly country. Already they had been delayed by Murlina and Irving's desire to stop for brunch at an roadside tavern. O'Neal was also concerned about how Irving's fondness for hard drink could affect their so called diplomatic mission.

O'Neal's party found Captain Harlow camped across the James River beside Rathole Mountain. Harlow and North welcomed Irving with bear hugs and the three proceeded to swig whisky. Helping himself to a bottle of Irving's peach brandy, O'Neal spoke briefly about encounter with Major Jones. Joining the others sitting around a blazing campfire. Harlow, North and several other Rangers were well on their way to intoxication. Some, in between swigs, gnawed on jerky and munched hunks of bread, while others smoked their pipes. The still air was thick with campfire, tobacco and reefer smoke. Typical evening in a Ranger encampment. O'Neal quaffed deeply and looked about at all the fires burning bright. Volunteers mixed and reveled with Rangers, after all many were either kinfolk or good friends. Although they had no close discipline, there was more of a practical order. One would expect an encampment of hundreds to be loud, but these men kept their reveling voices low and although now drinking happily, knew full well they were going to war. Well over a hundred miles from the northern Shenandoah, pickets and sentries were still posted. There also had been reports of lions, panthers and mountain ogres. At over eight hundred strong encamped in friendly territory, these men had little to be concerned about. Harlow and Irving got along rather well, and soon were gloriously drunk. It was rumored that Harlow was the bastard son of Irving's brother Carl, but no one spoke openly about it. By the fire between gulps of whisky Irving talked about Donald's strange behavior and made mention of the Mayor's wife to be, the Lady Katrina. "Now boys, I'm hardly one to speak of morals and marriage, especially when drinking, but Donald didn't even mourn his last wife's untimely death even a half year before getting engaged with that moon bird from Wytheville." Ranger North issued a short bark of laughter and slurred: "Wytheville, or what we Galaxians refer to as Witchville, a town fraught with moon bugs."
"Come now fellows!" Harlow laughed, "I've never met Donald's fiancee, but cannot imagine him marrying a witch or moon bug" At that the huge Galaxian Ranger roared with laughter before saying: That is because you have never set foot in Wytheville. In fact all of your leisure time down on the New River was spent courting that young widow in Mack Creek Village. You've never met Katrina or her type. They say those witches can shrink a man's head down to the size of a walnut" Aside from such drunken banter, Ranger North hailed from an area where truth and fact was highly regarded. Although holding a leading Ranger's rank, North was thought as of such. A somewhat modest man, North had turned down captain promotions several times. An excellent horseman, as long as he had a horse big enough to carry him, North had proven his fighting prowess time after time.

"I've been to Wytheville a few times." It was O'Neal who decided to weigh in. "As you recall North, each of my visits involved fetching you and other wayward Rangers back to camp from the taverns and pleasure houses in that nest of moon bugs." The big man regarded O'Neal with icy blue eyes and growled: "We were there picking up supplies"
"More like trying to pick up some of those drifty eyed moon birds." O'Neal returned swigging down another good measure of brandy. "Moon bugs indeed!" Irving laughed, but continued in a more serious tone, "It has been said that Lady Katrina and her sister, the queen of Wytheville are sorceresses out of Knutesia."
"Knutesia? Why I thought that place was just a myth or at least a scary campfire story best told with reefer smoke." Harlow said while taking a pipe passed to him. "Hardly a myth or stoned campfire story." Irving stated, adding: " It's existed for a long time, but people who live near enough to that den of devils rarely speak openly about it" Lighting his pipe, O'Neal asked: "What do you consider near enough as we're only a little over a hundred miles from that hole?" Irving had another swig and replied: "Oh near enough not to shout at the top of our lungs as even Rangers are never sure who or what listens from the outer darkness. These are dangerous times even though they are touted as days of peace" Lighting his own ornate pipe, Irving exhaled three perfect smoke rings. With a sweeping gaze he addressed the two Captains and other Rangers present. "Brothers, this is what I know. Over three hundred years ago the old United States of America, already weakened by wars, poverty, disease, civil unrest and all other calamities that greed brings about, finally ceased to be in one season. Winter never came in the year 2052, instead it rained and continued to do so well into the summer. Over a half year of constant rain. When it finally stopped, much of the east coast was no more. The once great cities and ports of Hampton Roads, Charleston, Savannah, Jacksonville and Miami lay under the waves. Just as people had settled some miles inland a terrible convulsion shook the earth and more land was claimed by the ocean. Washington, the old capitol lay in ruin. Thousands of dead buried beneath rubble. A great sickness killed many more. Another great convulsion shook the world and a shallow sea was formed in the Mississippian lowlands" Taking another swig, the Vice Mayor continued, "The great cataclysm. Many died and those who survived fled to higher ground. We Appalachians were almost overran with hordes of desperate hungry people. With some of them came a great evil."

Pausing again to relight his pipe as a barred owl began to hoot, Irving noticed the men were set in a mood to hear more.

"The Knutesians!" O'Neal growled while pointing his pipe stem to the west. "Damned parasites of humanity and mostly behind all the ills of Appalachia since their ancestors crossed over the ridge. I know of a former Ranger from Narrows Town who shoots anyone he thinks of Knutesian blood on sight. He left the Rangers and took up hunting them full time"
"Ahhh Andy Urlinski, originally hailing from western Pennsylvania and of family who has been hunting Knutesians for hundreds of years, I know of him well." Irving added then continued on topic, one he never spoke of to Murlina who was now sipping brandy and all ears.

"In the last few decades before the great cataclysm, America was being hacked at from the outside and rotting inside. Poverty was at an all time high,rampant crime, police brutality, civil unrest, mental illness, greed and disease all overshadowed by the constant wars with resource rich Islamic lands. Then in 2040 came President Kyle Knuteson and his first Lady Kathryn"
"A time of rescue and deliverance" Vanwerden laughed recalling Knuteson's campaign motto. Irving had another slug of whisky and said: "A time of terror and death. If not for their monstrous acts, they could be look at as being humorous, but that clan was America's death knell. His promise to rescue and deliver lifted hearts and brought about a false sense of hope, especially for Christians who saw America's mounting troubles as punishment from god for allowing the devil a free hand in government. On September 11th 2041, the Dallas massacre occurred. Fifteen hundred people mowed down with what they use to call machine guns by fifty so called Marxists at an outdoor rescue and deliver event far to the west in Knuteson's home town of Dallas Texas. They killed and wounded hundreds then got clean away. Some say these were Knuteson's henchmen killing his own supporters. Human sacrifices to ensure the changes that monster was to bring about. By blaming this horrific tragedy on anti-American government and anti-Christian sentiment, he went to work eliminating all opposition in government and anyone else who were in the least bit critical of him and his administration. millions of people disappeared either murdered or enslaved in labor camps. Similar atrocities were occurring in many other lands. Then the plague came. Millions more died, mostly the poor and elderly. Those who survived were more or less completely subjugated by the Knuteson Administration. The 2048 elections were called off due to a state of emergency. Most of the time Knuteson directed affairs from his summer home outside of Martinsburg, a town he turned into a citadel defended by thousands of American soldiers. Now he turned his attention upon non-Christians. They were at least discriminated against and at worst, disappeared the same millions of others did. after the long rain of 2052 when Knuteson was on the verge of sending troops to San Francisco to quell a cultural revolution, a great cataclysm shook the earth and crippled civilization. Then came a time of terror." Ranger North shuddered a bit, took a swig of whisky and slurred: "That's when the Knutesians came into the Shenandoah."
"Right you are North! The Knutesons, their staff, confidants and a large military force abandoned what little there was left of Washington and made Martinsburg the new capitol of a nation that no longer existed, but soon to be aspired seat of empire. Swiftly Winchester fell under Knuteson's sway and a massive wall was built around that town as well. Within a year King Kyle as he was then being called, sent troops across the mountains on a brutal campaign of pillage and slaughter through the lowlands. From southern Maryland to the gates of Charlottesville they swept until just about all their ammunition for the weapons of that time was spent. Attempting to besiege Charlottesville, his army was beaten back by it's defenders."
"Cheers to the Virginia Militia!" Harlow said while raising a jug. "Even now they defend that old city thrust out on the lowland's edge."
"That defeat marked an end to King Kyle's reign and within a month he died. Some say by his wife's hand. Knuteson's eldest son Richard succeeded him. Not as ruthless as he father, King Richard chose to strengthen the northern Shenandoah, rather than murder and pillage like his father. More forts were built and stone walls went up around the towns of Berryville, Charles Town and Bolivar. Without ammunition old guns became useless and the more ancient style of black powder firearms became popular again. Factories sprung up in most large towns where gunsmiths made thousands."

Irving paused for another drink and to relight his pipe with a burning brand. He gazed long into the campfire and then at those sitting around it. Minutes dragged as they silently waited for the Vice Mayor to continue. O'Neal however wasn't sure if he wanted to hear anymore bloody history of this region and thought about turning in for some much needed sleep until he noticed that Lady Murlina had her lovely eyes upon him. Smoked up and half drunk, this rough life hardened woodland warrior found warming comfort in her mysterious smile and enchanting gaze. Finishing the bottle of brandy he returned her smile.Although Irving noticed this quiet exchange between Murlina and O'Neal, he paid it little mind. More and more he was paying less attention to his soon to be former mistress.

Having himself another swig of liquor, the Vice Mayor went on. "Following King Kyle's death, Richard made his younger brother Conrad commander of the army."
"The monster Conrad." Vanwerden interjected.
"Yes he was." Irving added then continued: "As legend has it, Conrad and his two younger sisters were the spawn of genetic experimentation performed upon their mother. Before becoming president and then king, Kyle Knuteson it was said that Kathryn's womb became barren following a disease her husband brought back from his post across the ocean. A high ranking Washington official's wife, government doctors tested a new treatment upon Kathryn which restored her fertility. Although Conrad along with his two sisters Kaere and Kate were healthy babies, they matured very quickly and stopped aging in their thirteenth year of life. All appeared as if they were in their early twenties and stayed that way for many years. At his death over a hundred years after birth, Conrad still looked to be a young man. Some say it took many lead balls and a decapitating ax blow to end his monstrous life. For all we know his two sisters could still be alive today. While Richard was content with over taxing residents and collecting heavy tolls from traveling merchants passing through the northern valley to fund his building projects, Conrad busied himself with recruiting fighting men from what used to be West Virginia. A giant of a man who possessed uncanny fighting prowess, Conrad Knuteson was admired by his men in almost a godlike manner. He kept back hordes of vengeful lowlanders from crossing over into the valley, but that proved not enough for Conrad as he like his father had an appetite for conquest. He was the apple of his mother's eye while Richard fell further out of favor with her and the other Knutesons. Legend has it that Queen Kathryn made Conrad promise to kill Richard on the day she died so as to be remembered as the mother of a great emperor. As he grew older Richard became more deviant and spent most of his time at Shannondale just across the river where hehad built a pleasure palace for himself. He hosted horse races and huge drunken orgies. He sired over two dozen bastard children. Conrad sired children as well, but with hill women from West Virginia who were of his harem. It was also said that Conrad sired children with his sisters. Some of these were inbred monstrosities that Conrad took far into the woods and abandoned while others were seemingly normal, but like their parents did not age. Whether products of inbreeding or born to West Virginian women, these children along with Conrad and his sisters were the first Knutesians. Pale and of flame hued hair, they have long been a blight upon the Appalachians.
When Kathryn finally passed, Conrad held true to his promise and strangled Richard. He also had all of his older brother's children killed as well. No one was left to contest the throne. Now the time had come for Conrad to expand his domain. In 2082, he at the head of his army set out to conquer as much land as possible. Within a decade Conrad ruled from Altoona and Harrisburg way up north in Pennsylvania down to Staunton and Waynesboro in the south. Hundreds of miles and a score of big towns, but one prize eluded him."

"Charlottesville!" Harlow cheered again with a raised jug. Snatching it from the Ranger Captain's hand, Irving emptied it's remaining contents down his gullet and called for another.

Uncorking a new jug, Irving took another swig then went on with his tale.
"For three months Conrad besieged the old city. Out numbered seven to one, the defenders kept these invaders out of their walls. It seemed they had enough ammunition for their old many shot firearms to even the odds and on the day they ran out of bullets, these invaders departed. Lucky for the defenders, Conrad had received some news and left to quell a revolt up in Pennsylvania. Before Conrad left Charlottesville, he vowed to return and finish the job. A few years later he returned, but not before losing both all conquered land above the Potomac and a third of his army up in the Alleghenies. Now he yearned for the legendary riches of Charlottesville as means for building his army up to take back what he had lost. Lacking manpower for an all out siege, he had Charlottesville surrounded and attempted to starve it's defenders into surrendering. Having been besieged by Kyle, Conrad and lowland armies in the past, Charlottesville was well provisioned with food and black powder weaponry. Cannon fire kept the invaders at a good distance. From summer to spring the defenders held out until a combined force from Lexington, Lynchburg and Roanoke came to their relief. It was said that Conrad shook with rage as he retreated knowing that this defeat dashed his aspirations of empire. within five years, Conrad and his people were driven out of the Shenandoah Valley. Fleeing deep into West Virginia, he and his army became little more than a horde of murderous brigands. Forever young, Conrad watched his non-Knutesian officers grow old and die. Their sons proved less qualified and many were killed or else deserted. Unable to hold on to his new capitol at Beckley, he fortified Bluefield and Tazewell. In that area Conrad built up a sizable fighting force large enough to take Princeton and force Wytheville to surrender without a fight. Now determined to take the New River Valley, Conrad's army was promptly annihilated by a coalition force from the very valley he was about to invade. Later on his hundred and eleventh birthday, Conrad and his small band of ragtag robbers who had been waylaying travelers were tracked down near Tazewell and killed by men raised by Malcolm of Craig."

Pausing again to swig liquor and relight his pipe, Irving then got up to relieve himself with several others who had held themselves until now.

Fully relieved and now slightly staggering, Irving returned to his place at the fire and awaited others. Once they returned from the brush, he started to continue but was interrupted by Harlow, who knew something about Conrad Knuteson's demise. "Ahhh the great ancestor of Donald" Harlow slurred, adding: "As legend has it, Malcolm's younger brother Art, his sweetheart and a couple of cousins were set upon then robbed by Conrad and about a dozen of his highwaymen, all that remained of his once great army. Beside the Middle Fork of the Holston River after a day of trading in Marion, they bushwhacked Art's party. The young woman was spared death, but was brutally violated by Conrad and a few of his men. As these brigands slept off a drunk in the woods, she slipped her bonds, made off with a horse and escaped. Back in New Castle, seat of the Craigs, She informed Malcolm of what horribly transpired, but added how valiantly the lads fought as they slew two and wounded two more before they fell. Taking twenty men with him, Malcolm of Craig rode southwest to avenge his kin. Spending three days tracking these brigands from where his brother was killed, Malcolm found Conrad's camp in the Rich Valley beside the North Fork of the Holston River. Eight balls struck Conrad, but he still came on dealing death to two Craigs before Malcolm struck off his head with an ax stroke. He later had King Conrad's skull made into a silver lined drinking cup with a handle adorned with strands of his flame red hair. The two brigands who survived were taken back to New Castle where they danced upon a gibbet for all to see. After that Malcolm of Craig formed the first company of Appalachian Rangers to patrol and defend the area. Later other Ranger companies were raised. In time he would be elected Mayor of Roanoke, an office mostly held by his descendants for over two hundred years."
"And we can thank Captain O'Neal here and some of his Rangers here tonight for not only saving the life of Donald downstream on the James River,but later assisting him in becoming the Mayor of Star City."

All eyes were now upon Captain O'Neal in anticipation of an account regarding that hot summer day a decade ago. O'Neal, one who never went overly on about past battles, especially when reveling, took a swig out of the whisky jug, cleared his throat and regarded all around the captain's fire with a slit eyed glare as most of them knew he would be put off a bit about having to recount what occurred on that day. O'Neal would make it as brief as possible. "It was a prisoner exchange that went bad about a mile or so south of the James below Tapscott station,"
"And what a fucked up mess that was!" Dolan interrupted, having been present during that fight. "Who's telling this story, Dolan?" O'Neal growled. "With no further interruptions, I'll go on. It was our turn to cross the river into lowland territory and we had in our possession a good bargaining prize that could be traded for two farm families captured earlier at Bigley Spring. It just so happened a week before this particular exchange, we thwarted a lowland raiding party led by a wayward prince out of Bone City, a lowland stronghold some fifty miles southwest of the James. He and his party of a hundred or so had aspirations of raiding beyond the north bank until we surprised them outside of Norwood Station. half of them went down with our first volley. Most of the other half were shot down as they attempted crossing the river, but hiding in a thicket we found Prince Smoothel and two of his friends. In fact he swiftly told us he was a prince to keep from being dispatched on the spot. As agreed upon by use of messengers, no more than fifty of us would deliver our prisoners in exchange for the two families. We crossed the river at Bloody Ford, a site of many fierce fights and continued a mile or so to the lowland camp. Once there we found ourselves swiftly surrounded by two hundred or so lowland devils led by another prince of Bone City, Ballah the Bone Crusher. With him, but off to the distance, were prisoners, but not the two families we expected to get. Ballah not only wanted his brother back in trade, but our horses and guns as well. Of course I told Ballah fuck no and went on to remind him that he was suppose to have an equal number of his men present for this exchange. Just as Prince Ballah raised a hand to signal attack, I put a pistol ball through his brains then tomahawked Smoothel as well for good measure. There was a few seconds of uneasy stillness then all hell broke loose. Ten of us were killed fighting our way out of that lowland camp and another ten were shot off their mounts in a running fight back to Bloody Ford. Securing our mounts behind a hillock, we then took positions behind trees and waited after sending two riders for reinforcements. It wasn't long before around a hundred lowlanders attempted to cross and take us. We dropped a good many of them in the shallows and sent the rest in retreat. We waited for them to return and return they did behind one of their prisoners we had seen at their camp, a golden haired lad pursued by over a hundred of those blood mad devils. Somehow he had managed to grab Ballah's mount and broke free thus making across the river a head of his pursuers who did not. We killed over thirty more of them before they took flight again after seeing more Rangers arriving on the scene. The young man who escaped told us his name was Donald Craig and had been captured by these lowlanders two years earlier in the disputed territory a few miles east of Altavista."

Having heard O'Neal's brief account, Irving added: "Young Donald, son of Ian of Craig, Mayor of Roanoke. Both Ian, his wife and Donald's siblings all dying mysteriously one night. Later Art McCallister Vice Mayor of Roanoke, whom was said to be a descendant of Art of Craig's violated sweetheart, brought trumped up evidence that had young Donald the poisoner of his family. He based this lie upon the fact that Donald and Ian previously had a terrible argument about sending the young Craig to join a Ranger company up near Clifton Forge. Ian thought the lad needed toughening as he was spending far too much time concerned about his looks and the young ladies of Roanoke. During the argument it was said that Ian struck Donald only to have the lad strike him back and informed him that he wasn't going to be Mayor as well as alive forever and then angrily rode off cursing his father's name. McCallister even coerced some witnesses to enhance what had actually occurred. The lowlanders caught the lad hiding in the disputed territory and enslaved him. After his escape at Bloody Ford, Donald stayed with the Rangers for a few years under an assumed name before raising an army then taking revenge upon McCallister whom the residents of Star City saw as a greedy and ruthless tyrant. Clearing his name, Donald was sworn in as Mayor."

"And now he is engaged to a Knutesian." Dolan reminded them.
"Rumored to be." Irving chuckled.

By the scowl upon O'Neal's face it was evident this conversation was unsettling to him as he and Donald had been extremely close friends. It was O'Neal and Harlow who assisted in taking Roanoke. Now he and the others had the sinking feeling that Donald was no longer so virtuous. O'Neal felt Donald had forgotten his oath to keep the area safe from other monsters like Conrad Knuteson and Art McCallister. Handing Irving the jug, O'Neal said: "Good people gone bad. It's as evident as the smell of liquor around this fire. Why else would Donald deploy those dogs, who by the way stank of the filth west of Walker Mountain to monitor us and dictate his will upon the free Rangers? If it wasn't for us he would of been maggot food laying in the shallows of Bloody Ford.Hell we even helped put his now ungrateful ass in office!"

With that Captain O'Neal ambled off to get some much needed sleep..

[Atehequa]

Even while glaring, those amber eyes were strangely beautiful. Her lovely face mottled with freckling now had an angry rose hued tint. Although livid with rage, she remained quietly by Donald's side upon a wide porch outside of the Mayor's Grand Hall. Standing below them was a towheaded dragoon. Covered with dust from hard riding, the fellows eyes darted about nervously as he informed Mayor Craig and Lady Katrina that Ranger Captain John O'Neal's party had gave his company the slip in the town of Blue Ridge. What he didn't tell the Mayor was how they did it. Instead he blamed it upon the Inn's owner for assisting them and mentioned that Vice Mayor Irving used magical powers to call in a blinding fog. "Don't you fret a bit Mayor, Major Jones is trailing them as we speak."
"And just where did you leave your company, man?" Donald demanded.
"Near a place called Natural Bridge" With those words Donald stepped off the porch and halted mere inches from the dragoon's face. Towering over the man he growled: "Just how does several men slowed down by a mule cart give my dragoons the slip? Get you a fresh mount and return to your company, dragoon. That is if you can find your way back. Tell that buffoon Major of yours to make for the Southern Allegheny Highway and head north. You are not to make contact! I want you to follow them and send me back reports. You got that?"
The dragoon assured Donald he did. The Mayor smiled and softly said: "Good and by the way, if you guys fuck up again, I'll have all of your company sent back sent back to Tazewell in boxes." The dragoon sneered and saluted Donald of Craig then he was off.

Watching the dragoon hurry away Lady Katrina spoke in a mocking manner while whipping her long wavy auburn hair about. "Well yesterday you found out that Ranger rabble ignored your request to disband their volunteers and go patrol the James River. Tell me sweetheart, what makes you think anything other than this Ranger O'Neal has already joined up with the rest of that rabble on their way to cause trouble with our friends up north? Those ruffians should be stopped and detained before they attempt to mar the great peace we are striving to bring about." Not giving him a chance to reply, Katrina walked back into the great hall. "Perhaps you need to alleviate this problem" was her parting words before shutting the door. Staring at the ground he could not very well send an army after O'Neal, Harlow, Irving and the others, but this what it seemed Katrina was getting at. Just when he started to have doubts again about marrying Katrina the door opened again and there she stood without a stitch of clothing on motioning for him to come in with both her index fingers.


In the shadow of Back Creek Mountain they made camp.Horses, mules and oxen had been well watered in the shallow clear cold flow of the Jackson River. Now these animals munched upon dried corn and oats, or else grazed upon patches of riverbank grass. Some men were tending the hundred or so cooking fires while others went about performing other camp tasks as the sun sank behind the ridge. Some thirty hunters armed with bows had went out to bag deer, rabbit, wild turkey or whatever fresh meat they could find. Ahead of them stood a picket line. Although the Rangers felt more at ease this far north of Roanoke and west of the Shenandoah Valley, such precautions were taken. There were men posted a mile south as well. Standing upon a grassy rise the two Ranger Captains looked down at this fighting force which had increased by nearly five hundred volunteers and forty Rangers. These men joined as the army passed through Clifton Forge, Covington and the lower Jackson River Valley. Harlow seemed more confident that no one would trouble them, but O'Neal as always when going to war appeared wary. His grey eyes periodically scanned their surroundings for any sign of unwanted encroachment. He halfway expected a large force up from Roanoke or east from the Shenandoah Valley to come and order they disband. O'Neal knew if that occurred a conflict would ensue. Gathered here were free farmers, hunters, trappers, townsmen and Rangers who had no desire to live under a despot's heavy hand. They knew talk of this great peace was a lie that would not lure them into oppression. Many of them had heard tales about the Knutesians and wanted none of these devils directing their affairs. O'Neal had serious doubts of a peaceful conclusion once they entered the northern Shenandoah Valley. Noticing O'Neal's uneasiness, Harlow suggested that he and Irving who was already half drunk accompany him to review their comrades at ease. Calling down to Murlina who was bathing in the river, he informed her they would be stepping away for a short while. Rising from the waters wearing not but wet white cotton shift and a smile she replied: "See you whenever Mr. Vice Mayor"

They walked by the many fires of their volunteer allies. These for the most part were healthy men ranging in age from late teens to their forties either drinking or gnawing on beef jerky and hard corn cakes. O'Neal was quite taken with their jolly demeanor while knowing in the not so distant future some of them would die or end up maimed once the fighting broke out. Most were armed like the Rangers with rifles, pistols, axes and knives. About a hundred of them from near Bolar Mountain on the lower Jackson carried powerful recurve bows, quivers of black arrows and an array of deadly sharp edged weapons. Like the Indians who once roamed these mountains over six centuries ago, they wore their hair in long scalp locks adorned with dyed deer hair roaches and feathers. From their ears hung silver rings and short strands of beads. Buckskin hunting shirts, leggings and moccasins only added to their savage appearance. A hundred savage warriors yet their only sounds were low conversation and the whetting of steel. Their chief raised his hand in salute as the Ranger Captains strolled by. Near the camp of these warriors were the fires of Jerome, Mayor of Marlinton. His fighting men carried rifles and pistols and wore light chain mail under their shirts. After fire arms were discharged these men would advance with lances and saber-like hunting swords. Jerome was off hunting, but his second in command while tipping a plume adorned broad rimmed hat issued a friendly greeting. A chorus of hearty greetings welcomed the three men as they entered the camp of their fellow rangers now numbering over six hundred strong. These men were the vanguard and could be counted upon not to leave the fray until so ordered. Although some of the younger ones had never fought in any big battles, they were well trained by the seasoned veterans. All possessed uncanny woodcraft which was part of their constant training. Even though they greatly admired their two captains, these Rangers held Irving in the highest esteem. A living legend, he honored them by accepting a few swigs out of one of their jugs. Irving mingled with as many Rangers as he could, patting backs and expressing his appreciation for their unselfish service. Before departing their camp he roared: "I will be with you men after having a look see in the northern valley! I will stand with you in arms, if it comes to a fight!"

With that said Harlow, O'Neal and Irving headed back up to the Captain's camp.

Upon their return they found the Lady Murlina entertaining Jerome of Marlinton and a fellow hunter who had brought the captains a doe's hindquarter already dressed and ready for roasting. Somewhat of a fop, Jerome wore a well tailored buckskin hunting shirt that was dyed to a saffron hue and adorned with silver bead work. His green trousers were tucked into a pair of fine bull hide boots. Never wearing a hat, Jerome was rather proud of his long wavy mane of golden brown hair. It was said that Jerome once ran a fellow from Richwood through for yanking his hair and calling him sweetheart. Like Irving, Jerome wore a smallsword on his hip, but his had a very ornate hilt and jeweled pommel. The glint of highly polished chain mail was visible beneath his open collar. His rifle stock was inlaid with silver rutting bucks locking antlers. Into his scarlet fine woolen sash were tucked a long barreled pistol and sheathed antler handled hunting knife.
The three captains had known Jerome for years and sometimes stayed at his Marlinton house on the Greenbrier River. Aside from his foppishness Jerome was an excellent hunter and proficient fighting man.

"Ahhh Jerome, welcome and our thanks to you good sir." Irving greeted with a handshake. Harlow however circled around Jerome and chuckled: "All that flash is going to attract a sniper's bullet one day."
"Or some northern Shenandoah gal." O'Neal added then embraced the Mayor of Marlinton in a bear hug. Jerome drained a cup of brandy and dryly stated: "I seriously doubt there's a northern Shenandoah marksman that could hit me from more than ten feet away, maybe their women have good aim and better taste."
"Well hopefully practical reasoning enhanced by a show of force will see us all home unscathed soon." Irving said while refilling Jerome's cup.
"What is our strength now and what will it be once we join our friends in the central valley?" Jerome asked as he looked out over the encampment.
"Our numbers now stand around fourteen hundred, but we hope to recruit several hundred more before entering the Shenandoah Valley. Hopefully Captains Guenette and Kirby will be waiting at Chimney Rock with at least five thousand or more." Harlow returned while proudly viewing all the campfires below. "Then there are the Cacapon people and all other dissidents up in the surrounding area." O'Neal reminded them, adding: "Too bad Donald of Craig is not sending us assistance."
"Fuck Donald! We better hope he ain't sending assistance to our adversaries up north." Captain Harlow spat. At that Irving laughed and proclaimed: "Out numbered five to one we have beat the odds before. One Ranger is worth ten or more of those soft handed northern Shenandoah chicken chokers." Jerome helped himself to another cup of brandy and passed the bottle to Irving with a bit of unsettling news. "On the same day, right after your dispatch rider left Marlinton, a traveling trader from Maryland entered town with a bit of a troubling tale."

All eyes were upon Jerome as he quaffed down his brandy. These men of Marlinton joined with the Rangers today and had not the chance to discuss the situation at hand. Clearing his throat, he went on to say: "This trader of garments, gewgaws, buttons, bells and other trinkets told us he had attempted to sale his wares in the northern Shenandoah, but was so overly taxed and tolled by what he called brigands in uniforms. He said his stock was depleted by half and if it weren't for a special orders to be delivered at Marlinton, Covington and Roanoke, he would of turned back and crossed the Potomac. This Marylander spoke of seeing a huge mounted force which by his estimation numbered ten thousand. He also spoke of lowland mercenaries."
"Lowland mercenaries? This is indeed treachery!" O'Neal growled. "They are the enemies of all Appalachians!"
"Apparently not anymore." Irving grimly said.
"To hell with any diplomatic endeavors. They are in clear violation of common law. We should ride right in and handle affairs" O'Neal stated while tapping the butt of his pistol.
"Not so quick, my friend." Irving laughed, then said in a more serious tone: "With a letter from Donald of Craig and as representatives of Roanoke, several of us should be safe long enough to get a good look at what's going on, then shag ass back to our comrades who will then be stationed nearby at Lost River. And by the way, you do know that former Ranger Captain David Light is now General Light with the Army of the Northern Shenandoah?"
O'Neal shook his head and laughed: "Light? Why I saved that idiot's life twice at the battle of Thorton Gap. I'll never know how Light made Ranger Captain, much less a General as he seemed more talk than action. If word has got to him of our force, we could tell him that men were raised to assist him."
"Like that's going to quell suspicion." Harlow chuckled, then added: "You're playing with your lives by entering the northern valley and snooping around. Sure after a week we all will come riding in, but that may be too late for your diplomatic party's hides."
"Have faith, Captain Harlow!" Irving laughed.
"Have faith? is that the same kind of faith you told me to have?" Murlina inquired rather coolly. Rising from her seat and grabbing a bottle of brandy, she stormed off downhill to the river.
"What's with her?" Harlow wanted to know. Irving gulped down another cup and replied: "She use to ask when I was going to divorce my wife and marry her."
"Seems like a reasonable question for a married man's mistress to ask." O'Neal stated while watching the young woman vanish into the thickening gloom. Irving, uncorking a jug of whisky suggested: "You marry Murlina then, that is if you have the time to be romantically involved with the marrying type, I'll just come by and visit your little love nest, while you're at work." Irving laughed before taking a big swig. Although meant in jest, Captain O'Neal thought Irving's words were in bad taste. Also with the coming of night, this wilderness was no place for a young woman alone, especially one with issues and a bottle of brandy. For this reason alone, O'Neal now drank sparingly.

Irving continued to quaff liquor until passing out on the grassy ground. Vanwerden was kind enough to cover the snoring Vice Mayor with a blanket. Now it was night, but the full moon and millions of stars lent enough light for some visibility. From the slopes of Back Creek Mountain came the howls of wild dogs. Casting a glance down at the river, O'Neal said: "Perhaps I should check on the Lady Murlina, she's been away for some time now."
"Oh she'll be alright, but if you just want to see her, go ahead, but you'll have to contend with Irving come morning." O'Neal regarded the Ranger with a snarl, rose from the ground, grabbed his rifle, pistols, powder horn, shot pouch and tomahawk then ambled downhill. Although his original intent was to check on Murlina and escort her back, Vanwerden's remark had him thinking about this women in other ways aside from safety concerns. Why should he worry about contending with Irving come morning? After all he was more or less getting rid of her. O'Neal found Murlina to be extremely attractive and interesting.

Entering the riverside woods where he saw Murlina disappear into, O'Neal slunk along a narrow deer trail like a man born to the wilderness. The moonlight, finding it's way through the leafy tree branches illuminated small patches of ground into pale rosettes lending to the eerie atmosphere of this riverside wood. The Ranger heard a low growl head and cocked his rifle trigger then stealthily advanced. Entering a clearing where two small streams flowed into the river, O'Neal stopped dead in his tracks and for several long seconds witnessed a strangely frightening scene. In the moonlight he saw Murlinia sitting upon a large rock and mutely staring into the eyes of death. Crouched not ten feet away from her was a huge cat, obviously one of the hybrids that descended from animals the Americans once kept in places they called zoos. This creature with it's back to him was like none he had saw before. In the moonlight O'Neal couldn't make out it's color, but clearly noticed it's pale rosettes, mane and long ear tufts. During those seconds O'Neal looked again at Murlina, who seemed to be entranced. Raising his rifle he fired. Through the gun smoke he saw the great cat bound upwards, land clumsily upon it's paws then turned to issue a heart stopping scream, before swiftly limping off into thick undergrowth. O'Neal drew a pistol and waited. What had shook his nerves was the creature's balefully glowing eyes. Hearing no sound he hoped the cat went off somewhere to die. Never a hunter of non-game animals, this was the first big cat O'Neal had ever shot.

As for Murlina, both shot and scream had broken her trance. At first there was a look of anguish on her face, but after seeing O'Neal she wailed: "I thought it was eating me, body and soul!" She slid off the rock into O'Neal's arms and was trembling like a newborn fawn. "I was sitting there drinking brandy and started hearing a woman softly singing. When that stopped I saw that beast. I don't know what happened after that until you shot it."

Releasing Murlina, O'Neal reloaded his rifle and silently scanned their surroundings.

"Eating you body and soul?" O'Neal asked as he took Murlina by the hand and began to lead her out of the woods. "Well for our own sake let's hope the bears, possums and buzzards will be eating that critter ere soon." Still he feared the wounded beast's vengeful attack. Stepping out of the woods they were met by Harlow, Jerome, Vanwerden and about twenty other Rangers all responding to O'Neal's shot.

Safely back at the captain's fire both Murlina and O'Neal took to the whisky while Harlow pressed them for a more descriptive account of what occurred. "It all happened so quick." O'Neal gasped just after a huge swig of the fiery liquor. He then went into great detail describing the big cat.
"Never heard of anything like that." Jerome said and then spoke of prides of lions in the mountains northwest of Marlinton. Harlow mentioned tigers, jaguars and cougars, but O'Neal shook his head. "Sounds to me like a giant bobcat." Vanwerden stated, adding: "Maybe come daylight we can find it's carcass, that is if the bears haven't dragged it off."
"Did you boys hear that critter scream?" O'Neal asked, still having that awful sound slightly ringing in his ears. "We hear Murlina scream." Harlow replied while casting a concerned glance at his fellow captain.
"Oh that wasn't Murlina."
"Sure sounded like a woman's scream." Vanwerden returned. Although the whisky and pipe smoke gradually calmed O'Neal, Murlina seemed blissfully happy as if the incident never occurred, but stuck close to the Ranger Captain who just saved her life. The more he drank, O'Neal wanted to take this beautiful young woman for a walk and find a private place where he could smother her with kisses, but thought better of it. Then rather unexpectedly Harlow, Jerome and Vanwerden decided to find Ranger North who was suppose to be drinking with the New River Valley volunteers. When asked if he was coming along, O'Neal mumbled something about staying at the fire and keeping a watch over Murlina and the sleeping Vice Mayor of Bedford.

"So what's the story with you, John O'Neal?" Murlina inquired as they both sat upon the grass a short distance below the captain's camp. "Do you have a woman somewhere?" Turning his gaze from the many blazing campfires, O'Neal looked at her and replied: "Only a few lady friends, but nothing so serious to have me retiring from ranging the high trails like Irving up there."
"But what about when you get older or lame like Irving?" Murlina asked, adding: "You have no home, wife or means to fall back on like Irving. You do realized how he became the Vice Mayor of Bedford?"
"Of course I do." O'Neal chuckled. "By marrying the mayor. His wife comes from a long line of Bedford mayors. When he married I thought the old rounder would finally settle down into domestic bliss, but no more a month after their honeymoon, I found him in a Buena Vista tavern with a wench on his knee. Irving has always had a way with the ladies, especially after retiring from the Rangers, but now it seems he's taking his responsibility as Vice Mayor and diplomat a bit more seriously."
"By staying drunk most of the time?"
"I'll not speak too ill of him, Lady Murlina as he has been like a father to me."
"A father who takes his son drinking and whoring at places like Natural Bridge?" O'Neal, about half drunk himself laughed and replied: "It's usually me taking him drinking and whoring."
"And how does a Ranger afford the taverns and whores of Natural Bridge?" O'Neal a little too intoxicated to hold his tongue spoke of spoils of battles and the looting of the lowland city of Orange now known as Victorio named after a lowland prince who once dominated much of the Piedmont area northeast of Charlottesville. "Following Victorio's failed siege of Charlottesville and his assassination, two thousand of us Rangers and three times many more Virginia Militiamen rode down into the Piedmont slaughtering lowland warriors and burning their outposts. After a lone Ranger boldly rode into Orange, killed Victorio and escaped harm, we decided to besiege this lowland city. For some time Orange had served as a base for lowlander raids into the highlands. Upon their surrender we learned that Victorio's brother, Prince Jesus and his court had slipped out of the city that previous night. Taking some fifty Rangers with me, I followed their trail. We found Jesus, but instead of several courtiers with him, there were at least two hundred lowland fighters. A savage battle ensued where we killed all of them, but not before they killed most of us. Four of us survived that battle, but one died later of his wounds. Among the dead lowlanders we found several pack horses loaded down with gold and silver. No doubt booty that Victorio had acquired."
"And you divided that up even with the militia and other Rangers?"
"Hell no. Half of it we split three ways. After all it was we who survived that bloody fight who well deserved it."
"What about the other half of the loot?"
O'Neal turned his gaze back at the many campfires and replied: "That was given to the families of those Rangers I led into an ambush while tracking down Jesus."
"And you spent your share on drinking and whores?"
"Only a fraction, the rest is stashed away."
"Where?" Murlina asked. O'Neal laughed and told her she asked too many questions. He also informed her: "Never know, it may provide a big nest egg if I ever decide to settle down with a decent woman." Scooting over next to Murlina, he kissed her cheek then they walked back up to the Captain's camp.

At sunrise Harlow, Jerome, North, Vanwerden, Custalow along with O'Neal walked down to where he shot the great cat. They found bloody paw prints on the deer trail leading down to the bank. "I'll be damned." Custalow said as he bent down to inspect a large flat riverside rock. The others gathered around it as well. "By the balls of the Great Antlered One!" Jerome swore. "A bloody human footprint!"
"It's a woman's." Custalow informed them. Jerome dabbed his finger into the drying gore. "The way it's facing, whoever left it stepped into the river as the trail ends here." Jerome stated the obvious.

"Speak no more of it!" O'Neal growled. "Keep this to yourselves as it could trouble morale among the volunteers."

Heading back, they had a quiet breakfast, broke camp and continued northwards...

[Atehequa]

"Slaughter enough steers as well as fattened hogs to feed these men and roll out enough barrels of spirits to refresh them!" Gary Tate, Mayor of Lost City and proprietor of the Lost River Inn was extremely happy to have these five thousand fighting men as guests. Although the army had it's own supply train of oxen pulled wagons, this first night's feast was on Mayor Tate even it would thin out his massive herd considerably and all but deplete the Inn's huge stock of liquor. A rather portly man of medium height and close cropped graying hair, attired in his green robe of office, he beamed with joy. From what the four Ranger captains gathered upon arriving, the Lost River Valley had recently been visited by emissaries out of Winchester.

"Four days ago a large troop of cavalry led by General Light rode in. While serving this fellow and his officers some of my finest wine, which by the way they neglected to pay me for, he suggested that I seriously consider an offer to bring Lost River Valley under the army of Northern Shenandoah's protection and guidance. General Light gave us three weeks to decide to make this an easy transition. Claiming to have business in Bryce, he and his men rode off, but not before relieving me of five cases of my best wine." Tate informed the captains while they made camp. Small wonder why General Light and his shadowy associate Lord Crotalus of Martinsburg desired control of the rich Lost River Valley with it's abundant livestock, fertile fields, orchards, vineyards and cool clean water. With the arrival of this sizable fighting force, Mayor Tate had hope of keeping the Lost River Valley free from tyranny.

Mayor Tate had a huge pinewood table and twelve chairs brought to the captain's camp so as to sit with the leaders who would give his valley salvation. Although the mood appeared festive, there seemed to be a sense of great disappointment among the four captains and volunteer leaders. Harlow and O'Neal had expectations of joining at least five thousand central Shenandoah Valley fighting men at Chimney Rock, they only found three thousand waiting for them there instead. Central valley Captains Guenette and Kirby had expected more then the two thousand fighting men from the south. They were disappointed not to see at least two or three thousand Star City Dragoons along with artillery accompanying Harlow and O'Neal's force."This is all we could muster in a short time and Donald of Craig refuses to give us assistance." Harlow informed the central valley captains. Kirby then explained that Captain Rigley of Orkney Springs had proclaimed his agreement with Harrisionburg, Staunton as well as Roanoke to keep out of any acts of aggression directed at the northern Shenandoah Valley. "Why that traitorous little piece of shit!" O'Neal growled, "Never would of figured a Ranger Captain siding against his comrades."
"What about Dave Light?" Irving asked. "He was also a Ranger Captain once."

All four captains had expected more volunteers from the heavily populated central valley, but only a little more than two thousand could be mustered. "A good many of them are afraid to go against such a powerful northern neighbor." Captain Guenette stated. A tall well built raven haired woman from Fort Valley inside Massanutten Mountain, she was one of the several female Appalachian Ranger captains. Clad pretty much like others of the same rank, Anne Guenette wore a green beret adorned with a silver button from her dead husband's coat. O'Neal had heard the story how Captain Henry Guenette was slain at the Battle of Swift Run Gap by lowland warriors and Anne avenged his death by crossing the ridge by herself in the guise of a pleasure girl and rode into Orange where she killed Prince Victorio and barely escaped with her life. After Anne joined her husband's Ranger company,she was swiftly elevated to the rank of captain. Upon her left hip she wore an antler handle hanger in a leather scabbard and a long barreled dragoon pistol thrust in a wide silver buckled belt. Black Anne as she was called was no woman to be trifled with. O'Neal had heard how she lopped off the head of a ranking lowland warrior during a parley just for leering at her and making a crude comment about a woman's place.

Captain Matt Kirby was around Irving's age and almost as famous. At Swift Run Gap he and Henry Guenette with only four hundred Rangers held off thousands of lowlanders until reinforcements arrived. Some five years ago while hunting near North Fork Mountain west of the upper Potomac River he killed an ogre that had been terrorizing hunters and travelers for generations. Losing an eye in that fight, he was now known as one eyed Matt the ogre killer. Captain Kirby informed the others present that this upcoming campaign would be his last. "I'm retiring to live out my days with a loving wife, children and grandchildren."
"That will kill you quicker than a Ranger's life up on the trails." Irving laughed then requested that Kirby tell how he killed a mountain ogre. "Oh not again!" Captain Guenette protested. "I've heard that story told over a dozen times now and the ogre gets bigger with every telling."
"Alright, alright." Kirby chuckled, "I'll give an accurate account of what really happened that morning."
"Then by all means proceed, Captain." Irving said while lighting his pipe.

"A little over five years ago I was tracking a lung shot buck between Cave and North Fork Mountains. It's blood trail was easy enough to be seen, but moving over slopes and through the thick brush proved extremely difficult. I kept thinking damn, this old buck is taking his sweet time dying. I must of tracked it for over a mile down the slopes of Cave Mountain into a thickly wooded hollow. Finally by a stream I found it laying dead, but not by my shooting alone. It's throat was torn out. My first thought was a big cat, or maybe a huge wild dog.Figuring that old buck was not worth my life, I decided to depart this gloomy area with all haste, but as I turned to leave, a terrible crashing came towards me through the underbrush. I took to my heels running as fast as an old man can move through the brush. As the crashing grew closer, I looked for a place to make a stand. Several dozen yards downstream I found that place, a small clearing. Before I could turn an take proper aim something grabbed my head as if it were an apple. I remember feeling my eye getting ripped open by a nail or claw and being spun around like a rag doll, rifle flying out of my hand in the process. Whatever it was, it held me aloft by my head. Finally being able to focus with my remaining eye, I looked upon a horror." Kirby, not a drinking man, sipped a bit of apple cider and continued: "The first thing I saw was it's slanted yellow eyes. Monstrously evil, they seemed to be looking into my very soul. It's huge teeth were bared in a most sinister smile. The critter had to be around ten feet tall and bigger than two full grown boar black bears, but it was sparsely covered with reddish hair growing out of hide that was the color of my ancient ivory snuffbox. As it lifted me level with it's hideous face, the critter's mouth opened as if it was either going tear my throat out, or bite off my head. It was then I regained my senses, pulled a pistol and shot the monster in it's mouth while my other hand thrust a hunting knife into it's broad chest. The ogre dropped me and fell backwards into the stream. The weirdest thing was it's deep purple blood flowing out into the water. I dared not clean my injured eye downstream from where the beast lay. I was lucky just losing an eye having heard about another such ogre ripping three hunters apart before their companions finished the beast off with five more shots to it's misshapen head."
"That's more like it." Captain Guenette told Kirby while patting his shoulder. "The last time you told that story, the ogre was thirty feet tall and as big as six bears." Irving drained a cup of whisky and stated: "These ogres are said to be the incestuous offspring of Conrad Knuteson and his two sisters. Monstrous and having extremely long lifespans just like their sire and mothers."

Having heard such a tale, some of the revelers looked at the surrounding dark wooded ridges, no doubt thinking of these horrible man-beasts. However their train of thought was broken by Captain Guenette announcing:"Riders coming in!" O'Neal rose from his chair to get a better look at the four mounted figures on horseback.
To O'Neal's surprise it was the Lady Murlina and her two escorts along with a Ranger from their their picket line posted at Lower Cove Run Pass. Irving watched them approach with knotted brows and a twisted half grin. "Rangers Custalow and Ferris, I thought you were escorting the Lady Murlina to Bryce!" He shouted as three of them dismounted while the other Ranger saluted and rode back towards his picket line. "Well speak up, Custalow, why have you not performed this simple task so ordered?" Irving demanded. The Mattaponi strode over to their table and helped himself to a swig of whisky then reported: "From Mathias to Basore we saw not a soul, but some sheepherders and their flock, but on the east slope of Great North Mountain we witnessed a scary sight."
"And what was that?" Captain Harlow asked while looking southwards beyond these recent arrivals.

"On that winding road descending the mountain we saw fellow Rangers about to execute five Brycians."
"Rangers?" growled O'Neal.
"Yes Captain they appeared to be Rangers and Captain Rigley was with them."
"Rigley! And how do you know the five people being executed were Brycians? And did they see you watching them?" O'Neal demanded.
"Give the lad a chance to speak, Johnny." Irving nervously laughed. Custalow took another swig of whisky and passed the jug to Ranger Ferris then continued his strange report. "No one saw us as we were a couple of good bends above them looking down. About thirty Rangers and there was no mistaking that sawed off runt Rigley."
"That's Captain Rigley." Vanwerden said.
"Fuck him! I would of shot him if not for our mission and the safety of Lady Murlina. That squirt is no honorable Captain of Rangers as far as I'm concerned. These Rangers were surrounding three men, a teenage boy and a woman all bound in rope and standing in a stream beside the road down to Bryce. Although we could see them well enough, I couldn't clearly hear what they were saying. Telling Ferris to take Lady Murlina back up to the ridge top and wait, I crept down through the brush until I could better see and hear what was going on from a well hidden position."
"And what did you see and hear, Ranger Custalow?" Irving inquired.
"The boy was crying and pleading for his life, while two of the men sought to plead their case, but Rigley had them all gagged while saying how he was now in charge of Bryce and they were in this scrape for spreading ugly rumors about him and what he referred to as good loyal Rangers. He then ordered their throats to be cut and to let them bleed out in the stream. Then he said something about taking their bodies up the mountain for the bears and buzzards. At that time I made way back up to my horse and the ridge top. Coming down the western slope, we hauled ass to Lost River Valley as Bryce no longer seemed a safe option."

"Damned traitor!" Captain Guenette hissed between her teeth. "So what now?" Growled O'Neal not noticing Murlina's eyes upon him. Harlow regarded Guenette and Kirby with his piercing green eyes and grimly said: "This is happening near the central valley, your jurisdiction. I have no objection assisting you two in ridding the world of former Captain Rigley."
Captain Guenette drained a cup of apple brandy, slowly rose from her chair, took a glance southwards and said: "No. Leave them be. It is risky enough for us to be encamped this close to the northern valley upon unsuitable fighting ground. We will continue on with our plan then deal with Rigley and his cutthroats afterwards." On this the other three captains agreed.

"What about me?" Lady Murlina asked, "I cannot very well go back to Bryce as that little asshole has had the hots for me since I was a teenage girl. What's to keep him away now that he's in charge?" It was Gary Tate who replied: "My lady you are quite welcome to stay at the Lost River Inn free of charge of course, until this nasty problem is resolved and all is safe again." This time O'Neal took notice of Murlina's longing gaze, before she mounted and made for the Inn. Needless to say the picket line at Lower Cove Run was increased to a hundred Rangers just in case Rigley and company decided to pay Lost River Valley a visit.

Supper at the Captain's table was for the most part a quiet affair as Rigley's treachery seemed to put a damper upon their usual evening revelry. Black Anne had personally vowed to cut Rigley's throat. Irving gorged with fresh beef proceeded to drink himself into a sodden slumber. Old Captain Kirby was soon to follow. While Guenette and Harlow went over future possible battle scenarios, O'Neal's mind kept drifting back to Lady Murlina, wondering why she did not rejoin him after freshening up at the Inn. Finally he rose and said: "I'm going to check on the northern picket line above the Inn." Snatching up his rifle and other weaponry, he leaped upon an already saddled mare then rode off into the night.

"Yeah I'll just bet he's going to check on the northern picket line." Vanwerden laughed.

Stopped at the Inn's gate, O'Neal stated both name and business to a rather rotund watchman. "Captain John O'Neal of the Appalachian Rangers to see Lady Murlina of Bryce." Riding across a well manicured lawn and by flower gardens, he halted, leaned down and plucked a rose. Hitching his mount to a post, he entered the Inn and was told by a desk clerk that Lady Murlina awaited him in the lounge. O'Neal spotted her in the somewhat crowded lounge before she caught sight of him. Sitting at a small table sipping wine, she was a vision of beauty, now clad in an thin white courtesy robe provided by the Inn. coming up from behind, he gently tapped her well rounded shoulder. When she turned about he presented her with the rose. "I've been waiting here for hours expecting to see you." Murlina slightly slurred. Evidently she had already consumed a good amount of wine. O'Neal laughed: "And what gave you an inclination I was coming here to visit?"
"Are you a fool to ask such a question." She returned with a smile while gesturing for him to be seated at her candle lit table. In his somber hued buckskins and armed to the teeth, O'Neal cut an imposing figure here at the Lost River Inn's lounge. Wealthy Lost River Valley residents as well as folks vacationing here alike gawked at O'Neal while whispering comments. The Ranger Captain paid them no mind as he gazed at the beautiful young woman sitting across from him. Never much of a wine drinker, O'Neal ordered another bottle for Murlina and a huge tankard of ale for himself. Murlina told him how much she adored this area and hinted it would make a good location for a honeymoon. She then inquired about Vice Mayor Irving. "He's back at the encampment passed out drunk."
"Damned old fool is going to drink himself to death. I really once loved him, but kind of knew all along I was just another one of his play pretty diversions.He was looking for an opportunity to get rid of me, then you came along " She stated. At that O'Neal gulped down half of the ale and leaned in for a kiss, but to his disappointment Murlina backed away. "Do you think a filched rose and that bottle of wine can win my favor, sir?" She laughed.
"Well I,,,"
"Well you what?" She interrupted with a smile. "What else can you offer me in the way of sweet talk and keep in mind, Captain, I'm not one of those tarts from Natural Bridge." At first O'Neal was lost for words, but then grinned and said: " I can offer you more than a few silver coins, or a drunken night's romp on the riverbank, or even a cottage at the other side of town."
"Why that's as sour as a green apple." She laughed.
"An apple that will ripen red into the sweetest fruit on the tree." He returned noticing her full red lips quivering.
"I've heard you are from a noble line, Captain John O'Neal." She said as he poured her another glass. "I would not say all that noble. My father was a chieftain of the Clan O'Neal at Falling Springs near the lower Jackson River Valley. For ten years he served as a Ranger Captain before taking up a huge tract of dangerous land too far down on the James. I have no lands or chieftain's title."
"That doesn't matter John, as I believe you have something which Irving lacked."
"And what may I ask my Lady is that?"
Raising up a bit and leaning in, her face mere inches from his, she replied:"Genuine amorous regards for me." She whispered before their lips met. At thirty three, John O'Neal had no intentions of settling down until now. He was not overly handsome like Jerome or Vanwerden, but Murlina could not take her eyes off his dark moody face. As they drank together he told her of distant mountain top views, cold clear streams and dark thickly wooded hollows. He also told her she was more beautiful than blossoming rhododendrons. At that she told him it was time for bed and asked to be escorted to her suite. At her door this seemed to be their last kiss until the problem up north was resolved. As he started to turn and amble away, she asked: "Aren't you coming in for a good night's rest on a soft bed instead of sleeping upon the cold hard ground?" At that he smiled and replied: "If you insist, my Lady." Entering the spacious suite, she lit two candles from the fireplace. Her robe slipped from her body and he removed his weapons and buckskins. Murlina cleaned his body with a wet cloth from a large porcelain wash basin and they climbed into bed.

On his short ride back to the Ranger encampment O'Neal thought hard about the promise he made to Murlina - 'I'll come back for you.' and he remembered her words to him - 'May the good goddess watch over and keep you safe until then.' She gave him a silver chain adorned with a single round moonstone bead and they kissed one last time before he rode off.

Back at the encampment Vanwerden issued a catcall at O'Neal, while Irving merely laughed and said: "Gear up my rough knit Romeo, we have diplomatic business to the north." By mid morning O'Neal, Irving and five other Rangers were riding northwards...

[Atehequa]

Seemingly all went well after departing from the Ranger encampment in Lost River Valley, but at the junction of Northwestern Pike they unexpectedly ran into none other than General David Light and some fifty mounted troopers. Light seemed extremely happy to see Captain O'Neal and Irving even stopping under an ancient oak tree for refreshments, no doubt the commandeered wine from Gary Tate's cellars. Light informed O'Neal's party he was on his way to the resort community of Lake Holiday for a party and insisted that the diplomatic party accompany him there.

Upon arriving at this community which used to a Cacapon town, they feasted, reveled and General Light reminisced with O'Neal about his days as an Appalachian Ranger. Captain O'Neal did his best to feign comradery with someone whom he remembered as a buffoon. Their hostess, a young auburn haired woman who was introduced as the Lady Karen of Berryville questioned O'Neal and Irving about their business here in the Northern Shenandoah Valley. Vice Mayor Irving produced his letter from Donald of Craig and told her a half truth. "My Lady, we are here to assist the good people of the Northern Valley against the troubles Mayor Craig was made aware of by messengers from our common close allies in the Southern Valley. The Mayors of Staunton, Harrisionburg and Waynesboro have informed us of troubles." Lady Karen cast General Light a rolling eyed glance then turned to Irving and smiled. "Oh yes those dreadful Cacapon savages have been waylaying citizens and sniping at our brave patrolling troopers.It seems one of their devilish painted shamans has been attempting to sway some of our more seedy and disgruntle residents into rebellious behavior, but it's nothing that David and his courageous soldiery can't handle in their upcoming summer campaign. So any reinforcements from our allies in the south are appreciated, but unnecessary." Her fiery amber eyes shifted to Vanwerden and she said: "My what a handsome young Ranger, you are obviously of good breeding. From where do you hail darling?" Vanwerden gently took her extended hand, kissed it and replied: " My Lady,I'm of an old family of brewers and steatite wood burning stove makers of the Rockfish Valley in the foothills southeast of Waynesboro. I am truly honored to be your guest this evening." O'Neal chuckled under his breath at Vanwerden's hamming it up, but wasn't quite certain that Lady Karen was buying their story. Irving complemented Lady Karen on her villa, knowing this was once the hall of a Cacapon chieftain. "Quite cozy." She stated," and to think it was the hovel of a trespassing squatter. I'm seriously thinking of having this shanty razed to the ground and replacing it with something more suitable to my needs."Winking at Vanwerden, and rolling her tongue over red painted lips, Lady Karen purred: "My bed chamber is much too small for big nights, but the bed has some spring to it." Vanwerden later feigned over intoxication just to avoid a possible romp in that viper's den.

The next morning Irving awoke rather ill and decided to stay at Lake Holiday with Ranger Custalow. While the others toured this region with General Light. First they rode to Winchester which was now a large strongly fortified citadel surrounded by tall outer and inner stone walls. O'Neal took full notice of the many troopers manning those walls and numerous cannon placements. General Light proudly went on about his city proclaiming it to be a symbolic beacon of justice. From there they traveled to Berryville which seemed to be the religious center of this region. Fortified like Winchester, it lacked the massive amount of soldiery and instead of barracks and guard towers, there were temples, palaces, theaters, fountains, gardens, shops, markets and public squares. The dominating factor was a circle of priestesses known as the Morning Star Sisterhood. Here they spent the night and were entertained by actors, music as well as dancers all glorifying the sisterhood and Lord Crotalus. Never once did O'Neal see any of these ruling priestesses. He was glad to be departing from this cloyingly scented city just after sunrise. Riding east they crossed the Shenandoah upon a heavily guarded bridge and entered the riverside community of Shannondale. The many extravagant brightly painted villas and their shiny tile roofs built all over the Blue Ridge's slopes were illuminated by the late morning sun. Richly clad residents went about their daily routines, while all labor was carried out by what looked to be lowland servants or slaves. They tended gardens, swept streets, cleaned windows, lay bricks, dug drainage ditches, drove buggies, coaches, carts and wagons, all under the direction of burly armed overseers. O'Neal even saw a troop light cavalry made up of turbaned lowlanders, however none carried firearms, only lances and sabers. They were led by a small company of troopers uniformed and armed much like General Light's men. Stopping for brunch and refreshments at an outdoor tavern, they were served by scantly clad lowland women. Instead of seeing more of this community, General Light led them back across the bridge and requested that Rangers Ferris and Price, deliver some of Donald's gifts of good faith north to Charles Town. Against O'Neal's better judgment, he agreed and the two Rangers along with a pack mule rode off with ten of Light's troopers. It was rather gut wrenching for O'Neal to see the Ranger's worried expressions before they left. In his mind he attempted to muster up confidence that these men could handle themselves in any situation, but there was the cold realization, they all were in a precarious predicament, like nest bound chicks surrounded by hungry crows and snakes. That feeling intensified when they rode through the massive iron bound gates of Martinsburg. Here the soldiery were clad in scarlet trimmed black uniforms instead of the grey of Light's troopers. Upon their heads were spired helms and they were armed with muskets, pistols and long narrow straight swords. Their commander, a sinister looking brute by the name of Lord Rainse smugly greeted General Light and had a lesser officer show O'Neal, Dolan and Vanwerden to their quarters for the night. On the way there they passed a richly decorated open coach carrying a huge man attired in a black robe and scarlet cape. Riding on either side of this coach were ten brawny guards clad in red tunics and black capes. Their spired helmets looked to be chased in silver and adorned with black plumes. It was the man in the coach that caught O'Neal's attention, especially when the progression came to a halt. A guard dismounted, opened the coach's door and out stepped a giant of a man. Towering over the guardsman, this fellow looked to be seven feet tall or better. His broad face was vaguely inhuman, wide flaring nostrils set above cruel thin lips. The giant's close cropped hair was the color of polished copper and his small ears were slightly pointed, but it was the fellow's eyes that sent a chill down O'Neal's spine, as they were an unnatural pale yellow. Seeing them O'Neal recalled Captain Kirby's ogre tale. He had no doubts this man was a Knutesian. As they rode away O'Neal asked their escort: "Who was that noble looking fellow?"
"That is Lord Crotalus, our divine and benevolent liege."

"Did you see that mutant?" Vanwerden whispered. Even though they were alone in a spacious sitting room of an apartment, the three Rangers kept their voices low. "That my friend looked to be a full blooded Knutesian." O'Neal replied. Then came a knock on the door. Opening up, a shaved head servant was there. After bowing,he handed O'Neal a note. Thanking the servant, O'Neal handed him a silver coin hand closed the door. Unfolding the paper, O'Neal read the message aloud - 'The Lady Karen requests the company of Ranger Vanwerden at her Lake Holiday residence.'
"What?" Laughed Vanwerden, "She desires my company?"
"You must of captured her fancy, pretty boy. It says you are to be escorted by that bald pate messenger to Lake Holiday."
"Hell if I am!" Vanwerden protested.
"Yes go with that fellow and give him the slip near the road back to Lost River Valley. Ride as fast as you can to Harlow and the other captains. Tell them to advance into the mountains west of Winchester. We'll join you once we're able to slip away from this den of rattlesnakes."
"I sincerely hope you two are able." Vanwerden returned then swiftly gathered his gear and letter of passage. Embracing O'Neal and Dolan, Vanwerden departed. Now they felt a bit more alone in a seemingly dangerous environment.

Tired from all the riding, Captain O'Neal and Ranger Dolan shared watch duty allowing themselves some sleep without worrying about being set upon by stealthy cutthroats or monstrous beasts.

It was still dark outside when O'Neal and Dolan were summoned by yet another servant to meet General Light in an hour by the main gate. While they were getting ready the same servant returned with a small push cart with breakfast. The scrambled eggs, smoked ham, hot bread and hot tea, all looked very appetizing, but something about the aroma seemed not quite right. "Could be spoiled or laced with something." Dolan stated then mentioned how Irving got extremely sick after eating and drinking at Lady Karen's villa. Burying their breakfast in the dirt of a large potted decorative plant, the two Rangers instead breakfasted on their own venison jerky and rock hard corn cakes washed down with canteen water. "Wonder where Light is taking us next?" Ranger Dolan asked while inspecting his rifle and pistol. "Hopefully back to Lake Holiday where we can rejoin Irving, Custalow and hopefully Ferris and Price then we'll shag ass south and meet up with our fighters along the way. We may have to give Light the slip, before then." O'Neal replied checking the charges of his own weapons. "With a Knutesian running the show up here clearly indicates that we are not in the best of situations at this present time, so be ready for anything once we ride out with that buffoon and his boys."

Upon meeting General Light and his troopers by the main gate the Rangers were hardily greeted and asked how they enjoyed their breakfast. "Better than that meatless fare we were served at Berryville." O'Neal replied then inquired about where they were bound this morning.
"Off for a hunt west of here."
"A hunt?"
General Light smiled and said: "I remember that time we as Rangers hunted together in the Blue Ridge and bagged not even a scrawny turkey hen. Today I'm going to treat you boys with a chance to bag some prime game. Our private hunting preserved well stocked with deer, turkey, wild cattle, boars, goats and a herd of bison. It will be like old times and tonight back at Lake Holiday we will dine on our quarry." O'Neal recalled that particular hunting trip with David Light where he scared every bit of game away with his loud braggadocio and shooting at even a breeze stirred clump of rhododendron. O'Neal wondered how this man ever became a Ranger, let alone Ranger captain and now general of the northern Shenandoah. O'Neal always saw this man as a bullshit artist ever out to best others, seldom by actions, but more so with words.
"So it seems Lady Karen has taken a shining to Ranger Vanwerden. She'll eat that boy alive." Light laughed as they all mounted.

Heading westward upon a dirt road they rode by huge cultivated fields of winter wheat and young corn. Raggedy half starved looking peasants tended these fields under the watchful eyes of obviously well fed armed men. Crossing over a low ridge they entered a small sparsely wooded vale which contrary to what Light said earlier was devoid of game animals. Still they rode on. Light mentioned that the game was probably down at the salt blocks placed by a stream. At this point O'Neal became extremely suspicious and was scanning the terrain ahead for a place to make a sudden break for the south. About two miles away he saw wooded hills and ridge beyond. At the stream Light had mentioned, O'Neal saw no game or salt blocks, but they dismounted to water their horses. Both O'Neal and Dolan stuck close to their mounts watching Light whisper something in the ear of a brutish trooper and pointing his finger at them like a pistol. Then shots rang out and a musket ball crashed through Dolan's skull. With his head a bloody ruin, Ranger Dolan took two staggering steps and fell dead. O'Neal cursed then swiftly leaped upon his horse and made for those wooded hills. The chase was on. With a slight lead on these troopers, O'Neal still feared for his life as their shots whizzed all around him. Now the trees grew a bit thicker and he could hear lead balls crashing into their boles. One however found his horse's neck and the beast went down. Landing on both feet like a cat, O'Neal quickly retrieved his rifle and sprinted towards thick underbrush some hundred feet ahead. Before melting into the tangled growth, Captain O'Neal turned, took quick aim and took a shot at General Light. Seeing the man slump forwards in the saddle, O'Neal could not tell if his shot was fatal. Reloading on the run, O'Neal felt confident his pursuers would not be able to get their mounts through this thick growth. He stealthily headed west all the while listening for his pursuers. He heard them not and thought having shot their commander they had ceased this chase. Still the Ranger Captain pressed on. Coming to a small clearing O'Neal slacked his thirst at a bubbling spring. Just when he thought about resting for awhile the sound of not so distant voices came from the east. Slowly rising to his feet, he padded into a dense thicket at the clearing's edge. O'Neal could of bolted off, but he needed time to catch his breath. Well concealed, he waited for several short minutes. Three young troopers ambled into the clearing, no doubt the fleetest and most foolhardy of he bunch. Passing closely by O'Neal's hiding place in single file, he jabbed his rifle butt into the skull of the last man. As this fellow fell, O'Neal sunk his tomahawk into another's skull. The remaining trooper drew a pistol only to have O'Neal swiftly kick it out of his hand. The young man bounded backwards and whipped out his saber. Aiming a terrific stroke at the Ranger's head, O'Neal ducked below the whistling blade then stepped in driving his long knife into the trooper's chest. Sinking to his knees,the saber slipped from the man's hand then he issued a terrible scream before pitching face first into the bubbling spring. Off to the distance, O'Neal heard the calls of these three dead men's companions. Finding a narrow path at the clearing's western edge, O'Neal took to it as fast as his legs could carry him. A short time later he could hear distant loud cursing and knew his pursuers had found the bodies of their three fallen companions.

Now this path was ascending up a mountain slope and the underbrush began to thin out. At one point O'Neal could see his pursuers below. There were about twenty of them, too many to fight, so O'Neal continued his ascent. Reaching the top he paused to catch his breath before descending into another small vale. These woods were more open therefore less cover making O'Neal an easier target. The troopers were howling like blood mad wild dogs as they had caught sight of their quarry. Shots rang out and lead balls kicked up the dirt around O'Neal's feet. Ahead of him another ridge and now with his stamina all but spent, hope of eluding these men was growing dim. He pressed on but not before raising his rifle taking aim and dropping the foremost trooper. Aside from his pounding heart, all was silent and he knew the troopers were reloading. He swiftly did the same. Continuing uphill, O'Neal heard the sound of footfalls getting close. Chancing a glance back, he saw another fleet footed young trooper gaining on him with pistol raised. Turning around and aiming down, O'Neal blew the top of this fellow's head off. A testament of this Ranger's superb marksmanship. Still his pursuers came undauntedly on.

All but done in by this long running fight, O'Neal reached the ridge top where he reloaded his rifle and checked his pistol. This sparsely wooded ridge top would be a good place to turn at bay and sell his life, killing as many as these hounds as he could before being shot down like a mad dog. Over the pounding of his nearly exploding heart, O'Neal thought to of heard movement coming up the western slope and cursed the thought that some of his pursuers had circled around him. Just then another fleet young trooper advanced up the eastern slope, but a well placed shot to the chest dropped the fellow and he rolled downhill. Quickly reloading, O'Neal saw some eight troopers come into view and once more his long rifle dealt death. Gently propping the rifle against a tree, O'Neal drew his pistol and aimed. Another trooper went down gut shot. Hurling his pistol into the face of an advancing trooper, O'Neal drew his tomahawk and long knife. Thinking of Murlina and his dear friends, the Ranger issued a terrible war cry while he watched the remaining troopers raise their weapons.

A young trooper, no more than a boy attempted to take aim with a shaky hand. There was a deafening report. As Captain John O'Neal fell he heard more gunshots before blackness blotted out the sunlight and all of his senses...

[Atehequa]

Ranger Vanwerden had very little trouble making it out of Martinsburg as the written invitation bearing the signature of Lady Karen carried clout. Having presented to the gate guards, they snickered a bit then allowed Vanwerden to ride through unhampered. At a farm outside of town, he filched some drying trousers and shirt off a clothesline and swiftly changed in a strand of willows. He rode south without hardly a notice. Knowing that the lives of his friends depended upon him reaching Harlow and the other captains. There was however a sinking feeling in his heart regarding their safety after laying eyes on that mutant, Lord Crotalus, obliviously a Knutesian. Vanwerden also saw the many strong fortifications and huge numbers of fighting men. This would be no small upcoming fight. Taking the bypass around Winchester and heading west on the Northwestern Pike, it was late morning when he turned upon the road south to Lost River Valley. Changing back into Ranger attire, he rested his mount at a small village called High View. Vanwerden realized this was a mistake after attracting the attention of ten Winchester cavalry troopers. Leaping upon his horse, the Ranger sped southwards with these armed men giving chase. Turning in his saddled with a drawn pistiol, fired and hit the foremost trooper's mount. The horse's tumbling death not only threw the rider, but tripped up other galloping mounts as well. Two more troopers were slammed upon the road.Leaving two to see to their injured unhorsed companions. five of them pursued on.

As his mount was not well rested, the troopers were gaining on him. Pistol balls whizzed by his head, then one struck his mount. Thrown a good twenty feet into a roadside meadow, Vanwerden rose and reached for his second pistol, but it had slipped out during his tumble and was nowhere in sight. His rifle lay with the horse in it's buckskin case. Vanwerden drew his bone handled hunting sword and awaited death. Sabers drawn, the five troopers proceeded to surround him. Suddenly shots rang out and Vanwerden's pursuers toppled off their mounts either dead or dying. 'A blessed miracle' he thought. Hunting sword still in hand, he scanned the wooded rise off to the right, but saw no moving other than gun smoke drifting through tangled branches. "I appreciate y'all's help so don't shoot me too!" Vanwerden nervously shouted, but got no reply. Thinking it wise to sheath the broad curved blade, Vanwerden sat down, filled his pipe then struck a spark to light it. The minutes dragged as he smoked all the while keeping his eyes upon that thickly wooded rise. finally he heard a voice call out. "From where are you coming Ranger?"

Vanwerden rose to his feet, offered a greeting and replied: "From Martinsburg in a hurry."
"Why were those dogs chasing you, Ranger?"
"Because they were my enemies." At that Vanwerden caught some movement coming down out of the woods. At first one of them emerged. The Ranger gazed in wonder as this was a man like he never seen before. short in stature like Captain Harlow, this man was strongly built and had the graceful stride of a panther. As swarthy as a lowlander, his dark complexion was the only similarity. In spite of his size, there was something about the man that betokened ferocity. His dark hair was worn in a scalp lock like the Bolar Mountain warriors, but no feathers or deer hair roach adorned it. This fellow was clad in naught but a loincloth and shod with knee high buckskin boots. His body was either painted or tattooed with intricate designs. Cradled in his arm was a long rifle and from a broad belt hung a large sheathed antler handled knife. Approaching the dead horse, he knelt down and untied Vanwerden's rifle case from the saddle. After that he picked up his pistol from a tall clump of weeds. As he advanced, Vanwerden noticed the fellow's icy blue eyes. Sitting both retrieved rifle and pistol in front of Vanwerden, the strange warrior squatted down. "They are our enemies too, Ranger, as you can plainly see."
"That's good to know. May I ask who you are, sir?"
"One of those who that bastard Light has pushed from their homes."
"A Cacapon?" Vanwerden asked in amazement.
"I am the Kestrel, chief of the lower Cacapon." Issuing a shrill call, he signaled for his companions to come down from the woods. About a dozen of them attired much like their chief descended leading their small shaggy mounts. These men were smallish as well. Three of them set about gathering the slain troopers mounts, while the others gathered spoils from the dead.

"So it's true, the Cacapon are at odds with General Light?"

Instead of replying right away, the warrior chief stared at him with his fierce eyes and asked: "What is your name, Ranger?"
"I'm Vanwerden from the Rockfish Valley."
"Well Vanwerden, we of the Southern Cacapon are at war while the Northern Cacapon wait."
"Wait for what?"
"Waiting for assistance from the Rangers and their friends. My home use to be beside Cacapon Lake which is now called Lake Holiday. We were evicted from there and where Fort Capon now stands on the Cacapon River by light and five thousand troopers. Having only several hundred warriors and four times as many elderly, women and children, we removed ourselves into the mountains to the northwest rather than be exterminated. However we still send small parties to waylay troopers in and near our old homeland."

Vanwerden smiled, passed his pipe to the Kestrel and proclaimed: " We Rangers have assembled an army and have come to deal with Lord Crotalus and his General Light. We are encamped at,,"
"Lost River Valley." The Kestrel finished for him. "I know where your army is, Ranger Vanwerden. We watched you set up camp."
"I have to get back there as soon as possible, the lives of my friends may depend on it."
The warrior handed Vanwerden his pipe back and informed him: It's not burning." then went on to say: "I've sent men to save your Captain and his companion on Crotalus' killing ground."
"Killing ground?"
"A place where all those opposed to Crotalus and Light are taken to be done away with. We know seven of you rode into the Northern Shenandoah Valley just as we know two of them are no more."
"Which two and how do you know this?"
"We of the Cacapon can move like ghosts in the night. We know much of what goes on in Crotalus and Light's domain. The two Rangers that were taken to Charles Town were murdered."
"Ferris and Price! What about the others?"
"Your old chief and the Ranger with him at Cacapon Lake are in great danger."
"Irving and Custalow!"
"Your Captain and the other Ranger were taken to the killing ground, but hopefully my men will get there in time to save them. I have also sent word to your captains at Lost River and they are already moving north. We will meet them at Rock Enon Springs only several miles away." With that the Kestrel rose to his feet and offered Vanwerden a hand up. Before departing, the five slain troopers along with Vanwerden's dead horse were dragged a distance into the woods and all other traces of their demise were covered up.


Lady Mulinia awoke in time to see the Ranger Captains and their army passing Lost River Inn as they rode north. In naught but her house robe she ran out and confronted Captain Harlow.

"Why are you leaving? It hasn't been a week yet!"

Pulling his mount out of the procession, Harlow spoke in a grim tone. "We have received a message that it is time to advance." Looking up and down the long column, Murlina asked: "Have O'Neal, Irving and the others returned?"
"No My Lady."
"Then how do you know it's time to advance?"
"We have received word from our allies the Cacapon."
"What about O'Neal and the others?"
Harlow looked away from Murlina and replied: "The Cacapon have sent men to retrieve them from harm's way."
"Harm's way?"
Harlow said no more and trotted off to rejoin the column. Extremely worried about both O'Neal and Irving, Murlina ran back to her suite, got dressed for riding with the thought of heading north to find the man she had fallen for, but then common sense prevailed. By herself in a hostile realm, she would accomplish nothing. Instead Murlina took a long ride along the Lost River.

Returning to Lost River Inn shortly after noon, Murlina entered the lounge, seated herself at the same table she shared with Captain O'Neal, then ordered some light lunch and hard drink. Barely picking at her roast chicken and freshly picked salad, she quaffed raspberry brandy. With each glass she felt more confident that O'Neal, Irving and the others would safely return. Murlina scowled at a well to do couple who were complaining that the Ranger captains had only left a paltry force of one hundred and fifty men to watch over Lost River Valley. Shifting her view at the large open window, Murlina gazed northwards up the small valley and distant blue ridges. Although thankful for this sanctuary provided by Gary Tate, she rather would be accompanying the Ranger army. Now Murlina felt more lonely than her time spent alone in that small cottage in Bedford. Watching clouds settle upon those distant ridges, she did not see the woman approach her table with a bad limp.

"Care if I join you?"

Turning in her chair and looking up, Murlina saw a beautiful well formed woman with long wavy fiery hair and eyes the color of the sitting sun. She was clad in a loose cream colored toga-like garment which fell just above her knees. She smiled while waiting for Murlina's invitation to be seated and asked: "Haven't we met before?" Murlina thought there was something familiar about this woman, but could not pinpoint it. "Have a seat." She said noticing the bandaging around the woman's left calf. "What in the world happened to you?"
"Oh this?" She smiled while tapping the bandaging, "Hunting accident."
"Hunting accident?"
"Yes some bad shot plowed a groove in my calf with a rifle ball not too long ago. I imagine it's going to leave a nasty scar."
Extending her hand she said:"Hello, I'm Kitty and from what I've heard you are Lady Murlina of Bryce."
"Word gets around here." Murlina returned shaking Kitty's hand."

After a bottle of raspberry brandy along with a bit of friendly small talk, they somehow got on the subject of men. What Kitty spoke of seemed to play right into what Murlina had experienced while involved with Irving as well as how she was presently pining away over John O'Neal. "Too often we are second to their wives and jobs or toted around like shiny baubles. Trophies if you will." Kitty stated while leering at a young gardener coming in for refreshment. She then turned to Murlina and said: "We are women of good breeding and should not be throwing ourselves at philandering notable men only to be cast aside as playthings they have tired of. Take my love interest for example, the Mayor of distant Marion. He visits me when he wants a little honey, but is expected by the citizens to court and marry another woman from an old Marion family. It is she he takes to the parties and dances or any other public function, but he swears he'll marry me. The fool got quite upset after informing him I was going to visit relatives in the northeast, but enough talk of these types. Since we're stuck here for awhile we may as well be friends." Kitty's fiery eyes held Murlina's for a short while, then she told her about a dance here in the lounge tonight.

Somewhat incoherent and rather oblivious to his surroundings, Captain John O'Neal awoke with a slight headache. Eyes focusing in the gloom, O'Neal saw he was laying on what appeared to be bearskins inside a tent. At first he thought to be dead and awaiting passage to the afterlife. Then he felt the bandaging wrapped around his head. Emerging from this tent he was in the Ranger encampment, but not in Lost River Valley.
"Well look who has awoke from the dead!" Harlow exclaimed. He was in the company of Captains Guenette and Kirby. "Where are we and how in the fuck did I get here?" O'Neal inquired and then demanded a swig of whisky. Harlow embraced his friend and informed him: "We are encamped up here at Rock Enon Springs some twenty five miles from Winchester as the crow flies. As far as how you got here Johnny, you can thank the Cacapon and their chief, the Kestrel. If it weren't for them your bones would be bleaching atop that hill where they found you. A pistol ball grazed your skull and you have been out cold for a day and a half."
"The Cacapon?"
"Vanwerden !" Harlow called.
Breaking away from Ranger North and Jerome of Marlinton, Vanwerden approached the Captains. "Yes Captain Harlow?"
"Vanwerden, go to the Cacapon camp and invite the Kestrel up here for a bit of refreshment."

Some minutes later Vanwerden returned in the company of a rather savage looking fellow whose painted face was split in a wide smile. Cradled in his arm, a large smoking pipe, while his other hand held a deerskin pouch. O'Neal looked in wonder at this small warrior who was responsible for saving his life.Vanwerden took it upon himself to start introductions."Captain O'Neal, this is Kestrel, Chieftain of the Lower Cacapon." Handing Vanwerden the deerskin pouch, Kestrel had a free hand to extend. Grasping it, O'Neal gave greetings and graciously thanked Kestrel for saving his life.
"I wasn't present." The Cacapon returned with a smile and added: "But I knew you would be there and sent some of our best warriors to intervene. At first they thought you to be dead, but that pistol ball only gently kissed your thick skull. My men killed them all, even the dying one you gut shot, but not until he provided a little information and begged to be finished off because of his painful agony. Back tracking, my men found the others you killed which made eight in all. You are an admirable warrior and we Cacapon will be honored to fight together beside your friends."
Releasing the Kestrel's hand, O'Neal said: "I'm honored as well, my friend." Pulling out his pipe and lighting it from a burning brand, he passed it to Kestrel. "You say I took out eight of those troopers, but I counted nine."
"Oh, General Light. I'm sorry to say he only suffered a chunk of lead tear into his shoulder. From what my men gathered from two more troopers who were watching the other's horses, right when you fired, Light raised his pistol to get off a shot and your rifle ball struck the barrel and fragmented. My warriors pried more information out of these men and promptly split their skulls. All their bodies laid scattered from there back to where you were found, but the Cacapon erased their own spoor and signs. This will put a lot more fear into that cowardly Light's heart. It very much appears that you killed everyone of the men he left to finish the job. With such an enemy still alive and fear of that freak Crotalus, Light is probably locked in his quarters, deep in the bottle. Fear is our greatest ally and the more we cause, the sooner we drive these brigands into the ground. Light has explained his wound as a hunting accident."
O'Neal chuckled and inquired: "How is it you know so much of what goes on in the northern valley?"
"Because the Cacapon move like ghosts in the night." Vanwerden quoted the Kestrel. "Rangers Ferris and Price were murdered as well."
"Damned bastards! They're going to pay Ferris, Price and Dolan's deaths!" O'Neal growled then took a few swigs of whisky.
"They knew you seven had come to tell them cease and depart. They also know of your army, but think it to be still encamped at Lost River, but they will soon know where we are now."
O'Neal took another swig and stated: "Hard to get a clean shot at horseman at full gallop, but if it wasn't for him wanting to get a shot off at me, his brains would of fed the crows, ants and flies. The next time I won't miss his swelled head."

The Captains were amazed over and appreciative of the wealth of information Kestrel possessed regarding the northern valley. More he would share at the council this evening, but for now the Cacapon filled his pipe, lit then passed it to O'Neal. After a couple of rounds, all sitting at the captain's fire were feeling this fine pipe smoke's heady effects. Small wonder that the Kestrel most often kept a smile on his painted face. All four captains were extremely grateful for the eight hundred some odd Cacapon warriors who joined their ranks and was told by Kestrel that another some odd thousand from Upper Cacapon would probably come in tomorrow morning now that the Rangers have arrived. Taking Harlow aside, O'Neal inquired about Murlina.
"She's fine, Johnny. We left fifty Rangers and a hundred volunteers to watch and hold Lost River Valley as a base camp." Chuckling a bit, Harlow asked: "Say Johnny, you haven't did anything crazy like fall in love?"
A swift smile passed over O'Neal's face then it twisted into a savage snarl. "No time for syrupy sweet drivel, Harlow. Now we must talk war."

A council of war was held that evening upon a grassy rise between two spring fed ponds whose surfaces reflected the setting sun's last golden rays. In attendance were the four Ranger captains, leading Rangers, volunteer leaders such as Jerome of Marlinton and Black Arrow of Bolar Mountain. Mixed among them were Kestrel, some of his chief warriors along with an old man wearing a buckskin garment complete with head hide and antlers. Cacapon Chieftain Kestrel rose from beside the huge blazing fire, thanked everyone for alliance and proceeded to share his perspective regarding this conflict. "We can defeat all these soldiers of the northern Shenandoah, but we must carefully take our time as there are many of them. We need an initial great victory to put fear into their leaders, soldiery and civilian residents. Aside from barely scratching the fortifications of Bolivar while suffering some losses, Light, his trooper boys and Crotalus' army have not encountered a sizable adversary in the field. They are use to bullying small communities and sweeping down into the lowlands on slave raids. Taking out several thousand of them in battle will really effect morale and act as a threat to their hold on this area."
Captain Guenette rose, greeted Kestrel with a handshake and kiss on his painted cheek then inquired: "Just how many are we up against?" Kestrel flashed her a wide smile and replied: "Winchester alone can put over fifteen thousand troopers in the field while Martinsburg and surrounding forts can send just as many. The rest of the northern valley including mercenaries and fighting slaves can muster in with another ten thousand." At that Guenette laughed, patted Captain Kirby's back and said: "Seven thousand against forty thousand! There's your thirty foot tall ogre come back to bite your ass, Matt Kirby."
Kestrel cocked his head. "Ogre?"
"Yes chief, some five years ago Captain Kirby here killed an ogre." Harlow replied. At that the Kestrel issued a shrill cry, puffed his pipe and laughed: "A man who can kill an ogre shouldn't be afraid of anything, especially that jackass Light's parade boys and sorry ass marching band!"
"What if they don't attack while waiting for us to come down into the open?" O'Neal wanted to know.
"Leave that to us Cacapon we will persuade Light to send some up to us and we all will cut them into pieces."
"How are you going to accomplish this?"
"Tomorrow come Saturday evening, Lake Holiday will be be a place of much celebration as it will be that witch Lady Karen's birthday. Everyone will be in a stupor including the garrison at Fort Capon a few miles away. Since they think we Cacapon have been defeated, they are now careless. While some of these troopers are patrolling Lake Holiday, the others guzzle liquor back at the fort usually with both gates wide open. Let us Cacapon capture the fort and Lake Holiday, take some rather important hostages and let all the lackeys and shop owners escape then inform Light of this major act of aggression. He will send a sizable force to retake both Lake Holiday and Fort Capon. Down from the wooded hillsides we cut them all down. These men who have no brush fighting skills will never return."
"And if they send more?"
"Then we kill them as they come. Light is already fearful after getting winged and losing half of his personal guard on a rabbit hunt that went terribly wrong. He is also afraid of his boss, Crotalus. Kill a good several thousand of them or more early on and they will not only have worst fears, but respect for us as well."

The Kestrel more or less laid out a battle plan, thanked everyone again for their assistance and with that this first war council came to a close. Seemingly simple and a mode of fighting Rangers, Cacapon and most volunteers present excelled in, the ambush. Here the heavily wooded rolling terrain could be no more suitable.


For nearly two months the residents of Bolivar had endured a siege. Although they lived day and night with the sporadic exchanges of thunderous sounding cannon fire, their battlements held firm. Not fired as often as the besiegers, Bolivar's huge guns usually obliterated their targets. The enemy's artillery could not advance close enough to inflict any serious damage to Bolivar's western wall. Well provisioned and with more supplies coming across the Potomac River from allied Marylanders, Bolivar could hold out indefinitely or at least until these besiegers made bigger cannons. From across the Shenandoah River, enemy rifle fire raked a section of Bolivar's triangular fortification's long southern wall occasionally causing casualties. Deadly sprays of grapeshot kept these pests scattered and pinned down on the Blue Ridge's wooded slope. Colonel Glanville Fitzpatrick personally delighted in firing Bolivar's big guns himself while shouting at the top of his lungs: "Take your medicine, you traitorous sons of whores!" Once a high ranking officer of the northern Shenandoah Valley's Virginia Militia, Fitzpatrick refused to respectfully recognize upstart David Light's bizarre rise in rank and his military reformation. Most of that old citizen militia had been turned into a professional army. Fitzpatrick still cursed whenever he recalled the effect Light had on younger militiamen who made up the majority. They idolized him. Playing into their youthful aspirations of accomplishing heroic deeds, winning magnificent victories, acquiring booty and elevating in rank, Light gained enough support to stage a coup. He called them the Army of the Northern Shenandoah. Before General Light could organize them into an effective fighting force, or recruit anymore, Colonel Fitzpatrick led four thousand seasoned militiamen and their families into the walls of Bolivar. At first General Light sent envoys of officials who attempted to talk Fitzpatrick into joining his army with promises of great rewards, but the old Colonel sent back messages that read -

'You frilly popinjay,

As the highest ranking militia officer here in the northern valley, I order you to disband your rabble, send those boys back to their mamas and surrender yourself at Bolivar's western gate for judgement. If you foolishly decide on aggression, we will litter the ground with your dead boys.

Disrespectfully not yours,

Colonel Glanville Fitzpatrick, Virginia Militia'


The grayness of dawn was slashed by sun rays shooting over Little North Mountain, but where Captain O'Neal stood it was rather gloomy. From thick growth he gazed down at the stretch of road then scanned the heavily wooded hills beyond. Of the thousands of fighters hidden behind trees and rocks, he saw not a sign. Standing beside him, Jerome of Marlinton whispered: "I feel good fortune is with us and we will triumph over anything that comes up the pike." O'Neal said nothing and continued to watch the road from Great North Mountain's northern most lower slopes. From just west of Hayfield to just east of the small village of Gore, nearly seven thousand Rangers, volunteers and Cacapon warriors were concealed in thick growth on either side of Northwestern Pike. The Kestrel couldn't of picked a better place to set up this huge ambush. Earlier in the predawn hours, Cacapon warriors burned the Hogue Creek and Parrish Run bridges on Frederick Pike, the only other road leading to the Ranger's stronghold. Now Light's army would have to advance up Northwestern Pike.

As morning wore on, Captain Harlow who was on the other side of Northwestern Pike, watched a snail slowly move over the large rock which served as his cover. Turning his bright green eyes back to the road he grumbled. "They're taking their sweet time getting here." to which Ranger North smiled and said: "Patience Captain, they will come." Following his words a loud crow cawing came from the east. A signal.
Then the faint sound of hoof beats drifted up to Harlow's ears followed by a hundred some odd mounted troopers coming into view. This was a scouting party. These scouts detected not a sign of life other than flitting birds and leafy branches swaying in the breeze. They rode on oblivious of the thousands of eyes upon them, some only several yards away. A half an hour later, Harlow heard the sound of many hoof beats and marching feet.

Rather ambitious and more overconfident than General Light, Colonel Eugene Parnell initially refused the assistance of three thousand more fighting men from Martinsburg, but General Light overruled as he suspected Rangers were involved in these aggressive acts. Somewhat portly and more of a fop than David Light, Parnell was clad in a gray, scarlet and gold trimmed uniform with a saffron cape. Long dark curly locks and a silver chased crested steel helmet framed a boyish face. He was more appreciative of the thousand West Virginia mercenaries who were more accustomed to brush fighting. These he would send into Lake Holiday first to do most of the fighting before his troopers swept in and cleaned up. Now Parnell had to share this important victory with Lord Stoke of Martinsburg along with his haughty black and reds. Still such a triumph would be gloriously recognized in Winchester. Looking over at Stoke he recalled hearing a Charles Town whore say Stoke was so hideously ugly she wouldn't fuck him in the dark for all the gold and silver he had. Tall and of a slender build, his small dark beady eyes, large beak-like nose, pockmarked face and neck along with short cropped red hair reminded Parnell of a turkey vulture especially with the long black cloak he wore. Parnell's thoughts drifted to the pretty society ladies he told last night - "I shall drive those filthy painted cow thieves into the Mississippian Sea if need be."

Leading around nine thousand men, both Parnell and Stokes were confident of any easy victory against a thousand or so Cacapon.

O'Neal watched this peacock of a commander and other officers halt to review their passing column. The Ranger awaited for another signal from Kestrel's warriors a little further east. Once the column's end passed his Cacapon, they would open up on it's rear. A signal for all to rain death upon these Northern Shenandoah men. Passing their commanders, the fife and drum corps began playing a lively marching tune. O'Neal's mouth twisted into a sinister grin as he watched the compacted column continue westward like a huge snake. Heads held high, these soldiers would make pathetically easy targets as they obliviously marched to their doom. Mounted troopers slowly trotted slowly on either side of the infantry their red banners with a single gold star wavering the cool spring breeze. Further down, O'Neal could see the gold flag with a coiled rattlesnake of Martinsburg's black and reds.

Just when the commanders rejoined their column, O'Neal heard a distant barrage of gunfire from the east followed by another to his west. "Time to get cracking!" Jerome laughed. The dark wooded hillsides belched forth gun smoke and a hail of hot lead rained down. Men fell by the hundreds. Officers strove to keep their soldiers in line, but panic swiftly ensued. Their volleys up into the wooded slopes proved all but ineffective and they were shot down in droves while attempting to reload. A good many dropped their rifles and attempted to flee, but got caught in a deadly bottleneck. For the Rangers and their allies it was like shooting fish in a barrel. The dead and dying began piling up on Northwestern Pike which now ran red with blood. Large groups of soldiery charged up the wooded slopes, but were dispatched in short order. A cluster of black and reds managed to fight their way through a weak section of the Ranger line. Fleeing north, they were hotly pursued. Off to the east O'Neal heard a terrible howling and knew the Cacapon were rushing down. From either side of the pike both Harlow and O'Neal's fighters fired another volley, leaned their rifles against tree boles, drew pistols, tomahawks, swords and knives then proceeded to pour headlong down the slopes. His stormy grey eyes blazing, O'Neal sidestepped a bayonet thrust and cleaved the head of a burly young trooper with a tomahawk stroke. Drawing his pistol he shot a sword wielding black and red in the face. Meanwhile Jerome danced through several unhorsed saber wielding troopers dealing death with his smallsword which flickered like summer lightening. Vanwerden lopped off the head of a West Virginian mercenary then disemboweled another. Wrenching his tomahawk free from a black and red's neck, O'Neal chanced a quick glance around and saw Harlow shoot a trooper off his charging mount then brain a turbaned lowland slave. Both captains smiled at each other then turned their eyes to a dozen or so officers and other troopers, sabers drawn, surrounding Colonel Parnell in a protective formation as he shrieked: "Quarter! Have mercy!"
"You'll get the same you had in store for us!" Harlow returned while brandishing his blood splattered ax. With North and three other Rangers, rushed in to gain great honor by slaying the enemy commander. At the same time O'Neal, Jerome and Vanwerden closed in. The fighting was fierce and one of Harlow's Rangers went down with a bayonet in his guts. Finishing off the last defending trooper, Captain Harlow saw O'Neal pounce at Parnell. His tomahawk glancing off the Colonel's helmet threw Captain O'Neal off balance for an instant, enough time for Parnell to swing a terrific stroke. Ducking under the whistling saber, O'Neal jabbed over a foot of his big knife blade into Colonel Parnell's chest. A loud cheer was raised when the trooper commander fell. By then all his his not so gallant boys were either dead or dying. Under a black flag, no prisoners did the victors take. The wounded and dying had their heads knocked in.

Tracking through pools of blood, Harlow approached O'Neal who was looking down at Parnell's corpse as if in a daze.
"You bagged my prized gobbler, Johnny boy!" to which O'Neal reached down, removed the dead Colonel's helmet and handed it to Harlow. "You should of got here sooner to bag this gobbler, Fox."
"Jerome!" Harlow called, "I've got a piece of headgear pretty enough for your head!" To everyone's surprise, Jerome put the helmet on while mentioning a slight gash to his scalp. Vanwerden, cleaning his hunting sword with a black and red officer's cape exclaimed: "Damn that was too quick! Light should send several thousand more up here so we can make it a day, or at least to lunch!"
"Twenty seven minutes from the first bit of shooting to the last shots that just ended west of here." Ranger North informed Vanwerden while stuffing away his silver pocket watch.
"They'll be no more of them coming to visit us today." It was Captain Guenette and and two dozen of her Rangers dismounting from captured horses. She was just as blood splattered as the other captains. "I seriously doubt they'll send in another sizable force tomorrow either. Look at the thousands of dead men. That idiot Light and his Knutesian friends will know something of who we are. They will surely,,,," Guenette's words were cut short by a demonic howling. The Cacapon were approaching, their near naked bodies covered in blood and smeared paint. The Kestrel flashed a smile and with his wicked looking ax proceeded to chop down a young straight tree. sheering off branches he had a twelve foot long pole. Limping over to Parnell's body, the Kestrel smiled at the captains and lopped of his head. "We must gather up some wagons, build wide platforms on them and haul all this dead meat to just east of Hayfield. Sticking Colonel Parnell's head on a sharpened end of his pole, he told his warriors to post it atop a mound of the dead. Flashing another smile, he said: "Fear and loss is the only thing these bastards understand."

After a brief rest, everyone went about the all day task of transporting thousand of dead bodies to Hayfield then building a gory mound out of them. Posted atop this horrible monument their commander's head, his dead eyes staring towards the east...

[creativesoul]

sounds like a past life- the details are quite amazing-

[Atehequa]

sounds like a past life- the details are quite amazing-

Thanks

A futuristic tale about civilization's light dimmed into another dark age.

[Atehequa]

General Light looked down in horror at two young guards laying upon the floor with their necks broken like twigs. Behind them his beautiful carved oaken doors had been kicked open and a huge figure loomed in foyer.

"Tell me why I shouldn't have you cut into chunks and feed them to the vultures?"

Lord Crotalus arrived at General Light's palace-like quarters in a terrible state of anger. Not only had nearly three thousand of Martinsburg's black and reds perished with another six thousand northern valley fighting men yesterday, but on the road to Winchester, his coach and personal guard were sniped upon as well. "Are those two dead idiots talking to you, instead of me?"
"You didn't have to kill them." Light mumbled.
"They were a little too late opening the door after I announced myself." Clearing the foyer in two big strides, Crotalus' huge hand closed around Light's neck and lifted the general as to look straight into his terrified eyes. "For your sake, these insurgents had better not of killed their hostages. Didn't you receive word from Lord Stoke about sending an envoy up there first to arrange a prisoner exchange?" Tossing Light on a couch like he was a rag doll, Crotalus added: "Lord Stoke managed to fight his way out of that disaster and informed me that he told you to hold this exchange outside of Hayfield, but instead of obeying my order, you wanted it held outside of Lake Holiday." Still gasping for breath, Light sputtered: "Your orders,, were to,, trade prisoners,, then attack. I figured,, to do this,, in one fell swoop."
"It was one fell swoop alright, you blithering dumb ass. First your sodden garrison at Fort Capon surrenders without firing a shot allowing Lake Holiday to be overran with savage hillbillies, then what occurred yesterday morning. Now we have to withdraw cannon, horses and men from Bolivar. What a waste of good seed you are."

The only reason that David Light still drew breath was that Crotalus would not kill his children or grandchildren, even the bastard ones.This was a rather odd scene, a grandfather standing over a grandson who appeared older than him. Although one forth Knutesian, Light favored his grandmother's side. Using his arcane powers, Crotalus orchestrated Light's ascent in rank as a northern valley Appalachian Ranger and Virginia Militia officer. Now General Light loathed being his grandfather's puppet ruler.
"And you got your stupid ass shot as well." Crotalus hissed seeing that his slight ruffing up of Light had him bleeding again. Settling his huge frame into one of Light's throne-like chairs, Crotalus' tone became softer. "Now listen to me Dave, your next offensive against these malcontents will be well thought out and commanded by your uncle, Lord Stoke." Noticing the look of disappointment on Light's face, Crotalus said: "Oh don't fret you fucking glory pig, you'll both be celebrated in victory. I want you to send an envoy and arrange a hostage exchange at the forest's edge just west of Hayfield. Give them their drunken mascot Irving and get the three Morning Star Sisters, my slut of a granddaughter Karen, along with the others to Winchester. Then you will assist Lord Stoke in his three pronged attack on the enemy stronghold."
"But there are many thousands of them, and what if they don't want to trade prisoners?"
"You dare doubt my methods, my craft?" A baleful glow in Crotalus's eyes seemed to light up the dim room. "How do you think I came to rule what our fore bearers were dispossessed of centuries ago?"
General David Light was both disgusted by and fearful of his Knutesian grandfather, but enjoyed the high place their kinship had allowed him.
"If something goes wrong with the prisoner exchange, hang loose for awhile and I will personally see to retrieving our people." Rising from his seat Crotalus walked towards the door. Halting in the foyer he looked down at
Light's dead guardsmen and hissed: "Clean up this mess, boy!"

When not sleeping, Lady Murlina of Bryce spent her time inside the Inn's lounge or at a few other upscale Lost River Valley taverns. Being the rumored love interest of both Irving and O'Neal, two extremely notable Ranger commanders who were now fighting others bent on taking over this hedonistic community, she was treated as somewhat of a celebrity. Often in the company of another unusually beautiful woman who limped about with a curiously carved cane, Murlina's nights were a blur of feasting, drinking, smoking reefer and indulging in a potion her reveling companion possessed. A pleasure playground of those with means, there were always dances, feasts, parties and plays to attend. Murlina never felt more alive. At this point she was ready to put John O'Neal further in the back of her mind like Irving and several others, but Kitty kept insisting that the Ranger Captain was a good catch and bound for greatness. "Be what inspires and drives him." Kitty stated one night after they shared a few sips of that golden potion. In this substance induced state, Murlina imagined herself queen of Lost River Valley ruling through her husband, the heroic John O'Neal. King John. In the meantime her and Kitty were secretly carousing with a wealthy Lost River Valley landowner and his reefer gardener.Kitty's wonderful potion and seemingly sensible words dissipated any feelings of guilt. "Oh you know men. They are probably humping those wild little Cacapon women as we speak, a girl has every right to have her fun too, we'll ditch these losers once the real men return from war. Who knows, I may fancy a Ranger Captain for myself as well."

What Murlina did not yet know, that Kitty along with being half Knutesian, she was also her half sister. Murlina never knew her mother was seduced and ravished by Lord Crotalus while spending a weekend at Shannondale. This was not only a slow awakening for Murlina, but a backup plan in case the Ranger Captains were victorious. Reminded of Conrad's defeat, Crotalus was putting in place a bit of damage control if anything went wrong.

There had been no big victory celebration in the Ranger encampment. Around the captain's fire, leaders discussed strategy and stressed precautionary measures. Captain Harlow mentioned his plan to build a sturdy gaol for their hostages instead of keeping them in the jail at Fort Capon. Although heavily guarded, Harlow did not want these important prisoners kept at that out of the way location. One of their prisoners, was an almost likable fellow. Captain Bruce Gaines, a rather rangy man twenty nine years in age with a gaunt face, dark piercing eyes and shock of black hair. When interrogated, along with some valuable information Gaines imparted all the while cursing David Light's name, the trooper captain offered up a hard luck story which sometimes had the Ranger Captains feeling sorry for him when not laughing at the humorous way he described some of his misadventures. At one time he had been a colonel in the northern valley army and a close friend of General David Light. "Oh we were the closest of pals, man as officers in the Virginia Militia, but when he became a general, I became part of his entourage, just a well paid yes man who was expected to sing this jackass's glories. Sure there were lots of big bashes and women, but Dave was the big deal and the gals me and the other lads made it with were his leftovers. What a fucking showman Light is, fabricating tales of us thwarting lowlander invasions while we were actually partying hard in Shannondale, Lake Holiday, or down in Lost River Valley. For awhile I was shacking up with his sister, the lewd lady of Berryville. What a piece of work that creature is. Even though I felt a bit degraded, man, life wasn't all that bad. Appearance wise, Karen is quite a dish, man and in the sack a rather exciting ride, but I felt like her personal pleasure toy and soon she had me wearing duds just as gaudy as her brother's get ups, and that is what got me busted down to a resort town guard."
"Do go on." chuckled Harlow. Gaines licked and smacked his lips and begged for a pipe of reefer and some liquor if available.
"Get this man some whisky and smoke." laughed O'Neal. Sitting in his cell they passed around both jug and pipe.
"It was a weekend we were suppose to be haranguing the Cacapon, but we spent it at a big bash in Charles Town with the mercenary commanders. Instead of wearing the pastel blue and violet uniforms Karen had some Shannondale tailor make for us, we wore our usual dress gray and red uniforms. Dave however was the only one looking like a blue and violet garden flower. Needless to say, man, the mercenaries and us laughed him out of the great hall. We were all busted down in rank and a few of us were sent here at this lonely desolate place. If we're lucky, several serving wenches from Lake Holiday will sneak here and provide us a little fair company." Taking another big swig of whisky, Gaines then pleaded with the captains to keep him and his officers as prisoners, as certain death awaited them back in Winchester or the killing grounds west of Martinsburg. "Shit man, give me a rifle and I'll shoot that asshole myself."
"Give us a bit of time to think about that." Harlow said while patting the fellow's shoulder. Leaving Gaines with a pipe and a bit of tobacco and reefer the two Ranger Captains checked in with those men guarding other prisoners, but did not interrogate the three morning star priestesses or Lady Karen of Berryville who had finally quieted down. Very much livid from the time of her capture at Lake Holiday, to the strip search carried out by several of Captain Guenette's female Rangers which she threatened: "When Crotalus comes we will have you and your captain ganged raped to death by lowland slaves then fed to the wild dogs." Like the morning star sisters, all personal effects including clothing were confiscated. All four of them were given white cotton frocks and nothing else aside from water along with food, which they refused to eat. Upon leaving Fort Capon, Captain Kirby was advised to remind his Rangers they should have no eye contact and the bare minimum of verbal interaction with these female captives.

Aside from several dozen Rangers and volunteers kept at Lake Holiday as watch, the resort town was vacant. Captain Kirby, a hundred Rangers and seven times their number in volunteers were stationed inside Fort Capon until it's cannons and prisoners could be moved to Great North Mountain, the Ranger army's stronghold. Large patrols watched the Northwestern Pike from Fort Capon to Hayfield while a number of small scouting parties ranged further.If another large force from the northern valley approached, they would know well in advance. The Ranger force had been fortunate so far, during the ambush on Northwestern Pike they lost only twelve rangers, three killed, nine wounded. Of the volunteers, fourteen killed and thirteen wounded. All were buried in a mass grave on Great North Mountain's lower slope overlooking the battlefield.

Just as Captains Harlow and O'Neal returned to the Ranger encampment a sudden downpour of cold rain had them and everyone else seeking some kind of shelter be it canvas tents or the dilapidated
Rock Enon Springs Inn and Spa. Just as it started the cold rain
suddenly ceased and was replaced by thick patches of drifting fog. Emerging from their tent, the three Captains saw off Ranger Cynthia Dawson, thirty Rangers and twenty two Cacapon who were going out on patrol. In spite of their recent victory, O'Neal as well as the others knew there would be more fighting. As he watched Dawson's patrol swallowed up by a raggedy patch of fog an uneasy feeling troubled him.

On Siler Road near the junction of Frederick Pike a Ranger scouting party of eight were riding north to watch for any signs of an enemy advance. Around a bend and right in front of a small bridge, the Rangers found just what they were looking for. Several hundred dark clad men sat still upon even darker mounts. Ranger Ronald Booth caught the glint of their spired steel helmets and raised firearms in the partial moonlight. "Announce yourselves!" a raspy voice commanded. Just as the Rangers wheeled their mounts around, a barrage of lead balls tore through their party. Four Rangers and two of their horses went down in that terrible instant. Booth and three others managed to get back around the bend with several hundred pursuers not far behind. Crossing Frederick Pike, they sped down Pools Road with the sound of hundreds of pursuing hoof beats in their ears. One of the Rangers toppled from his horse with a bullet wound to the chest from their initial encounter. He had riden over a mile with that fatal wound. Booth and the others pushed on expecting to be shot off their mounts at any second, but their pursuers discharged no firearms. Daring a glance back, Booth saw the glint of swords and lance heads. Drawing a pistol and turning in his saddle, Booth shot the foremost rider off a black horse. The other two Rangers followed suit.

"Gunshots!" Ranger Dawson shouted then led her patrol off the Northwestern Pike and up Pools Road. As dawn's first dim light turned darkness to grey, the Ranger patrol ran into what was left of Booth's scouting party. "Hundreds of them!" Booth informed Dawson, but by that time the enemy was already upon them. Trading her fresher mount for Booth's, she told the scout to ride back for reinforcements. The thunder of rifles and pistols gave way to the clangor of steel weapons as this savage battle continued. After ten or so minutes of fighting, it was all over. Ranger Dawson and her entire patrol lay dead, but they had sold their lives dearly. Among their lifeless bodies were over two hundred black and reds out of Martinsburg including their commander. The others swiftly retreated northwards.


Speeding back to Great North Mountain, Ranger Booth knew in his heart that Dawson and her patrol were being rubbed out. Booth felt a tremendous amount of shame he was not fighting and dying with them. He swore an oath and spurred Dawson's mount onward.


Arriving at that gory scene on Pools Road, Captain O'Neal swore under his breath then dispatched scouts upon a thinly wooded rise to watch for the enemy. The majority of the five hundred Rangers and volunteers took up defensive positions while others set about cutting down young trees to make travois so their fallen comrades could be transported for burial. The enemy dead were relieved of their weapons, amour and any other valuables. Tossed into a pile, the dead black and reds were complemented by their commander's head stuck on a cut sapling, the handiwork of Ranger Booth.

"They were feeling us out." O'Neal informed Captain Guenette, Vanwerden and Jerome. "At least we're holding good high defensible ground in case these dogs come at us from more than one direction."
"Let them throw away their lives." Black Anne said. "I've already sent people to fetch four cannon from Fort Capon. Our position can be easily defended as long as ammunition and supplies hold out."
"Well we've already captured a shit load of both to add to ours." Vanwerden stated. Upon his head a spired helm he took from a dead black and red. Although they captured Parnell's supply wagons and a good amount of ammunition from Fort Capon along with foodstuffs looted at Lake Holiday, the Ranger Captains were outmatched. Crotalus and Light had many more men and much more supplies at their disposal. O'Neal had confidence in the fighting prowess of his comrades, but knew they were also up against more than soldiery. Having listened to Kestrel's talk of Knutesian witchcraft and were creatures, O'Neal thought about that strange cat he shot by the Jackson River. Riding back to camp he constantly scanned the wooded surroundings.

Upon arriving back at the high hollow of Rock Enon Springs, they were met by dirges and wailing of the small Cacapon women seeing their dead kin being dragged in on travios. The Rangers bowed their heads in grim stoic silence. Harlow and North approached this procession on horseback. "How many did they kill?"
"About two hundred and twenty left in a pile by the road, Harlow. We will honor our fallen tonight." O'Neal replied then asked: "Where is the Kestrel?"
"He and a few hundred Cacapon rode off to raid storehouses at Cedar Grove."
"Do you think that was a wise trip to embark on?"
Harlow raised his hand at the mounted warriors coming in behind O'Neal's slow procession and said: "Well here comes Kestrel now packing in goods. Ask him if you want." O'Neal turned in his saddle to see hundreds of Cacapon with fifteen wagons full of flour, dried beans, cornmeal and horse fodder. Upon seeing his slain warriors, the Kestrel issued a series of short shrill cries and swore to avenge their deaths. Pointing a finger at the captured supplies he stated: "A little more to keep us going. It was guarded by only three troopers.
From now on Crotalus and Light will better guard their supply depots."

Four days had passed with no other sign of the enemy. Harlow was completing converting an old stone manor house into a gaol to confine the hostages while Black Anne Guenette busied herself with constructing fortified cannon placements. Aside from the one road in at Gore the only other enemy approaches would be over thickly wooded ridges on narrow winding trails. Upon these pickets were posted. Munching on cornbread and jerked beef for breakfast, Guenette, Harlow, O'Neal, Vanwerden, North and the Kestrel welcomed in Ranger Booth who just returned from an all night patrol. Waving off both food and hot chicory, Booth obviously quite shaken went for a jug of whisky. "Are you alright, Ranger?" Black Anne asked while taking the jug from Booth's hands, uncorking it and pouring him a cup full. Pouring it's contents down his gullet, Booth winched and held out the cup for another. "We were riding on Gnattsville Road at dawn and saw a huge cat."
"Tiger, lion, puma or jaguar?" North asked.
"None of them." returned Booth before he gulped down a second cup of whisky. "It was as big as a lion, but had a red mane and pale spots."
"Go on!" O'Neal growled, now extremely interested. Black Anne poured Booth another cup. A bit calmer, he continued, "It carried a pack in it's mouth like a kitten. From a small apple orchard we watched it crossing a small field. About midways across it began to change."
"Change?" The Kestrel inquired with great interest.
"It started to change into a man-like shape even standing on two legs. The critter removed something from that pack, a bottle or jar and drank from it. Well it began to turn back into a cat and that's when the wind changed taking our scent to it. The critter's eyes shined like lanterns then it bolted off with Jerome and a few of his Marlinton boys in hot pursuit."
"Damn fools!" The Kestrel swore then suggested a party be sent after them. "These Knutesians are black magicians and were-creatures. They were made into something other than human a long time ago. We can only guess how many of them blight the Appalachians. Only the full and half breeds can change into monsters by drinking their evil potions and like the big cats they become, these Knutesians are hard to kill. Aim for the heart or head and,," The Kestrel's words were cut short by a scout galloping into the captains camp. "Captains, there is a small party of troopers with a white flag just west of Hayfield!"
"No sign of anymore of them?" O'Neal demanded.
"No Captain,there's only around twenty of them."
"Well then lets see what they want." Harlow suggested, adding: "Maybe they come asking for terms of their surrender."
"Highly unlikely. They probably want to set up hostage negotiations." The Kestrel informed him.

"Hell, make those bastards wait while we finish breakfast." O'Neal grunted with a mouthful of cornbread.

Within a few hours of the earlier parley, twenty mounted troopers and a civilian were reported to be awaiting at the same location as before. From thick shadowy growth some two hundred Cacapon and Rangers watched these troopers gathered a stone's throw away beyond the forest's edge. On horseback upon the Northwestern Pike, Guenette, O'Neal, Kestrel along with twenty five others. Riding out alone, O'Neal halted halfway and awaited the trooper's commanding officer. A young man on a splendid white horse trotted forward and halted ten feet or so from him.

"I'm Captain Bellmore here to exchange a prisoner for four that you hold captive as agreed on earlier." Instead of giving his name, outfit or rank, O'Neal merely asked: "Do you have the Vice Mayor of Bedford here?"
"Do you have the four captives we asked for?" Bellmore wanted to know. Turning about the Ranger Captain issued a loud whistle and four mounted people were brought up to where Guenette was. Hooded cloaks concealed their features and all of them were gagged. Motioning with his hand, Bellmore signaled for their prisoner to be brought forward by another trooper. At that time Captain Guenette led the four hooded hostages up to O'Neal. Trotting back to the forest's edge with a very haggard looking Irving, Guenette and O'Neal awaited what was to come. They watched as Bellmore's troopers removed the former hostages' hooded cloaks. "Why are we waiting? I need a fucking drink." Irving grumbled. Patting the Vice Mayor's back, O'Neal chuckled and replied: "You'll see." Captain Guenette was now laughing while watching commotion taking place out in the field.

"This is not what we agreed on!" boomed from Bellmore's mouth as his party advanced forward. It appeared the young captain was not satisfied with this exchange and rightly so as instead of the morning star priestesses, he had three courtesan mistresses of predominate northern valley men. However they did include as agreed upon, Lady Karen of Berryville. Her gag removed, she screamed all sorts of threats and profanities. "That's far enough, boy!" O'Neal shouted, but Bellmore's party continued until two hundred riflemen stepped out of the woods.
Halting, Captain Bellmore bawled: "This is not what we agreed on earlier!"
"I call four for one a bargain, so why the fuck are you crying?" Noticing the excitable young officer nervously tapping the butt of his pistol, O'Neal growled: "Do something stupid and not one of you will get out of here alive!" It was then Lady Karen started spouting threat's again. "My grandpa and brother will have all of you flayed and roasted,," Captain Guenette's pistol spoke and a lead ball passed through Lady Karen's thick hair, shearing off a few locks while barely missing her head. "Put the gag back on that bitch!" Black Anne laughed already having raised her other pistol.

"This is not what we agreed on!" Bellmore repeated.

O'Neal boldly rode forth with his pistol drawn. "We didn't agree on starting this war either, but there your leaders were to start one for us by executing four members of a diplomatic party, holding one hostage and almost doing me in! Now you expect to get over on us in a prisoner exchange? You got three high class whores and a hissing shrew. Now get you gone from here and tell that spineless worm David Light to surrender. If not let him trifle with us and we will feed him and his entire army to the buzzards!" At that Captain Bellmore's party quietly departed.

Once back at the Ranger encampment Irving found a jug and proceeded to guzzle whisky. None had ever saw this former Ranger Captain in such a fearful state. "You're up against something that can't be defeated by guns or the blade alone." The Vice Mayor informed them.
"That funny Irving, we slaughtered a good several thousand of them already on the pike recently." Harlow said.
"And managed to trade four whores for you." O'Neal laughed. "Aside from looking as if suffering from a bad hangover, you don't look mistreated."
Taking another big swig of whisky, Irving spoke of his captivity. "I awoke extremely ill the next morning after Lady Karen's dinner party. My first thought was she slipped something into what I either ate or drank, but it could of been a bad hangover from inferior liquor. About an hour after O'Neal and the others rode off with Light, a servant offered me some pleasant tasting tea. Within minutes of finishing a cup, I was in top shape. Even my bad leg felt better."
"An elixir." said the Kestrel as he and several other Cacapon warriors entered the captain's camp. "Those Knutesian witches are quite skilled in the making of potions and poisons. Old tricks that an old dog like you, Irving should know quite well by now."
"And hello to you as well, Kestrel." Irving slurred.
"You two know each other?" Harlow inquired knowing that Irving had strange and far flung people in his circle.
"I knew Captain Irving some twenty five years ago when he possessed greater intelligence and would not lead such a small party of men into a death trap." Irving's hand went for the smallsword he had lost at Lake Holiday. Realizing it was gone, he rose to his feet and growled: "Just what are you trying to say, Kestrel?"

Vice Mayor and Cacapon chieftain faced each other under an overcast sky. His face twisted into an ugly snarl, Irving glared down at the smaller man. The blazing blue fires in Kestrel's eyes did not match his broad smile. Eyes locked together, they silently circled around one another. It seemed to be a battle between souls and after a few short minutes Irving's appeared to be taking a pounding. Sweat began pouring from his reddening face and soon he was gasping for air. "Enough,,,you have,, made your point!" Hearing those words the Kestrel whispered something in another Cacapon's ear and the warrior sprinted off.
"You should of sought me out first instead of riding into the belly of the beast, Irving. You know we Cacapon owed you a favor. Perhaps spending way too much time in that jug has befuddled you."
"I've well earned a leisurely retirement, Kestrel!"
"If that's the case, Irving then perhaps you should of stayed down in Bedford enjoying that retirement instead of leading fighting men into war.
Don't tempt me into sending for Bucksnort."
Just then the young Cacapon warrior Kestrel sent away returned with a blanket bundle. Spreading it out upon the ground the bundle contained Irving's pistols, smallsword, dagger and walking stick. "All retrieved at Fort Capon after we captured it." The Kestrel laughed, adding "Forget about those Knutesian strumpets and pick up your weapons, man."
Irving seemed somewhat surprised. The Cacapon chieftain had Vanwerden light his big pipe, took a few puffs and handed it to the Vice Mayor. "Let me guess Captain Irving, that tea made you feel like a virile young man again and a little later while conveniently in the company of Lady Karen while hopped up on drugged brandy, she excused herself, sashayed out of the chamber, returned wearing a flimsy evening gown, then straddled you while begging to have that wispy little garment ripped off her shapely body?"
"How in the fuck did you know that?"
The Kestrel kindly accepted a hot cup of honey sweetened chicory from Vanwerden and said: "Over two years ago when David Light wormed his way up to General of the Northern Shenandoah Miltia, he feigned a great concern for his region's neighbors and sought to continue good relations. He spoke of establishing an even more profitable trading agreement between us and offered military assistance against powerful brigands living along the upper Potomac. It was around this same time of year, Light's half sister, Karen began visiting the Cacapon villages claiming to have a great interest in our ways. She even took to dressing like a Cacapon maiden and sharing in all aspects of our day to day lives. It wasn't long until she showed up at Cacapon Lake and eventually to my hall. I must admit not long having lost my wife to sickness, Karen seemed to have lit up a dark empty place in my heart. My four young children adored her and she would bring them sweets from Winchester. In no time Karen moved into my home. Attending to all household tasks, she was also became a mother figure to my children. I became very much attracted to her, but all the while knowing Karen was a proper lady who required long steady courting. We did everything together, hunting, fishing, gardening, gathering and attended social events. Although they sometimes were humored by our difference in height, everyone at Cacapon Lake greatly admired Karen. Relatives and friends even began suggesting I take her for a wife. For three months we lived together, but were not fully romantically involved." Rolling his eyes and chuckling the Kestrel continued: "I respected her claims of wanting to remain a virgin until the right time."
"Her claims?" Captain Guenette laughed.
Casting an odd glance at O'Neal, the Kestrel said: "A fool in love." adding,
"Then came the time when my children were visiting kin among the Upper Cacapon. It was the first time we had been alone together overnight in my home. Karen cooked a fine dinner of grouse, morels and ramps and after we ate, she opened a big bottle of berry brandy, sat it on the table, stoked up the fire, then excused herself for a short while. Pouring two cups, I waited, but as the minutes of nervous anticipation dragged on, I drank a cup and found it to be exceptionally good. Needless to say, I had drank three more by the time she returned wearing naught but an almost transparent wispy little gown. What a vision of beauty she was, standing in front of the fireplace while I took in every curve of her shapely body. Karen then straddled my lap while begging me to rip off her gown and expressed a desire for a wild rough roll on the bearskin rug."
"She still has that rug." Irving grimly stated.
"She still lives in my home, when not at her official residence at Berryville." The Kestrel returned then the usual smile vanished from his face. "When I awoke she was gone, but thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. Around noon a hundred mounted troopers from Winchester rode to Cacapon Lake and tried to arrest me for violating Lady Karen. Of course my people did not believe this and demanded the troopers leave Cacapon Lake. This they did vowing to return with an army. We thought it best to leave Cacapon Lake and settled with kin living a good distance northwest in the mountains. David Light who had just usurped power from the mayor of Winchester built Fort Capon built on the Cacapon River and took over Cacapon Lake restoring it's old name Lake Holiday. He turned our community into a resort town. My home is now her vacation villa where she has accused a few others like you and I Irving of sexual assault."
"That will mess up a gal's social life once word gets around." Vanwerden stated, adding: "I think she really wanted me."
"Until that witch tires of you, the skank she is." The Kestrel said with a smile.

The Cacapon chieftain kept a close eye on Irving whom during his tale about Lady Karen, steadily drank and sometimes drooled. He suspected something was not quite right regarding the Vice Mayor's demeanor. Whispering into the same warrior's ear, the man sprinted off again...

[Atehequa]

The prisoners and four more cannon were brought up to Great North Mountain from Fort Capon later that day by Captain Kirby's company. Both Harlow and Guenette were present when trooper captain Gaines, his few officers, a portly business owner named Hogge, two brothel madams and the three morning star priestesses arrived at the new gaol which consisted of one large dorm cell and three smaller ones. Gaines, his officers, Hogge and the madams shared the the large one while the priestesses were isolated from each other in the smaller cells a good distance from each other. From the time of their capture none of these strange pale, flamed haired women had uttered a single word. However their baleful yellow eyes glared like caged panthers. Black Anne Guenette suggested sending the priestesses' heads to General Light as a way to get this war finished up in a hurry. In all truth these morning star sisters made Captain Guenette's hackles rise and she had no doubt they were of Knutesian blood. With the exception of Hogge who complained a bit too much, the others were model prisoners. Gaines, his officers and the madams very much appreciated Ranger hospitality. Harlow provided them with food, tobacco, reefer, brandy and whisky. In return both of the brothel owners, somewhat attractive women, invited Harlow so as to express gratitude. "After we win the war I shall consider and most likely will accept." Captain Harlow replied with an ogle and smile.

Stepping out of the gaol, Captains Guenette and Harlow were overjoyed to see seven hundred more volunteers riding into the encampment. These were men from Buena Vista, Lexington and surrounding areas. No sooner did they arrived, outriders from the southwest galloped in bearing news that two thousand Galaxian horsemen along with a thousand of their Iron Mountain neighbors. Another council of war would be held that evening once the new arrivals settled in. Now with reinforcements coming in the mood at the Captain's camp was a bit more upbeat.Soon to be over ten thousand strong, aside from Irving, all present felt a boost of confidence. Continuously quaffing liquor, the Vice Mayor of Bedford and former Ranger Captain seemed not his usual self. Occasionally he would stare off into space and mumble unintelligibly. Taking notice of this strange behavior, O'Neal asked: "Irving, what exactly happened while you were in the custody of those folk?"
"How can you hope to defeat them?" Irving muttered.
"Say what?"
"Why do you want to defeat them?"
"You best slack up on that joy juice and get a fucking grip!" O'Neal snapped. "Now what happened after you were captured?"
Irving's jaw went slack for a moment then it seemed he began to regain some sense of the matter. Lighting a pipe, the Vice Mayor recounted his days in captivity. "From Lake Holiday Ranger Custalow and I were taken to Fort Capon and held there overnight. The next morning more troopers arrived as our escort to Winchester. We hadn't got less than a mile away from Fort Capon when Custalow was pulled aside by three troopers as the rest of us moved on. It was the last I saw of him. Tell me, did he make it back here?"
"His body did at least, we buried it under a mound of rocks and enemy weapons atop the ridge. Now go on Irving, what happened in Winchester?"
"I was held under guard, but otherwise treated well. General Light paid a visit to inform me that I was being held pending investigation of my lecherous behavior while in the company of Lady Karen of Berryville, but after a few drinks with him he suggested I consider taking a job as a training officer in his army."
"Of course you refused." O'Neal grunted.
"Stalling for time I requested a bit of time to consider."
"So they locked you up for awhile. No rough interrogations?"
Oddly enough, Irving smiled as if about to reminiscence about a fond experience. "For three days and two nights I was interrogated by an unnaturally beautiful woman of Knutesian blood who did everything possible to get inside my head, but failed. I endured an array of questions, browbeating, threats of a painfully slow death and the possibility of an extremely intimate relationship."
"Which you refused." Vanwerden chuckled. Irving gulped down a bit more whisky and slurred: "On the second night she dismissed my guard outside and produced two big bottles of brandy then attempted to seduce me." At that O'Neal issued a low rumbling growl, but Harlow laughed and said: "Of course you withstood all temptation."
"Not knowing if I was going to be killed or die in prison, my decision to enjoy dinner, drinks and the company of a highly seductive beautiful woman seemed the best course, especially after she danced naked atop the table. Kerri got so inebriated she obviously forgot her game plan so we drank and screwed all night. In fact the next morning I had to summon the guard to remove her unconscious form from my suite."
"Do what?" O'Neal snapped off, adding: "Intimate dinner, brandy, beautiful woman, table dance, table and suite, you say? Oh what horrors! And here we imagined you being tortured in some dim, dank dungeon. Leave it to you, Irving to get boozed up and laid deep in the heart of enemy territory."
"The critter was probably in season and wanted to breed in hopes of birthing a part Knutesian bastard with Irving's good qualities." Black Anne stated. "They're all about the selective breeding."

It was crowded around the council fire that night. Ranger Captains, leading Rangers, volunteer leaders, Galaxian cavalry officers, the Kestrel, his chief warriors and a gaunt fellow clad in a buck's hide with head and antlers fashioned into a headdress. his only other garment was a loincloth. Like the Kestrel, this fellow's body was painted with swirls and intricate designs. Chieftains and warriors from the Iron Mountains appeared just as savage. O'Neal was proud to be in the company Appalachia's most fierce fighters. Harlow rose from the ground with both hands held aloft. Lowering them he opened the council. "My friends, first let me thank all of you for joining together against an old adversary, the despotic rule of those who would subjugate us all. It seems the descendants of Conrad Knuteson have rallied to reclaim their old kingdom in the Shenandoah Valley. Already they have taken the northern valley and are spreading in all directions."
"Then why are there no men from Front Royal, Luray, Waynesboro and some of the other valley towns here with us?" Asked Raccoon Dreaming, a chieftain from the Iron Mountains.

"No doubt waiting to join a winning side." The Kestrel said without rising. "However there is the risk of Staunton, Harrisonburg, Roanoke, Bristol and Kingsport coming against us. Hopefully we can count on the assistance of western Maryland and Pennsylvania. Those whose ancestors ruined Conrad's dreams of empire hundreds so long ago. Now it is us who must triumph against these devils, but in doing so must accept the fact that nothing is certain and we will suffer losses."
"Now there are more of Conrad and his sister's spawn." Raccoon Dreaming stated, "North of the Iron Mountains is the natural fortress and underground realm of Knutesia. It's like a great ridge rimmed bowl. These creatures steal forth at night to murder good people and take children from their beds. Their monstrous ogre kin haunt just outside of the great bowl falling upon travelers and eating them. These Knutesians hold sway over the towns of Princeton, Bluefield, Tazewell, Wytheville and surrounding communities. Here of late they've sent forth their part human mesmerizers and enchantresses to capture the hearts of other Appalachian leaders. It is said they can change their form into beasts." Those words brought about an uneasy murmuring from many of the assembled allies.
"We are in for a strange struggle, my friend." said the Kestrel with his hand extended to Raccoon Dreaming. Then it was O'Neal who spoke. "This is the battleground for now. We hold the wooded heights. They will most likely come in large numbers at us from the east and north, but may attack from the south and west. We do have the advantage of terrain and the best fighters Appalachia has
to offer."

On a cowhide Harlow had sketched out the area with charcoal and he went over battle plans. Captain Wind Hinz of Galax politely interrupted by asking: "How are we to deploy our cavalry in these thick woods?" Harlow began to speak but was cut short by Ranger North. He addressed his Galaxian kin. "After we whittle them down a bit in these hills then all of us will ride down into the valley and finish this."
"It will hardly be finished."stated Raccoon Dreaming. "There's a shitload of them nesting in the southwest."
"A bloody conflict that could last for years." added Kestrel.

Aside from Irving all present back at the Captain's camp drank sparingly, but indulged in the fine Cacapon and Iron Mountain reefer. From Captain Hinz they learned that Donald of Craig and Lady Katrina's wedding date had been set back because of a major spat between the two. "Word has it that witch Katrina wanted Donald to send ten thousand Star City dragoons up here."
"To assist us?" Harlow laughed.
"Not us." Hinz replied. "He flat out refused, but from our sources he plans to send a two hundred dragoon envoy who are supposedly going to request we depart and disband. We heard that Katrina got so pissed, she left for Wytheville."
"So the little strumpet wants to do us in, eh?" Irving slurred. "Still we should consider Donald's request and think about going home as General Light is only interested in holding on to the northern valley." Taking another big swig of whisky, Irving asked: "Why waste thousands of lives just because we don't agree with these folks and the way they manage their own affairs. I tell you boys, I'm still a firm believer in good diplomacy." At that there was an angry murmuring from all present and suddenly O'Neal stood up and inquired: "What about our friends the Cacapons? What about Captain Guenette and Kirby's kin in the central valley? What about the folk down in Lost River Valley?"
"All graced by the benevolent leadership of those who want to bring unity to all Appalachia from the cold north to the warm south." Irving replied.

It was then the Kestrel issued a shrill cry and slowly his antlered shaman stood up while carefully holding a long bone that had been fashioned into a tube. As the antlered one advanced towards the Vice Mayor who thought the bone was a pipe stem he merely laughed upon hearing: "You need a light for that, Stagwood?"
"The name is Bucksnort, lost one and there is just enough light for me to administer this."
"Administer what?"
With the speed of a striking rattlesnake, Bucksnort lifted the tube to his lips and blew out a cloud of brown dust into Irving's face.

After a few short gasps the Vice Mayor of Bedford toppled like a sack of potatoes.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" Harlow demanded as he went to Irving's side all the while keeping an eye on Bucksnort and that bone tube. The antlered shaman nodded his head, grinned and sat down.
"Attempting to heal him, Captain Harlow. A dried, ground mixture of healing herbs and other agents. Captain Irving will be peacefully asleep for two days or so." The Kestrel replied. O'Neal now squatting by Irving asked : "So why did he have to be put out?"
The Kestrel regarded O'Neal with a smile and serious blazing blue eyes. "Because all that liquor he was guzzling was weakening both his body and will. I've suspected that Irving has been under Knutesian influence even before leaving Bedford with you, but more so since being released from his incarceration in Winchester. What else would of prompted him to willingly go with a small party of Rangers into a death trap and the big question is, Captain O'Neal is why you went with him?"
"What do you mean by that, Kestrel?"
"Who or whatever got into Irving's head before his visit to the northern valley also wanted to take you out. Have either of you had any relations with those of Knutesian blood, perhaps their women?"
"Hard to tell what Irving has poked on his drunken travels." Vanwerden laughed. At that Bucksnort cleared his throat and spoke.
"All it takes is a deep kiss or one of them putting something in your drink. These Knutesians are crafty and masters of deception, but some are not even aware of their heritage until reminded or awakened. They are of an ancient race whose essence was gathered and instilled into Conrad's mother long ago. Thousands of years ago, they ruled the world, but by the time of Kyle Knuteson, there were only a few scatterings of them left. We don't even know what they once called themselves. They were a type of human, but not like us. Theirs has always been an elitist society. The pure blooded ones as rulers, but they bred with other humans to create loyal subjects. They almost interbred themselves out of existence. Most humans have at least a trace of their blood. Never have they been content by living in harmony with others, theirs is a life consumed by greed. If the pure, half and quarter Knutesians can be eliminated, their bad characteristics will eventually dissipate. Allow them to continue breeding and all human kind will be under their rule. Lady Karen, a quarter Knutesian was originally instructed to woo our chieftain into marrying her and producing mixed offspring who would be loyal to Crotalus, but she detested him too much, but did desire our old village at Lake Cacapon." Casting a glance at the Kestrel, Bucksnort continued: "Our chieftain was worse off than Irving, Kestrel pined away for that witch and for awhile thought indeed he had in a drunken state violated her. He was healed in the same manner as this one." Pointing a bony finger at Irving. "When he awakes keep him from hard drink."
"What Bucksnort said is true." Kestrel stated after puffing on his pipe. "The witch held me spellbound. I cared little about my people being displaced from their homes at Cacapon Lake. All I wanted was to get back with her even if she wanted me dead. If it wasn't for Bucksnort and other wise Cacapon, I would of either been serving Crotalus, or dead by his people's hands. Fortunately Bucksnort quickly noticed my soul's safety had been compromised and knew what to do. Now I pay all Knutesians the same attention as I do deer flies, mosquitoes and ticks. Bloodsuckers to be swatted and mashed.I suggest that Captain Irving be transported with the wounded to Lost River Valley tomorrow morning and kept under guard and away from liquor. In a week or so he will be the Captain Irving I once knew."

Thinking of Lady Murlina upon hearing Kestrel speak about moving Irving to Lost River Valley gave Captain O'Neal an idea. He could get a letter to her and already started composing it in his head as fellow Rangers carried Irving away. Kestrel patted Irving's shoulder as he was carried passed him and spoke of his earlier association with the former Ranger Captain. "A few thousand brigands from Morgan Town rode southeast and took over the towns of Moorefield and Petersburg on the Potomac's headwaters. Using these captured towns as a base they raided and pillaged surrounding areas. Captain Irving had came up from the south with a thousand men, while I led fifteen hundred Cacapon from the northeast. We met on Elkhorn Mountain near the brigand strongholds. I suggested to Irving that we send spies into Moorefield and Petersburg, but he said that it would be a waste of good men by sending them into a deathtrap. A show of force and sudden attack sent what was left of those brigands back where they came from. That is why I suspected Irving either had become dotard in his elder years or else was bewitched. Why else would he think peace could be established by the soft scolding of diplomacy? He felt that a letter from Mayor Craig and his self seemingly smooth talk could bring about a lasting peace with these Knutesian devils. Although a blunderer, David Light is not a complete fool. No doubt he had received news that Ambassador Irving and his party were coming to both tell them to cease aggression against their neighbors as well as to spy. Irving led good men to their deaths by attempting such."

O'Neal was no longer listening to Kestrel, instead he looked for a pen and writing paper for his letter.


Ranger Kevin Benton having made accommodations for the wounded fighters, could now deliver Captain O'Neal's letter to Lady Murlina of Bryce. A spindly young man with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Benton was for the most part socially awkward, the result of a childhood spent on an isolated mountain farm by the Cowpasture River. Making his mind up to join the Rangers at seventeen years of age instead of tolling away with his two brothers, one sister, father, mother, cousins, uncles and aunts and their neighbors fifteen miles away, the Holloway clan eking a living growing crops in the rocky soil.As all the Holloway girls left to marry were horse faced nags along with not wanting to marry a cousin and falling dead in mule shit while plowing like his grandfather, Kevin Benton first became a volunteer assisting Rangers in fighting the lowlanders. An excellent marksman and possessing astonishing woodcraft, Benton was asked to join the Rangers. In spite of all his good qualities, he was extremely shy around women. Last year in a misguided friendly gesture, Ranger Vanwerden set Benton up on a blind date with a Blacksburg prostitute all paid for in advance. However Vanwerden did not choose well and Benton's date was a rather rude mannered tavern wench who only offered a quick 'in and out' instead of paying a bit more silver for better quality. Needless to say the older whore spooked young Ranger Benton and he bolted before she could get his trousers off. When Vanwerden ribbed Benton for chickening out and wasting his silver, O'Neal suggested he get his due from the rude smelly wench instead.

Walking into the Lost River Inn, Ranger Benton had no inkling what was in store for him. The desk clerk informed him that Lady Murlina was in the lounge. Not being one who frequented or even visited taverns, Benton was uncomfortable with such surroundings, but none the less spotted Lady Murlina setting at a table with the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. Feeling his thin legs shaking, he managed to approach the table and stammer: "Excuse me,, Lady Murlina,,, I've come with a letter,,,from,,,Captain O'Neal." Hand shaking, he thrust forth the letter almost knocking over a bottle. With a smile Murlina thanked the young Ranger, but Kitty seductively licked her lips and asked: "So what's your name, my brave captain?"
"Ranger Kevin Benton,,,ma'am,, but I ain't a captain."
"Such a noble bearing, I couldn't imagine you to be anything less than a Ranger Captain or perhaps even a young lordling."
"No ma'am,, I'm only a Ranger." Benton replied now very much captivated by the woman's unusual beauty and enchanted by her golden eyes. Patting her hand upon an empty chair, Kitty invited Benton to sit and poured him a glass of brandy while Murlina opened and read Captain O'Neal's letter.

My sweet Murlina,

With every night passing up here, I miss you even more. It is in my hopes you are faring well down there in Lost River Valley. Sometimes at night I feel like sneaking away and riding like the wind just to be with you if only for a short time. When this conflict is over I will return to you and we'll spend much time together.

You are in my heart and dreams,

John O'Neal.

Calling for a server to bring her a pen, inkwell and paper, Murlina scribbled down several words. folding the paper, she gave it to Ranger Benton, who could barely divert his attention away from Kitty who inquired if he was in a big hurry to get back.


A day later than expected, Captain O'Neal got his written reply -

Dear John,

Don't worry about me as I'm doing rather well. Do go on and fight your war. If it doesn't take that long and if you happen to survive, then perhaps we can get together.

Murlina.

It wasn't what O'Neal expected, but was better than no reply at all or a really bad Dear John letter . More troubling was Ranger Benton's demeanor. The young man seemed drifty and blathered about hitching up with a vixen he had met down in Lost River Valley after the war. At this Vanwerden laughed and said: "Benton is finally a man." O'Neal however stared off to the south, his thoughts were of the woman he left behind in Lost River Valley. It was the Kestrel's shrill call into camp that somewhat brought Captain O'Neal around.
"Greetings my friends, I see your men have returned from Lost River Valley unscathed. How do the people fare down there?"
Harlow snapped his fingers at Benton as if to bring him out of a daze. "Ranger Benton, how are our comrades and the resident's doing down at Lost River?"
"Oh everyone is just fine down there, but at the Inn, I met and spent time with the woman of my dreams."
"Oh really?" chuckled Kestrel and bade Benton: "Do tell, young man."
Ranger Benton closed eyes, smiled and softly said: "Lady Murlina's friend Kitty, oh she is as beautiful and warming as the rising sun."
At that Kestrel shot O'Neal an odd glance and wanted to know if they had anything else for Ranger Benton. Taking this hint, O'Neal dismissed the young Ranger.

"It could of been just an encounter with someone Lady Murlina has befriended down at the Inn. After all that valley is nothing but a resort area and home for high society types, but still many people come to and go from there. It's not uncommon for the wealthy from Harrisionburg, Staunton, Luray, Waynesboro, or even the affluent from Winchester to visit Lost River. Perhaps it would be a wise measure to send an older more experienced Ranger to keep a close eye on things down at the Lost River Inn. Find some decent clean civilian clothes to wear, give him a pouch full of gold coins and instructions to carry on as a country gentleman of Warm Springs up for some recreation and reveling."
"I volunteer!" roared Vanwerden with his hand raised high. Harlow laughed and said: "Oh hell no, besides she knows you too well." O'Neal seemed rather put off by the Kestrel's suggestion. "What are you proposing, someone to spy on Murlina? That's just wrong." The Kestrel merely smiled and replied: "Since you are very much needed here, I propose someone going in your place to keep her out of harm's way as well as discreetly watch the comings and goings in Lost River Valley."
"Why not make it appear more convincing?" Captain Guenette suggested. Pick your pretend country gentleman and I will provide him with a pretend well to do country lady who is actually from Warm Springs as his fair companion." Stepping away from the Captain's camp, Black Anne returned with a tall well built blonde haired female Ranger who was packing two pistols and brass hilt hanger. Gentlemen this is Ranger Maggie O'Guinn, one of my best fighting women. We'll find some clothes for her to wear and anything else she can purchase down at the boutiques in Lost River Valley. By noon both Rangers Tye Jackson and Maggie O'Guinn were attired and provisioned as vacationers Alfred and Beth Withers. As they rode off Captain Guenette sighed, looked longingly at O'Neal then Harlow and said in a sweet tone: "Oh don't they look like a well matched loving couple off to enjoy the finer aspects of life? And Maggie, didn't she look absolutely beautiful with a little makeup and in my only outfit of civilian duds?"
"I can only imagine you in civilian attire and a little made up." O'Neal stated, his words born from a swift fond thought. At first he thought Black Anne's eyes were going to bore holes through his head, but her expression soften and she said: "Maybe you will one day, but that's probably going to be after more journeying and soul searching than most men can stand." Her words puzzled O'Neal and she could see that bewilderment playing upon his face. Anne caressed his shoulder and told him, "But I think that journey has already begun." She then symbolically poured O'Neal a cup of peach brandy, lifted it to his lips for a drink, which he figured was better than being disemboweled for insulting one of the most fierce fighters in these Appalachian highlands, especially when she was two thirds drunk on brandy. After taking a sip, O'Neal watched her lift the cup to her own lips, take a drink, then tossed what was left into the fire which produced a bright roaring flare. At first Harlow was dumbstruck while knowing full well what just occurred to be an open symbolic proclamation of a budding courtship in the traditions of some Appalachian communities. A little later he put it off as a drunken jest on Captain Guenette's part. O'Neal was just happy to have his intestines intact and not spilling out on the ground. Still he was somewhat intrigued by seeing a softer more feminine side of Black Anne Guenette.

As the sun journeyed westward it welcomed dusk before sinking behind a distant ridge. All through the evening Captain Guenette sat quietly beside O'Neal all the while keeping his cup filled and serving him food. Seeing he was even more puzzled by her behavior, she rose from the crude table, reached down, grasped his hand, smiled and softly said: "May your long journey bring you back to this heart." Captain Guenette then bade all a good night and walked away into the night. Without even looking up from the table, he was aware of everyone's amazed eyes upon him...

[stilltrucking]

past?

"In the last few decades before the great cataclysm, America was being hacked at from the outside and rotting inside. Poverty was at an all time high,rampant crime, police brutality, civil unrest, mental illness, greed and disease all overshadowed by the constant wars with resource rich Islamic lands. Then in 2040 came President Kyle Knuteson and his first Lady Kathryn"

[Atehequa]

"Our father will soon come and liberate us." The voice was rich and somewhat musical. Peering through the wide iron barred door light, Captain Kirby could not clearly see who spoke these words. In fact this was the first time he had heard one of them speak since their incarceration. In this gloomy cell he could only see a figure standing by the back wall. He thought it a bit cruel not providing these women with a lanterns or candles, but none the less heeded Kestrel's warning not to allow either inside their separate cells. Ranger Bill Carlton, a rather brawny fellow from Timberville stepped over to the door and growled: "Let him come, we can accommodate him as well!" Just as Kirby started to prod Carlton onward so as to finish their rounds, a pale face appeared at the door light. Gazing at this unusually beautiful woman, Kirby caught his breath as he had never seen her like this before. Since arriving here these priestesses were clad in hooded house robes provided for them from the spoils of Lake Holiday after their own garments had been confiscated, but now he could see this one's features rather clearly. Her beautiful face framed by a mass of flame hued hair falling upon well rounded shoulders looked as if it was chiseled from alabaster. She appeared to be quite naked. Closest to the door, Carlton leaned in to have a better look. In the same rich musical voice she said: "This shall be the last bit of beauty you will ever see, so get an eyeful now." Her baleful yellow eyes reflected the outer hall's lantern light like some wild animal. "Come on Carlton, let's move on." Kirby grunted. As they started off she venomously hissed: "Once he comes we will rip you into pieces, and I will keep those leering eyes of yours pickled in a jar of moonshine." Walking by the other priestesses' cells each located at separate sides of Harlow's makeshift gaol, Kirby saw these woman glaring out from barred door lights. Their burning eyes, shrieks, hisses and mocking laughter somewhat unnerved the two Rangers, but did not even awake the other prisoners who were sleeping off a drunk.

Hurrying into a large chamber which served as these appointed jailers' office and living quarters, Carlton closed the door and stated: "We should of sent these witches back to their own on horseback or in ten or so small pine boxes. Either way would of suited me fine." Taking a pot of hot chicory off the wood stove and pouring himself a cup, Carlton said: "They give me the willies, Matt. tomorrow night you can get someone else to help watch these critters." Extending his cup for a refill, Captain Kirby nervously chuckled: "Oh come on, Bill, we're both up in our years and too long in the tooth too be jumping streams or running over ridges like the younger Rangers. We're getting too old to dodge pistol balls or swinging sabers. Enjoy this bit of good will and a comfortable cot instead of the hard cold ground. It's imperative we keep these hostages as the enemy's concern for their well being at our hands is buying us time. More reinforcements are expected to arrive. What can these women do without their bags of tricks aside from wail, scream and hiss? Remember what the Kestrel said about not interacting with them?"
"Maybe the Kestrel and some of his fellows should be watching these she devils instead of us." Carlton returned.
"What's to worry about, Bill? We're here in an encampment containing thousands of comrades and there's three good men standing watch just outside. If the enemy gets through all of them, then we can fret."
"I guess you're right, Matt, we're comfortable old dogs guarding the hen house." Carlton then poured three more cups of chicory while Kirby unlocked and opened the main door. A fog had drifted in and he could barely see several feet in front of him. "Come and get ye some hot chicory, boys and at that he heard footfalls. First to come into view was Jake Strom, Jerome of Marlinton's young cousin armed with a rifle, pistol and smallsword. From his fine attire and plumed wide brimmed hat, Jake was as much foppish as Jerome. Word had it one of the reasons he volunteered for guard duty was to get a look at these beautiful northern valley women. Then came Rangers Duggins and Spivey, very much appreciative of the hot beverages on a chilly spring night. Jake inquired about the prisoners, but only getting a vague response, commented about the foggy conditions.
"Just keep your eyes opened, lad." Kirby said before going back inside and locking the door.
"What a jaybird he is." Carlton laughed as he sat down upon a cot.
As he lit his pipe there was knocking on the door. "The boy probably wants some sweet honey and cream for his chicory." Kirby chuckled as he unlocked and opened the door again.

Captain Kirby involuntarily staggered backwards upon seeing the horror which stood in front of him. Standing around seven feet tall, this creature seemed to be a monstrous blending of both man and cat. It's yellow eyes glowed like balefire while it's fanged maw was bared in a most sinister smile. In the lantern light it's thick mane was flaming red set against a white spotted tawny hide. In one clawed hand, Jake Strom's head, minus the hat and in it's other a cup of steaming chicory. While Kirby's shaking hand fumbled to draw his pistol the creature hissed: "You're absolutely right, old boy.This needs a bit of sweet honey and creme." then it dashed the hot contents of the cup full into Captain Kirby's face. Hurling Jake's head at Ranger Carlton and knocking him off the cot, it shuffled in followed by four others of it's kind that were smaller and appeared more female in nature. Still blinded by the hot chicory, Kirby managed to draw his pistol and aimed at the noise he heard. Fortunate for one of the smaller creatures, The charge in his pistol's flash pan was compromised by dripping chicory resulting in a misfire. With a stroke of her clawed hand, she ripped out the old Ranger Captain's throat. Ranger Carlton sat on the floor as if in shock as the large male and three of it's pride shuffled through the inner door. The remaining cat creature slowly advanced towards Bill Carlton while issuing a low raspy growl. Looking down and seeing Jake's head and then having a quick glance at Kirby gasping with his throat torn open, Carlton felt the searing fires of rage stir his soul. Lifting a huge dragoon pistol, he fired into the creature's breast, then leaped up with his knife and plunged it into her abdomen. Screaming in pain, it fell against the wall. While attempting to reach his rifle, the wounded creature managed to get in a terrible blow which knocked him across the chamber into a bloody heap by Kirby's now dead body.

"No my child, we have no time for that, these savages no doubt heard that pistol report. We must leave and get your sister Katlin out of here if she is to live." The large creature hissed.
"But I want that one's eyes, Daddy!"
"You can have all of their eyes soon once our army sweeps over them."
At that the five were-creatures and three witches vanished into the thick fog. One being half carried and leaving a trail of blood.

"Those fucking evil bastards!" Captain O'Neal growled through clinched teeth as he knelt beside the bodies of Matt Kirby and Bill Carlton.
"This one still has life in him!" Ranger Vanwerden shouted as he squatted over Carlton. Swiftly rising, he went for a pitcher of water. Dipping his neckerchief into the cool spring water, he gently wiped Carlton's bloody forehead.

"Oh fuck!" O'Neal gasped having noticed Jake Strom's severed head laying upon a cot, glassy dead eyes staring at the door.

"Oh no!" It was Captain Guenette's voice as she entered the gaol and saw her old friend Matt Kirby with his throat ripped out. She had heard the pistol report as well. "This is the devil's work!" Black Anne knelt down beside Kirby and Carlton with the others. Bursting into tears, she leaned down and kissed the dead man's forehead. Somewhat wobbly, she stood up, drew her hanger from it's sheath and swore an oath. "The heads of ten Knutesian witches for the life of Matt Kirby. The rich loot from their temple at Berryville for his family."

Rising from the gory floor, O'Neal drew his pistol and entered the inner gaol. As he suspected all of the priestesses cells were vacant. Tapping the barrel of his pistol on the big cell's door light bars, he roared: "Get up you people!"
Trooper Captain Gaines, moaned and slowly managed a slumped over sitting position on his cot. "A bit early for breakfast." He mumbled.
"Not breakfast. You're Knutesian sorcerer allies killed Ranger Captain Kirby and three good men not long ago."
"What?"
"You and your sodden cellmates slept through it."
"Not Matt! Did they kill Bill too?"
"He's still alive for now."
Gaines rose to his feet, regarded O'Neal with bloodshot eyes and said: "You're wrong about one thing. If those devils were my allies they would of freed me as well. Set me free, give me a gun and I'll kill as many of them as I can."
"We'll see about that, Captain Gaines, that is if you can keep your head out of the whisky jug for awhile." Leaving the cell area, O'Neal reentered the jailer's office only to see Jerome of Marlinton standing there with his smallsword drawn. "Where's the rest of Jake?" He demanded, murderous fires burning in his eyes.
"There on the cot, Jerome." O'Neal softly replied.
"Dear cousin! And I have to tell my Aunt, her only son's life ended in such a way. These bastards will pay!"
"And they already have paid some." Kestrel said as he, Captain Harlow and Ranger North entered the gaol. They dragged one of their own bleeding rather heavily away from this scene."
"Both dead?" Harlow grimly asked.
"Ranger Carlton is still alive, but he's been knocked senseless." Captain Guenette sobbed.
"Why didn't our pickets and camp sentries see them come in?" Harlow wanted to know. O'Neal looked out the gaol's open door and replied: "These devils came in with the fog and we can well expect a mass assault on our position now that our hostages have been rescued."
"What about Gaines, his officers, that merchant and those two whores?" Harlow asked.
"Aside from hangovers, they are unscathed and still incarcerated." O'Neal replied, adding: "Gaines has again requested we free him so he and his officers can fight for us."
"Why not?" Harlow returned and went on to say: "Send those others back to Winchester and turn this place into an infirmary. If Gaines and his boys want to fight, we'll put them into battle so as to prove their worth.

No sooner than they buried Captain Kirby and the others, a scout rode into the captain's camp to report that an enormous fighting force were slowly moving up Northwestern Pike.
"How many, Ranger?" Harlow asked.
"Thousands, Captain. I could see no end to them. Cavalry, infantry,
artillery units, oxen pulling cannon and wagons"
"North!" Harlow called.
"Yes Captain?"
"Round up two hundred of the best marksmen you can find, sneak down there and swiftly pick off as many officers and oxen as possible then get back up here alive."
"What then?" Guenette inquired.
"They'll no doubt send their cavalry and infantry speeding in, but we'll annihilate them in the thick woods."
"And if that doesn't work?"
"We'll fall back to our main position and pour cannon fire down into their ranks. We hold the high ground,," Harlow was interrupted by yet two more scouts riding in.

"Captains, thousands of black and reds are ten miles to the north of us moving down the smaller roads!"

At that the Kestrel assembled his Cacapon warriors along with a good many of the Iron Mountain men under Raccoon Dreaming. "We must hurry and contend with these Martinsburg ghouls, then get back to our comrades." O'Neal did not feel comfortable seeing two thousand men ride off to the north, but had confidence in these savage warriors. Leaving Captain Guenette and a thousand fighters at their lofty fallback position, Harlow, O'Neal and the others went to set up another ambush down on Northwestern Pike. O'Neal knew full well this battle would be harder won than the last.

Leaving twenty men to hold their horses, North and his snipers stealthily descended either wooded side of the pike on foot. Taking their positions they watched as the long column advanced. In the middle were the cannon and supply wagons slowly being pulled up the road by huge oxen. Here North's snipers would find the major officers. It had to be quick, two volleys at the most. Take out the officers and oxen then make a run for it. Lifting his rifle and taking aim at an ox's head, North gently squeezed the trigger. Then the thunder of almost two hundred other rifles followed.

Success! Ten plumed officers, several horses and fifty oxen fell. The oxen that survived were hampered by those dead in their teams, but already men were advancing up the wooded slopes like swarms of wasps. Reloading but unable to get a second volley off, North and his snipers swiftly fell back to their mounts. Leaping on his horse, he praised the other Rangers. "Good shooting boys! We fucked up their little parade, but now let us fly as I can hear many hooves pounding up the pike."

"It's North and his riflemen, hold your fire." O'Neal informed Jerome as the sniper unit sped by below. No sooner than they passed, a good three thousand troopers came thundering into view and were met by a barrage of rifle fire and a deadly whizzing hail of lead balls. Half of them fell leaving the pike littered with dead or dying men and horses. The others turned and fled back out of view.
"Get ready boys! Now they're going to come up the slopes at us. Find you some thick boles for cover and pour lead into them." O'Neal passed up and down his lines. Already he could hear Harlow and his men engaging the enemy across Northwestern Pike. Within a few short minutes O'Neal and his men were engaged in a savage forest fight. Firing, falling back and reloading, a good many Rangers along with their volunteers were hit, but far more troopers as well as mercenaries lay scattered over the wooded slopes. By the time both Captains joined together just outside the small abandoned village of Gore, all had quieted down for now.

"It ain't over yet, Johnny." Harlow laughed, his face blackened by gun smoke. With flint, striker and tender, O'Neal lit his pipe and grunted: "No shit, Harlow, but wait! What's that?"
"What's what?"
"Hoof beats!Take cover!" O'Neal growled as a horde of mounted troopers burst into view followed by thousands of running foot soldiers. The Rangers and volunteers raised their rifles aimed and fired, dropping a good number of troopers. As Harlow and O'Neal turned to fall back again, they heard the blowing of horns. Down the pike thundered two thousand mounted Galaxians who mowed down troopers and their mercenary fighters like ripe winter wheat. Those surviving northern valley men fled for their lives.

Trotting towards the Ranger Captains with a bloody saber in his hand, Wind Hinz dismounted and calmly greeted his allies. "Evening is coming. They're probably going to fall back and regroup and attack again at dawn."
"They're probably either going to hitch those big guns and wagons to horse teams, or else scour the whole northern valley for more oxen."Ranger North added, while riding in. He had took it upon himself to join his Galaxian kin in their charge down the pike.
"Horse teams, more oxen? We're going to have a devil of a time picking them off again now that they're on to us. Their flanks will be well guarded."
"We can't let them get those cannon and wagons up near our stronghold." Captain O'Neal stated. Harlow laughed then pointed to the east and said: "That bridge over the deep creek gorge about a mile back."
"What about it?"
"We'll blow it up just before dawn, Johnny and shoot down whoever is brave enough to attempt crossing or building another bridge."
"And when it's time for us to sweep down into the valley?"
"Give me a hundred Rangers and I'll have another bridge built in less than a day, Johnny boy."

Waiting outside of Gore until just after dusk with no other sign of the enemy, Captains Harlow, O'Neal and Hinz left a thousand man picket and made their way back to the encampment...

[Atehequa]

Night had fallen and still there were no signs of the thousands of black and reds. This was indeed odd as all Cacapon scouts had returned with no reports of enemy movement. Now thick fog slowly drifted in again shrouding wooded hills, road and warriors. "We should head back and form a skirmish line on the Northwestern Pike." Kestrel suggested to Raccoon Dreaming who was in complete agreement. The two chieftains discussed taking another route back that went through Lake Holiday so as to check on the picket posted there. Scouts were sent ahead of the main force while three hundred other warriors fell back as a rearguard.

Through this dense fog these mounted warriors traveled with little sound aside from the muffled clip clopping of their horses' rag wrapped hooves. On either side of their column warriors on foot moved through the woods sniffing out any sign of an ambush. Raccoon Dreaming marveled at those small warriors guarding their flanks as they crept through the forest without making a sound. He and his Iron Mountain fighters were glad to be in the company of allies who not only possessed superb woodcraft, but knew this area as well. Kestrel however was puzzled by the absence of a large enemy force reported earlier to be moving south upon a couple of small roads. Either they had turned back in fear of being spotted, or else were hiding at a place his scouts did not cover. One thing was for certain, these foggy conditions were not suitable for engaging the enemy. Kestrel had fought black and reds before at night and expected no interaction with them tonight, however he would not let his guard down.

The road led out into an open area just outside Lake Holiday. There the chieftains met the advance scouts. Now most of the fog had drifted southwards leaving only large raggedy shreds of mist. Their eyes adjusting to this gloom, they could see both buildings and part of the lake, but no sign of the posted picket. Mimicking the hoot of a barred owl, Kestrel awaited, but no signal was returned. Leaving a hundred warriors to guard their mounts, the others stealthily advanced into town. Once his home, the Kestrel now looked upon what use to be Cacapon Lake as a cold and foreign place, even more so now that it was seemingly devoid of life. Spread out in a crescent formation the warriors moved through this empty resort town and down at a open Lakeside green, they found their enemy.

Caught by surprise they scrambled to mount a defense, but by then lead was already flying. A volley fired into the massed soldiers, Kestrel, Raccoon dreaming and two thousand howling savage fighters rushed their enemies with other weapons drawn. The black and reds barely had enough time to lift their firearms much less take aim. Still some of their shots fell several dozen warriors. Now it was steel on steel. Armed with a broad two foot blade knife hacked into the face of a huge black and red clad soldier who went down like a slaughtered ox. Each time the Kestrel's ax licked out death was dealt. The clangor of steel, battle cries and screams of dying men was deafening. These black and reds were more proficient fighters than General Light's boy troopers therefore many of the chieftains' warriors went down dying. Now the fighting had spread into the streets leaving littered with dead men. A dropped torch ignited a barn filled with hay and soon other buildings were ablaze, still the battle raged on. While Kestrel struggled to pull his ax blade from a soldier's spired helmet, one huge mounted black and red officer charged the Cacapon Chieftain from behind with a ten foot lance. Thinking fast, Raccoon Dreaming broke into a sprint, bounded into the air and all but lopped this enemy's head off. Hanging on by just a piece of flesh, head along with rider and horse crashed into a hedge. Seeing this the nearest black and reds lost heart. Fleeing they cried: "Agkistrodon has fallen! Retreat!"

The Kestrel and Raccoon Dreaming's warriors slaughtered many of them as they fled town.

Dawn found these warriors making travois to transport their dead and wounded. The small picket they had attempted to signal for earlier had been found dead in a drainage ditch. Over the dead body of whom his men called Agkistrodon, Kestrel and Raccoon Dreaming stood bloodstained gazing down at what use to be an enemy commander. Having pulled off his gold chased spired steel helmet, Raccoon Dreaming grimly stated: "It was like chopping into a young oak. My hand is still numb." Unnaturally cocked to one side, the result of a near decapitating stroke, a head covered with short bright copper colored hair and face that looked somewhat inhuman. Dead pale yellow eyes stared up at the two chieftains. He was a giant of a man clad in a scarlet cape and loose black tunic over a shirt of glimmering silvered chain mail. "Lord Agkistrodon, pure blooded Knutesian nephew of Lord Crotalus himself. Raccoon Dreaming you have dealt a terrible blow to our enemy. Iron Mountain as well as Cacapon women will be singing your glories and your name shall be immortalized with those of other mighty warriors. Now Crotalus will have no choice than either leading the black and reds himself, or else flee back to his hole down in Knutesia. I only ask one favor my brave brother."
"And what is that?"
"If Crotalus comes at us, you leave him to me." The Kestrel replied with a smile. Pointing down at Agkistrodon, the Cacapon Chieftain suggested: "We should take this monster's corpse away from here and bury him deep in the woods."
"Why?"
"Because what Crotalus doesn't know will be to our advantage."

Cacapon and Iron Mountain losses were at a hundred and sixty seven dead with forty two wounded. The twelve hundred or so dead black and reds were dragged right outside Lake Holiday's northern entrance and heaped into a gory mound. Their weapons and armor were packed on captured horses and went south with the warriors. Inside a laurel thicket, they dug a deep hole for Agkistrodon. Believing them to be cursed, no one dared taking either his armor or weapons. All was covered with stones and dirt. Once on the Northwestern Pike, Kestrel and Raccoon dreaming met a Ranger patrol who escorted them back to their encampment.

"With Agkistrodon dead and his soldiers smartly beaten back, we may have a reprieve for awhile, but I assume Crotalus is enraged enough to mount another offensive. May I also suggest we triple the sentries around our encampment in case these Knutesian sorcerers turn themselves into beast and slink in with another fog." The Kestrel spoke from the large deer hide covered block of walnut wood on which he sat. Kestrel had recovered this and some of his other belongings from the house of one of Lady Karen's lovers vacation villa, before burning it down. The Cacapon Chieftain did not come out of the battle unscathed. There were numerous gashes on his body complementing older scars. The very tip of Kestrel's left hand middle finger had also been sliced off. Raccoon Dreaming bore a shallow cut across his face and a jab wound to the thigh.
"We beat Light's troopers back yesterday afternoon, but know they are massed just down the pike." O'Neal informed the two Chieftains.
"We fought them down where the bridge use to be earlier this morning, but after eating enough of our lead, they fell back even further." Harlow added.
"Excellent." The Kestrel said with a savage snarling smile. "There will be another big fight where they'll throw most everything they have against us and we shall pile up their dead as they come up Mine Spring Hollow."
"How can you be sure they will come up that way?" Ranger Vanwerden asked accepting the pipe from Kestrel hands.
"It's either that or try to move an army over those thickly wooded ridges. Trust me, I've been fighting these bastards for sometime now. They'll come up that road and creek bottom. There we will cut them down. Then we will sweep down and finish this business in the northern valley."
"Berryville" Captain Guenette said. "I will collect payment and burn that den of witches to the ground."
Kestrel cast her an odd look, nodded his head and stated: "Allow no guilt in your hearts in the slaying of Knutesian elite. The most effective way is to lop off their heads as I've seen these creatures rapidly heal after receiving wounds that would do in the most fierce Cacapon warriors. They can be killed as proven by Raccoon Dreaming last night at Lake Holiday. Kill as many of these monsters as you can and there will be less of them for us to contend with when we attack their den at Knutesia.

That afternoon Captain O'Neal and fifty other fighters rode to check on their line down where the bridge once was.

Along the high western bank of Back Creek Ranger North and over a thousand fighting men awaited another enemy advance and assault. All they could do was watch as a strong steady wind from the northwest rustling leafy boughs greatly impaired their hearing. They had driven back swarms of troopers four times since Harlow blew the bridge early that morning. The first assault began with a stream of enemy cavalry investigating after Harlow blasted the bridge into rubble and splinters. Ranger and Volunteer rifle fire raked the trooper column's front dropping a young officer and a number of others off their mounts. The rest turned and retreated. An hour later thousands of northern valley infantry attempted to ford Back Creek, but Captain Harlow, North and the others saw that none made it across. The last two times hundreds of lowland fighting slaves under the cover of poor trooper marksmanship and ineffective cannon fire attempted to lay freshly cut logs across Back Creek. Those who did not drop their burdens and fled were slaughtered. Just beyond the east bank scores of men lay dead or dying. Here near Along the high western bank of Back Creek Ranger North and over a thousand fighting men awaited another enemy advance and assault. All they could do was watch as a strong steady wind from the northwest rustling leafy boughs greatly impaired their hearing. They had driven back swarms of troopers four times since Harlow blew the bridge early that morning. The first assault began with a stream of enemy cavalry investigating after Harlow blasted the bridge into rubble and splinters. Ranger and Volunteer rifle fire raked the trooper column's front dropping a young officer and a number of others off their mounts. The rest turned and retreated. An hour later thousands of northern valley infantry attempted to ford Back Creek, but Captain Harlow, North and the others saw that none made it across. The last two times hundreds of lowland fighting slaves under the cover of poor trooper marksmanship and ineffective cannon fire attempted to lay freshly cut logs across Back Creek. Those who didn't drop their burdens and fled were slaughtered. Just beyond the east bank scores of men lay dead or dying. Now here at day's end, these Rangers and their allies had enjoyed a lull in the fighting since noon. An hour after the last attack, Captain Harlow departed back to their encampment, but not before thanking the dead men across Back Creek for bringing him such fine straight sturdy logs for his future bridge building endeavor. After that North commanded the skirmish line.

He was glad to see Captain O'Neal and fifty fresh Rangers ride in packed with food and ammunition. Ranger North gave his report with much recounting of what Harlow had already reported back at camp earlier. O'Neal heaped North and the others with praise then inquired: "So how far down the road are they now?"
"Just west of Hayfield licking their wounds, Captain. Looks like General Light will have to find another way of getting his field pieces up here unless he cuts a road through these thick woods." O'Neal looked to the north and said: "He could loop around moving his army and big guns down those small roads branching off Frederick Pike, but unless they rebuild the Hague Creek bridge that Kestrel took out, they've no other choice than going far out of their way on narrow forest roads where we can pick off their cannon and wagon teams again. They'll try to come down through Gore and move up on us on the Mine Spring Road. That's where we'll meet them with thousands of rifles and eight cannon. You heard about the beating Kestrel, Raccoon Dreaming and their warriors administered to Crotalus' black and reds last night?"
"Yeah, Captain Harlow told us when he arrived early this morning to blow the bridge. He said a mighty Knutesian lord was slain."
"Along with over a thousand black and reds, but they will come again. Kestrel is sending out Cacapon warriors to monitor their movements and take care of any of their scouts. He's figured they are going to attack from the north within the next three days. I'm leaving these fifty Rangers with you, but when we receive word from Kestrel's scouts, you're to fall back to our stronghold. Until then hold this creek."

Bidding Ranger North and his men farewell, Captain O'Neal headed back.

As dusk dimmed the wooded landscape, O'Neal rode up Northwestern Pike. The wind had finally ceased and an eerie dead calm proceeded. He could only see the road in front and behind him as on either side was thick dark growth. Aside from the clip clopping of his horse's hooves all was silent, not even a katydid trill, or cricket chirp. In the gloom and silence, he rode on. Approaching a fallow field just outside Gore, O'Neal heard singing, but it was no night bird or spring peeper. It stopped as he came to a halt. Scanning ahead of himself, he saw no movement in the field and surrounding woods, but felt a chill go down his spine. Even his horse was troubled, snorting and pounding hooves.

"Out for an evening ride, handsome?"

The sultry voice came from behind. Swiftly turning his mount around, O'Neal couldn't at first believe what he saw. Standing in the middle of Northwestern Pike was a beautiful naked woman, even in the grayness of dusk, he could tell she was of Knutesian blood. She was tall with smooth supple limbs and full bosom. A long thick mane of what he perceived to be fiery hued hair framed her lovely face and eyes that seemed to be aglow. He took in every sensuous curve all the while leveling his rifle at her head. Quite boldly she took a few steps forward with a noticeable limp. This had him glancing at the scabbed over wound on her leg.
"You're not going to shoot me again, are you, John?"
"How do you know my name, witch? Speak up now, or I'll blow that pretty head clean off!"
"Oh I know who you are, feeder of buzzards. Don't tell me you've turned woman killer as well." She returned advancing forward and with a stroking hand to his mount's neck, calmed the animal. Backing his horse away, he again leveled the long rifle at her. "Are you one of those sorceresses that escaped our gaol?"
"Hardly. I am not so devoted to routine and symbolic ceremony." She laughed, adding "I'm usually a free spirit, but now find myself bound to family obligations."
"What did you mean by asking me if I was going to shoot you again?"
"Oh never mind, John, I must of been mistaken." In a surprising move, she sat upon the road with those well turned legs stretched out before her. "Why don't you join me in enjoying this beautiful evening?" She invited tapping her finger tips upon the road. Then she asked: "Got any reefer, if not, my bag is right over there and I got some smoke that will take us over the ridge."
"Like I'm going to sit here and burn weed with a Knutesian witch." O'Neal growled than spat.
Now with knees slightly raised, she opened her legs a bit and smiled. "How many lonely travelers on lonely roads encounter beautiful women who just want to party? True I'm what you call a Knutesian, a people you and your friends have made war on, but tonight I'm just out and about looking for a little action on my way back home from White Sulphur Springs."
"You always travel on foot, naked as a jaybird?"
She laughed and told him: "My mount up and died some miles to the south, and my clothes became wet when I slipped in a brook. They are over there with my bag. If you allow me, I'll get them. That is if you don't want to see me like this any longer. Thrusting her hands in back of her as braces, she jiggled a bit for O'Neal. Somewhat enjoying this display, but having no trust in this women, O'Neal smiled and said: "You better stay right there until I pass and feel fortunate I'm not going to splatter your brains all over the road tonight." Keeping his rifle trained on her, O'Neal trotted by. A short distance up the road, he turned and saw her retrieve what looked to be a woman's shoulder bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out what appeared to be a bottle and drank from it. Almost immediately, the woman began to change form. Taking aim, he was about to fire, but his horse reared a little causing him to miss. Turning about he dug his heels into the horse's side and sped off as if death was about to give chase. Daring another look back, he saw those luminous eyes fade in the distance. O'Neal cursed himself for being enchanted enough not to have shot this creature when he had a chance.

Galloping through Gore, he made his way up the Mine Spring Road and soon ran into a friendly picket. Dismounting, O'Neal told the men to be ready, but after waiting an hour, she never arrived so he continued on. Arriving back at the encampment, he sought counsel with Kestrel and the other Ranger Captains.


"You should of shot that witch and nailed it's head to a dead tree." Jerome commented after hearing O'Neal's account of his recent encounter. Understandably he was enraged over the death of his cousin. The Kestrel rose from his block of oak, patted Jerome's shoulder, handed him his pipe and said: "If anymore of them come uninvited into our encampment, then we will do just that, but Captain O'Neal acted with wisdom. The Knutesian witch no doubt intended to either seduce or kill, or perhaps both. I've never known anyone who could wholly resist them. Captain O'Neal not only did so, but slipped away as well, acing that creature. It is said that only the full and half blooded Knutesians can change into were-beasts. If Captain O'Neal chose to fight that creature, there was a good chance of her getting the upper hand. He got away before the transformation was complete." Having said that, the Cacapon Chieftain issued a shrill cry. A few minutes later Bucksnort and a small heavily tattooed Cacapon woman entered the Captain's camp. Walking right up to O'Neal, she grabbed the Captain's left wrist wrists and sniffed it. Shrilly demanding O'Neal lift his buckskin shirt, she also sniffed his navel."
Having about enough of this strangeness, he backed away. "Kestrel what on earth is this about?"
"Knutesian!" She shrieked.
"What?" O'Neal was taken aback.
"You have laid with a Knutesian." The Cacapon woman replied while fingering a curious bone and talon necklace resting upon her bare tattooed bosom. Looking hard to Kestrel for an explanation, O'Neal then glared down at the woman and growled: "I did not even touch that witch back on the pike!"
"Perhaps not, but you have slept with a Knutesian within the last year. My nose and fingertips are never wrong. The scent and feel I sense is strong." Those words had O'Neal recollecting all the women he had been intimate with since last spring.
"Very strong." The Cacapon woman added. For some odd reason O'Neal kept thinking about a flame haired tavern wench he had spent a few nights with in Pulaski last winter. Although quite a looker, she had green eyes like Harlow's. Suddenly Murlina's image flashed in his mind and he thought of the beautiful woman on Northwestern Pike. For an brief time O'Neal could not differentiate the two in an amorous, or perhaps even a lustful sense. The manner the Knutesian carried herself, the way she looked and smelled reminded him very much of Murlina. Aside from her hair and baleful yellow eyes, she could of been Murlina. Feigning regaining some composure, all the while inwardly questioning his own thoughts and feelings, O'Neal stated it was probably the bar wench down in Pulaski, and poured himself a cup of strong apple brandy, looted from Lake Holiday. Going into her beaded doeskin bag, the small Cacapon woman pulled out a vial fashioned from an antler tine and with a flick of the wrist almost too swift for the eye to follow, poured some of it's dark red contents into O'Neal's cup. "Ha! You plan to put me down like old Irving?" He laughed pushing his cup aside on the table's rough hewn surface.
"Not to put you down." Bucksnort replied, "But to pick you up. Allow you to concentrate on as well as appreciated the situation at hand and current surroundings. Fear not Wood Thrush Woman's good medicine, she is a renown seer and healer."
The Kestrel regarded O'Neal with his steel blue eyes, smiled and stated: "You have come to help us and we have endeavored together as brothers in arms and sat around this fire in friendship. An indication my people or I would attempt to pull a fast one on you perhaps? No my friend, nothing like what Irving experienced as he required stricter measures. Drink up Captain O'Neal, and I shall even have one with you. Wood Thrush Woman if you will." At that the Cacapon woman poured Kestrel a cup of apple brandy adding the same dark red powder into it. He lifted his cup and asked O'Neal: "Just how good can you possibly feel on a battleground?" There was something in Kestrel's tone and his eyes which quelled O'Neal's apprehension. Lifting his cup he clanked it upon Kestrel's and like the Cacapon Chieftain, quaffed deeply.

Almost immediately O'Neal felt new vigor flow through his veins. There was a renewed appreciation of all his comrades and they appeared to him as quite gallant. Even the small Wood Thrush Woman seemed mysteriously appealing clad in naught but a doeskin skirt around her shapely tattooed hips, but while turning his leering gaze upon Captain Guenette, he found her to be rather alluring. Cocking her head slightly, she met his gaze. Clapping his hands, Kestrel summoned a fleet young Cacapon warrior and laughed: "Bring up our dancing birds!" With that the young man departed. Taking her eyes off the ogling O'Neal, Black Anne inquired: "What was that powder? It's got good Captain O'Neal horned up and drooling like a lovesick spike buck." Wood Thrush Woman lifted her tattooed hands to the starry sky and replied: "Springtime."

Latter the Captain's camp was entertained by five small half naked and tattooed Cacapon women wildly dancing to the thumping rhythm of hide drums. Kestrel drank no more hard spirits, but shared his pipe and reefer with everyone present. Harlow also kept sober as Captains Guenette and O'Neal were sitting side by side quaffing apple brandy. He could tell by the way those two looked at each other, they would be sharing a tent tonight. Hopefully they would still be comrades in the morning. Taking Jerome with him, he went out to inspect their encampment. As they were leaving, Harlow watched Black Anne take O'Neal's hand and amble off towards the spring pond. Taking another look back he saw both Kestrel along Vanwerden get up and start dancing with the Cacapon women. "One wouldn't think a war is going on, eh Jerome?"

Jerome of Malinton said nothing at all, instead he tapped the hilt of his smallsword and thought of revenge.

From yesterday morning, all through the day and night, no cannon fire had been heard. To the residents of besieged Bolivar it seemed an eternity. Up before the dawn as usual, Colonel Glanville Fitzpatrick this morning took his chicory on the outer western wall by his favorite huge cannon 'Susie'. Occasionally checking his pocket watch against the dark sky. Now impatiently tapping the cylindrical leathern case hanging from his belt he muttered: "Give me a good clear morning sky." Turning about Fitzpatrick gazed beyond Bolivar and saw rays of bright light shooting up from behind the Blue Ridge. Soon he would be able to see the distant enemy lines. Word had came in last night from a spy, that many of the besiegers were withdrawing and taking most of their big guns with them. Of course Fitzpatrick already noticed there were less of them yesterday morning after they ceased fire. Something was going on and he well suspected what. Now with the sun high enough, Fitzpatrick removed his long spyglass from it's case and had himself a better look. Scanning the west through his telescope, he saw only a very relaxed weak line and only five unattended cannon. The Colonel also saw that line had been moved further back. Putting the telescope back in it's case, he poured his chicory out. Removing a silver flask from his coat pocket, Fitzpatrick poured Captain Diggs Nevin some whisky. Taking a swig from the flask, he smiled at old Captain Nevin and said: "This confirms that jackass Light has big troubles to the west." Earlier Fitzpatrick had received reports from friends in Maryland that a coalition force from the south was clashing with Light's troopers as well as Crotalus' black and reds. It was even said that these Rangers and their allies had scored a major victory recently. Having another swig, he put away the flask and issued an order. "Diggs, I want you to tell the other captains to assemble three thousand militiamen, mounts saddled up and ready."
"Does this mean what I think it does, Glan?" Captain Nevin asked not able to hold back a smile.
"Captain Nevin, I also want you to get word out to our friends across the Potomac. Request they muster and prepare to join us in sweeping these pests from the field. While you're at it put together a supply train of wagons for an army on the move. We're going to bite General Light in the ass."

Captain O'Neal dreamed of the sea, something he had never seen in life. Greenish-blue water, low marshy islands and big wooden ships sailing in between them. Awakened by some racket going on above the pond in camp, the first sight he saw were two bugged out eyes, a flattened dark green head and wide mouth. A rather large bullfrog was inches from his face, looking at him. Rolling over he saw Captain Guenette laying between two wool blankets some three feet away. At least someone had brought him a blanket as well. O'Neal remembered quaffing more apple brandy and talking with Black Anne last night, but once she began asking him how he felt about Murlina, Captain O'Neal got extremely drowsy. Oddly enough he couldn't recall all that much about Lady Murlina of Bryce. She was like an unimportant decades old memory. Awakening fully rested with much vigor, O'Neal rose to his feet only to see Harlow staring down at him. "I let you sleep in an extra half hour." Stepping over to Captain Guenette, Harlow brushed a willow wand across her forehead. "Up with you Anne."
"Huh, what?" She mumbled.
"Your fighters await you two as the enemy is advancing southwards."
Black Anne swiftly rose and asked: "Where are they now, Harlow?"
"Cacapon scouts reported that twenty minutes ago they were entering Lake Holiday and set up their head quarters there."
"Then if they're coming they'll probably be here sometime before noon." O'Neal stated while following Guenette and Harlow up the thinly wooded rise. Harlow halted and turned around. "North has fallen back to that small one lane bridge we left intact just south of gore and I've sent another thousand fighters to join his command. He's to give those bastards at the most three volleys as they're making a crossing then fall back to our lines already forming at the wide mouth of Mine Spring Ravine and on surrounding slopes. He's leaving twenty of his best snipers along the way to pick off more of their draft animals. Our cannon are ready as so is our army. Let these bastards reap their just rewards"

O'Neal's grey eyes were upon a clearing surrounding Mine Spring Pond at the ravine's wide entrance. Having heard in the distance three withering volleys poured into the enemy's ranks and a short time later seeing North's command join their line, he expected to see the huge northern valley army start pouring in at any second. To the north he heard a good several sporadic shots as well and knew the snipers were applying their craft, but then that quelled. A grim uneasy silence hung about Mine Spring Ravine. Also trained down upon the clearing and woods beyond were the eight cannon captured from Fort Capon. Five of them were loaded with grapeshot while the other three were ready to lob cannonballs. Like many of the fighters, these big guns were behind battlements of felled trees and rocks. Guenette, Harlow and Kestrel had engineered this deathtrap rather well. Now the snipers were rejoining the ranks. Most every Ranger and Volunteer were armed to the teeth even having two or more extra rifles on hand. Many Cacapon women were behind the lines there to reload rifles and assist wounded fighters.

From where Harlow stood he could now see movement just north of Mine Spring Pond in the woods. Their army was massing just beyond the clearing and getting what big guns they managed to transport into position at the forest's edge. Then like a dark wave, thousands began moving into the wide clearing. Raising a pistol, Harlow fired up into the air and an instant later, one after another, the Ranger's cannon thundered spraying a deadly hail of grapeshot that tore through oncoming enemy ranks.

The Battle of Mine Spring was underway.

Then their six big guns spoke and one managed to destroy a Ranger cannon placement, but thanks to Guenette's gunnery, all enemy artillery pieces were swiftly rendered into pieces. Quickly loading their seven cannon with grapeshot, Black Anne's Rangers gave the enemy another hellish welcoming gift. Still they came on. Thousands of them poured up into the ravine. A thin column on horseback galloped up the narrow Mine Spring Road. Another round of grapeshot decimated their doomed cavalry charge. Now within rifle range the Rangers and Volunteers opened up on them leaving the ground carpeted with their fallen. In spite of this slaughter many of them were now coming up the wooded slopes. In the middle, at the lowest point, O'Neal, Vanwerden, Jerome and others were most at risk. Like a spear point the enemy jabbed at them in this rift. Rifles and pistols all fired, the fighters drew other weapons. With the clangor of steel came the screams and moans of dying men. Piling up dead enemies, Vanwerden wielded his hunting sword like a man possessed by some ancient war spirit. Jerome's smallsword wove a lethal blue flame. He seemed to delight in the avenging of his cousin Jake. O'Neal's tomahawk got stuck in the helmeted head of a black and red, but he swiftly grabbed the dead man's saber and hewed an oncoming trooper's head off. Three more rushed up as the headless body fell and O'Neal's captured saber flashed again shearing off a fighting lowlander slave's sword arm at the elbow. As the man shrieked, O'Neal lopped off his head as well. A black and red came at him with a spadroon, but he sidestepped, and struck the fellow's head a terrible murderous blow. Spired helmet, split open, but the impact had snapped O'Neal's saber near it's hilt. The man toppled with blood and brains oozing from under his helmet. Another young trooper wielding rifle and bayonet managed to get a jab in at O'Neal's left arm. Heedless of his wound, he grabbed that rifle barrel and stuck five inches of broken saber blade in the trooper's throat. He went down spurting blood and gasping his life out.

Catching his breath, O'Neal looked about and noticed the assault had slackened. Enemy fighters were fleeing down wooded slopes and joining others stumbling over dead bodies as they retreated from the ravine. Bleeding from a gash in his hip, Ranger Vanwerden stood over the body of a brawny trooper. The fellow's head had been split to his neck. "My second cousin Fritz, he cashed in on his inheritance four years ago and moved to Shannondale. I didn't figure on seeing him again like this." Leaning down, Vanwerden cleaned his blade on his dead cousin's gray and red tunic. Reloading his rifle and pistol, O'Neal then bandaged his wounded arm with a dead trooper's neckerchief. He muttered a brief condolence for Vanwerden's dead cousin, said some words for his fallen comrades then growled: "Bandage that hip, catch your breath then let's hound these fuckers out of the hills and back down into the valley!"

Taking up the fallen spadroon and it's scabbard, O'Neal hung this captured weapon on his broad belt. He also retrieved his tomahawk as well. Now bristling with weapons as were the others, O'Neal issued a war cry - "Never Again! Down at them!" That cry was loudly repeated all around the Ranger line as thousand of fighters charged down into the enemy's disorganized retreating ranks.

Already black and turkey vultures hovered over the battlefield.


For the northern valley army, retreat had been a bloody rout. Leaving cannon, wagons and wounded behind, they fled for their lives in no particular order. Over a third of Lord Crotalus and General Light's army lay dead. At Gore, General Light was captured while attempting to hide in an outhouse. Earlier a panic stricken mercenary had pulled Light out of the saddle and fled upon his horse. O'Neal yanked him out of the outhouse by his collar. "No quarter for you." Leveling his pistol at the captive's head. "Any last words before you leave?"
Having a frantic if not fantastic notion he could turn this bad situation around, Light displayed a bit of bravado and demanded to know: "Am I to be executed without a trial or have you deny me an honorable death in battle?"
"Your crimes are horrendous and you are like a mad dog who warrants naught, but a lead ball or an ax to the head. We have no time to round up witnesses and hold court, so what else do you request?"
"You came initially to spy at the head of an invading army. I'm a military leader and so are you."
"So?"
"So I request two great men such as ourselves settle our differences in a honorable manner. Weapons and a fair fight."
"Weapons and a fair fight?" O'Neal laughed. "You mean a duel?"
"The victor lives to fight another day." Light added.
O'Neal scratched his head and grunted: "What about pistols at ten paces?" An accomplished target shooter with both rifle and pistol, David Light grinned. He had won a couple of pistol duels, but failed to realize that his intended opponent was not the same frightened young men, unable to back out due to dishonor and embarrassment. Either with blades or pistols, Light had always picked such opponents carefully insuring sure wins on his part. Light's flamboyant swordsmanship and well placed shots during those past duels won the admiration of young militia men who would become the core of his new army as well as court ladies.
To him, O'Neal appeared to be both weary and injured. Turning to Vanwerden, O'Neal said: "Let me see your pistol." Now with a gun in both hands, he back stepped ten paces, halted and fired two shots into Light's chest. As Light dropped in front of the outhouse with a surprised look still upon his face, O'Neal growled: "That's for Rangers Custalow, Dolan, Ferris and Price!" So ended David Light's career as a puppet military dictator. Lopping Light's head off, Kestrel put it in a grain sack and placed his headless body back inside the outhouse.
"His lordship's new official residence." Gaines laughed.
Bringing forth two captive teenage boy troopers, Kestrel gave them the grain sack containing Light's head and horses. "Take this to Winchester and tell whoever is in charge while Dave here is away that it's all over. Tell them to raise white flags above the city if they want to be spared. If this is not done, I'll hunt both of you boys down and put your heads in that shit house with Light.

While fleeing back to Martinsburg, Crotalus dispatched black and red riders to round up his close family members from all parts of the northern valley. Later that night they held council in Crotalus' great tower palace.
"We'll be back another day, but for now gather up what spoils you can from here and we will return to our old home."
Sneaking out with a thousand mounted house troops and several pack horses loaded with stolen riches the Knutesians headed west leaving six thousand others to defend Martinsburg. To Crotalus' knowledge, they were oblivious regarding his departure, but in their defense of the city, would buy him and his kin time to put distance between them and the Ranger army. He even made magic that brought in a heavy fog to cover their escape, especially through Cacapon territory. Like a predator, Crotalus saw this as not some devastating defeat, but rather prey that temporarily got away. Already having a large swath of land under the sway of his kind many miles southwest of Martinsburg, he could put more motions into place for the successful usurpation of Roanoke and surrounding towns.

At Springfield on the Potomac River's upper reaches during a rain storm, Captain Guenette, Kestrel, Raccoon Dreaming and two thousand fighters acting upon Cacapon reports, caught up with Crotalus' column. Firearms useless in such wet conditions, they charged the Knutesian retreat. Those who could, drank their potions and turned into were-cats. Instead of fighting they bolted up into the thickly wooded mountains, leaving kin along with house troops to be cut down. Having fell off her horse, the badly wounded priestess Katlin and daughter of Crotalus could not get to her potion. She was promptly beheaded by Captain Guenette. While Lady Karen of Berryville pleaded to Kestrel for mercy, Black Anne lopped off her head as well. "Eight more Knutesian witches to go." She proclaimed then spat on Lady Karen's headless body.

Looking down at the bloody ruin of a woman he once took in his house and fell in love with, only to be victimized by her, Kestrel swallowed hard and grimly stated: "No quarter for these Knutesian bastard offspring." So was the fate for forty three other mixed Knutesian kin of Lord Crotalus. The coalition force and people in years to come would no longer be troubled by these hybrids.

Riding back towards their stronghold, they would join the others as they prepared to sweep down into the valley...

[Atehequa]

Having seen the severed head of General David Light, Colonel Aubrey Powell and his staff discussed options. All afternoon and into evening the pitiful remnants of Light's army had been trickling into Winchester. Out of all the factions which made up Crotalus and Light's fighting force, these troopers had fared the worse during this conflict. Over two thirds of their numbers were no more and those remaining now changed into civilian attire. Their uniforms were tossed into piles with any military paperwork and set ablaze. Their general dead and Lord Crotalus rumored to have departed in exile, most of these young men abandoned Winchester for family farms in the northern valley. Like the few hundred of them who remained, Powell and his several officers burned their uniforms as well. They also vacated their barracks quarters for rooms in an Inn, but only after raising white flags above the city.

Captains Harlow and O'Neal along with five thousand coalition fighters rode through Winchester's unguarded open gates. They were met by a large reception of residents and cheered as liberators by those who hoped not to be plundered or even slaughtered. Flower petals and short lengths of colorful ribbon were tossed at their horse's feet.
"My lords, we have prepared a feast in your honor." A non-military civic leader said with a sweeping bow.
"Enough for us all, I hope." Harlow returned with a hokey salute to this portly fellow who if it had been Light returning victorious, would be no doubt schmoozing up to him in the same manner. "First we want to see David Light's living quarters." O'Neal requested.

Upon approaching Light's quarters which was a sizable mansion and out buildings surrounded by an eight foot stone wall, they heard voices coming from within this compound. Three horses with trooper saddles were tied to a post near the gate which had been left open. Coming to a halt, Harlow, O'Neal and a dozen other Rangers slid off their mounts and slunk through the gate with pistols drawn. Stealthily treading up a flagstone walkway betwixt two thick boxwood hedges. Hidden in dusk's shadowy gloom, Harlow and O'Neal watched as a young man in the company of two others worked at picking Light's new double door lock. Hearing a telltale click, Harlow and O'Neal waited until they opened the big recently installed oaken doors then rushed these burglars. With over a dozen pistols trained on them, the three raised their hands.
"Alright lads, what are you after in there?" O'Neal growled.
"Speak up and don't lie, boys." Harlow added. One stout young man, obviously somewhat intoxicated slurred: "Liquor and a little spending coin, we were supposed to have got paid tomorrow, but with Dave dead, we figured on paying ourselves."
"Then you fellows are some of General Light's troopers?"
"Were." corrected another young man. "Dave's dead and that freak Crotalus has quit the valley."
Harlow scratched at the stubble on his chin and winked at O'Neal. "You boys realize we could blow your heads off for housebreaking, or at least lock you up as prisoners of war?" Just as one was beginning a sputtering plea, Captain O'Neal muttered: "I've had enough of killing boys like you. What I want to know are any of you that have been in this palace?"
"I have." replied a lanky fellow with a mass of wavy light brown hair. "For a short while I was one of Dave's new house guards after Crotalus killed the last two."
"Why the fuck did he do that for?" Harlow inquired.
"They were too slow in opening the doors for him. That freak kicked Dave's doors in last week and snapped their necks. I've heard that Dave was Crotalus' grandson."
"That explains a lot." O'Neal stated, adding: "So that popinjay was part Knutesian."
"Crotalus' puppet." Harlow said then asked: "Tell me, what did the regular citizens and you troopers feel about Crotalus and his Knutesian kin?"
"Well I can tell you one thing," the former house guard replied: "Dave sure hated him with a passion. Four days ago while he was drunk, Dave went on about enlisting more troopers and hiring enough mercenaries to take on Martinsburg. He was even planning to ask your initial diplomatic party, but Crotalus ordered him to have you murdered."
"Which he partially obliged with great glee." O'Neal snarled.
"Most regular folk here in Winchester thought Crotalus and his children to be of a superior type of people, descendants of old America's last great leader, President Knuteson. Dave and Crotalus were going to establish a new Appalachian States of America."
"Yeah how did that work out for them?" Harlow chuckled.

Entering Light's spacious living quarters, Vanwerden struck a light in a lantern and then two more. Now they could see the interior extravagance
of the former general's home along with the rich trappings of a looter and pillager. Walking through the front chamber and past a grand staircase, they entered Light's grand study. Hanging from the walls were trophy bear and buck's heads along with a few large paintings of the general in his finest uniform attire. "O'Neal noticed the former house guard's eyes keep glancing over at a tall bookshelf which appeared to be on rollers.
"North, Vanwerden! Move that bookshelf aside." O'Neal said while watching the expression on Light's house guard's face drastically change. Rolling the tall shelf aside revealed a heavy iron braced door with a huge brass padlock. With a slender dagger point and the boy's lock pick, Vanwerden soon had the heavy door open. As Vanwerden started to go inside, Harlow snapped: "Wait!" Picking up a cushioned stool from Light's bar, he warned everyone to step back and from a safe distance tossed it through the door. Even before it hit the floor there came the thunderous report of gunfire. As black powder smoke swirled about, Harlow held a lantern at the doorway. Mounted upon brackets on the back wall of this large chamber were ten big dragoon pistols all trained down at just inside the doorway. "Rigged on a trip wire." Harlow grimly stated then said: "You three boys start hauling those chests out here."
"What if there's more booby traps?" The stout boy nervously asked.
"Then we'll find out for sure when you fellows start pulling stuff out and opening it for us." O'Neal grunted. "Now get at it if you lads want to walk out of here with pay."

There were no more booby traps, and when the first chest was laboriously dragged out then pried open Harlow swore hard and caught his breath. It appeared to be filled with recently minted gold and silver coins all bearing either Crotalus' image on one side and a coiled rattlesnake on the other, or that of Light's likeness with a star on the flip side. Five more chests contained more coins, jewels and gold body adornments like armlets, bracelets, necklaces along with rings for ears, noses and fingers. A lot of the jewelry looked to be of lowlander origin. Paying these would be burglars handsomely and turning them loose with a stern warning not to tell anyone else about what occurred, the Ranger Captains made arrangements to move this bountiful booty.

There was enough riches to either buy a kingdom, or else create one.

Wandering aimlessly through Winchester, Kevin Benton along with a gaggle of young Rangers and Volunteers found themselves in a maze of backstreets in the more seedier part of the city. Fraught with taverns, gambling halls and brothels, these young men seemed to have found what they were looking for, especially Benton. Since his return from transporting the wounded and Irving down to Lost River Valley all he could talk about was woman he met in Lost River Inn and other beautiful women he would be meeting after liberating the northern Shenandoah. Of course his young comrades knowing they would soon be leaving Winchester thus having little time to court somewhat proper women thought of a less time consuming approach in the pursuit of their youthful fancies. Loaded down with coin looted from Lake Holiday and filched out of dead enemies' pockets. They were on a night's liberty and would make the most of it.

Usually a rather lively area, these streets and walks in this part of Winchester were all but empty. Ambling down one narrow dark street which led out to a wider one, they stood looking at a rather large tavern that was lit up and had at least some sounds of merriment coming from the inside. Above the entrance, a plaque adorned with a lance, saber and tankard hung. Above that a large sign which read - VANGUARD INN. Entering through swinging double doors, their eyes widened and jaws dropped once inside. Aside from a few well dressed, well to do looking fellows sitting in a dark booth across the room, the rest of this establishment's occupants were women of various ages, shapes and sizes. Large and brutish in appearance, a woman wearing a low cut midnight blue evening gown tended bar. The silver mass of curls was quite obviously a wig. Behind her, hanging by a braided rawhide laynard cord on a half driven nail in the wall, a particularly wicked looking shillelagh. A sign above it read - DON'T FUCK UP!

"Oh look girls, it's the young officers of a conquering army." Addressing them she asked: "And what do you heroic saviors wish to drink?"
"To the victors then to us comes the spoils of war." Laughed a rather shapely dark haired lowland woman clad in naught but a short thin white shift. Rising from her chair, she sashayed around the group of young men as if either advertising her wares, or else inspecting them. Standing beside a young Ranger from the New River Valley, she slipped her dusky arm around his waist and inquired: "Hows about a drink, sugar?"

Needless to say in little time, the young fighters were dispersed, drinking and mingling. With General Light's head in a grain sack and his army unpaid and disbanded, all the prostitutes had converged inside Vanguard Inn to form their own welcoming committee for these so called liberators of Winchester. No longer having thousands of paying troopers to entertain, they planned on making as much as possible off this occupying army. Winchester's ladies of leisure would attempt to give these young fellows the time of their in hopes they tell the others. A few of Benton's comrades had already accompanied a dozen or so women upstairs. Ambling about this large drinking hall, Ranger Benton was a bit more particular in who he was going to choose. Quaffing from a huge tankard of heady ale, Benton sized up a buxom blonde hair lass, but after getting a good whiff of her, he moved on.

In that dark booth across the spacious barroom, three finely clad men competed to win a lady's favor as she was no prostitute. From where Benton watched, he saw someone who looked familiar, but he couldn't be sure in the smoky gloom. Slowly approaching the booth, he now knew who this was. Halting ten feet away, he heard her politely dismiss these would be suitors by saying: "Sorry gentlemen, I'm spoken for, and here he is now." Upon seeing Benton, they figured it best not to trouble this tall young Ranger armed with a big pistol and bone handle hanger. Rising, these three dandies rolled their eyes at Benton who was eyeballing this woman from foot to head. Thigh high leather boots and tight doeskin breeches defined long shapely legs. A forest green waistcoat was worn over a blouse that had been unbuttoned enough to reveal a good part of her full bosom. Gawking at her unusually beautiful face and mysterious glimmering golden eyes all framed by a thick mane of flame colored hair, Benton hardly noticed she was packing a big dragoon pistol as well as a cup hilt rapier. "First time in Winchester, handsome?" She asked in a sultry tone. Hardly believing his good fortune, Benton stood and ogled the woman as she looked up at him with her bosom thrust out. Kitty! What are,,you,,doing here?" He stammered.
"Why looking for you, Kevin." She replied then started to gingerly stroke the neck of a brandy bottle. He failed to notice Kitty's other hand tapping her rapier's pommel. "I haven't stopped thinking about our last time together down at the Lost River Inn."
"I ain't stopped thinking of you either." Benton blathered, now lost in this woman's golden amber eyes. Batting them, a single tear streamed down her lovely face. "Oh I feared you may of fallen in battle. How I detest war and will be glad when this one is finally over."
"But the war is all but finished, Kitty. General Light is no more."
"I've heard." she returned with a weird glimmer in her eyes. "Please have a seat, Kevin. You must be weary after all that brave fighting."
Attempting to sit and stare down inside Kitty's blouse, Benton almost fumbled the big tankard, splashing ale on his shirt. Taking her eyes off the young Ranger, Kitty stared off at wall and said: "What a man that David Light was. It's hard to imagine he was once a loving mother's loving son. Think about how she would feel upon finding out her son's head arrived back to his home in a burlap sack."
"Captain O'Neal made short work of that brigand." Benton proudly, but ignorantly stated, forgetting he wasn't suppose to speak of such occurrences to strangers or in public. However,Benton was now feeling the effects of the heady ale tinged with lust. Kitty shifted her gaze back to him. "O'Neal you say? Well no matter, love, I'm glad you made it through all that old fighting in one usable piece, my brave Ranger. Say, I've a comfy room on the third floor of this establishment. What say you to joining me for a few private drinks away from these cackling crow humping hens? You can tell me of your brave deeds since we last met."
No sooner than that invitation left her lips, Benton drained the last drop of his ale and swiftly stood up. This was the woman who took his virginity and he had swiftly became overly smitten. Benton was glad to be soon enjoying her intimate company instead of a whore's. He followed her up the creaking wooden stairs as if in a dream.

"Have a seat on the bed and I'll make us a drink. Kitty then proceeded to remove her rapier, pistol and broad leather belt. Taking off the waistcoat, she playfully tossed it at Benton. With her back to him at a small oaken table, Kitty prepared their drinks.
"What are we drinking?" He asked while ogling her backside.
"Oh I'm mixing up something you'll just love." Kitty replied pulling a couple of bottles from a buckskin travel bag. Approaching the bed with two brown earthenware cups, she handed one to Benton and sat down beside him. Lifting her cup, Kitty raised a toast. "Here's to fallen enemy commanders and the brave men who felled them!"
"Here here!" Benton returned, clanking his cup on her's then poured it's contents down his gullet. Having a sip from hers, Kitty sat it upon a crude nightstand and requested: "Be a dear and give me a hand getting these boots off." After assisting her with this, Kitty stood up and slowly unbuttoned her blouse which she slipped off and playfully veiled Benton's head with. Unbuttoning her breeches, she peeled them off and stood before him naked. Her strangely beautiful eyes now were aglow. Taking his empty cup, she sashayed back to the table and mixed him another drink. Quaffing that one down as well, Benton began to feel rather strange. His breath came in short heavy pants as he gazed at the naked woman standing before him. Earlier Benton longed to make love with Kitty, but now he saw her as a goddess and himself as one of the ancient heroes, Old Irving told tales of. Looking up at her eyes reflecting lantern light like a she panther, he felt that his very soul had been surrendered to this magnificent being.
"Ranger Kevin Benton."
"Yes?"
"Do you love me?"
"You know I do." He replied as if in a trance.
"That's good to know, Kevin. Now there is something I want you to do for me, my sweet love."

Several minutes later, Ranger Benton with a glazed look in his eyes opened that bedroom door then began shambling down the stairs armed with his hanger and two pistols, one belonging to Kitty.

In a large public square and upon surrounding streets a large celebration was being held. Steers were roasting on spits over glowing coals and liquor flowed. Upon a wooden stage the same band that played for General Light and his brand new Army of the Northern Shenandoah some two years ago now honored the fighters who defeated them. Although this area of Winchester was crowded with people, a good many of the city's residents chose not to attend tonight's celebration. Light had transformed this town. Under his rule it grew into a wealthy city supported by an economy based on whatever the troopers collected through extortion as tribute and taxes or by pillaging. His officers and their families became extremely rich, but now that flow of ill gained wealth had suddenly ceased. Between band breaks, O'Neal could hear the wailing of widows, mothers and sisters coming from another part of Winchester. This had him wondering if war and victory were all that glorious. Recalling the stories he heard about the evils of Kyle Knuteson's pre-cataclysmic world and the atrocities carried out by his mutant son Conrad, O'Neal deemed this war waged upon their greedy Knutesian descendants as justifiable. It was far from being won as there were other Appalachian towns under Knutesian influence. He was sorely reminded of this as he watched Ranger Vanwerden escorting an officer of the Star City Dragoons towards his table. Knowing this man, O'Neal stood up and raised his drinking cup.

"Ahhhh Danny boy, welcome to Winchester!"
"Major Daniel Evans of Roanoke." Vanwerden had the courtesy to announce. "A patrol met Major Evans and his two hundred dragoons some miles south of town."
"I'm afraid to inform you of this, Danny, but you're late." O'Neal chuckled.
With a smirk, Harlow said: "But you and your men are welcome to come with us when we ride to Martinsburg."
Doffing his horse hair crested dragoon helmet, Major Evans loudly spoke. "Captains Harlow and O'Neal, by order of Mayor Craig I've been sent to assist in finding a peaceful solution to any impending conflict."
"Conflict?" laughed Harlow. "Captain O'Neal are you aware of any conflict?"
"Not I, Captain Harlow." Offering a cup of whisky to Evans O'Neal stated: "Now do you see any telltale signs of an impending conflict?"
"Looks like a party to me." Vanwerden added with a smile. Not accepting the offered cup, Major Evans spoke again. "Earlier I met men claiming to be former soldiers traveling southwards. They told me of retreating troops being fired on and the executions of officers."
"We only chased them out of the woods." Harlow returned, now about half drunk, but still amused with Major Evans.
"Where is General Light?"
"Oh he kind of lost his head and fell apart after his rabble of brigands were defeated. Don't worry Danny, the general is in a nice safe quiet place." O'Neal replied while noticing Ranger Kevin Benton's strange shambling gate towards the table. Coming to a wobbly halt some ten feet away from the Captains he drew two pistols and leveled them at the two men. "Boy have you lost your mind?" Harlow demanded.
"You killed her children."
"What?"
"My beloved's children!" Benton screamed with tears welling up in his eyes and drool hanging from his mouth. Attempting to take aim with shaking hands, Benton did not see Ranger North come up from behind him with a drawn saber. Instead of cutting this obviously deranged fellow down, North brought down the heavy pommel hard enough upon Benton's head to knock him senseless. No sooner than he fell, one of his young companions ran up to the captain's table. Noticing Harlow's pistol was trained on him, Ranger Leon Wright, somewhat out of breath stammered: "Don't shoot!, I was following Kevin because he didn't look right after leaving that woman's room."
"What woman's room?" O'Neal demanded.
"Down at the Vanguard Inn."
"Tell me Ranger, who was this woman?"
"Captain O'Neal, I believe this woman to be a Knutesian. I got a good look at her when she and Kevin here walked up the stairs." Looking over at Major Evans, O'Neal growled: "Do you now see what these Knutesian witches are capable of? You might want to catch Mayor Craig alone and tell him about these flame haired enchantresses and their monstrous lords, that is if you have the balls."

Arriving at the Vanguard with a hundred Rangers, Captains Harlow and O'Neal ascended the creaky stairs with Leon Wright. Opening the bedroom door, they found it empty aside from a bed, nightstand, dresser and table. "Looking for that Knutesian princess?" Wheeling about, the Rangers saw a dusky lowland prostitute standing just beyond the door.
"What do you know of this woman?" Harlow demanded.
"That was Princess Kitten. We don't usually see her on this side of town."
"Where did she go? Does she have another residence here in Winchester?"
"I heard she lives around, but mainly stays down in Wytheville, where ever that is. After the boy left her room, she walked downstairs carrying her travel bag, ordered a glass of raspberry brandy, drank it down and departed without a word only several minutes before you got here."

Returning to the square, O'Neal deployed some of the least intoxicated Rangers and Volunteers in hopes of either capturing or killing this Knutesian...

[Atehequa]

Having spent his time in Lost River Valley near the town of Lost City at Little Ridge Inn, Irving had a new perspective on life. Although Irving enjoyed a hard beverage or perhaps five in the evenings along with several tokes of reefer, he no longer craved it upon awakening. His days of non-stop guzzling until passing or blacking out were over. He now experienced much more clarity. During the days he assisted wounded fighters who recuperated in Little Ridge Inn and his evenings were spent in conversation with the Inn's proprietor Jimmy McFall, quite a bit a history buff himself. As a younger man, McFall had sailed across the Mississippian Sea. He told Irving of barbaric Ozarkian hill tribes and the great plains beyond. McFall had acquired a tidy fortune as a trader and sometimes a pirate which he used to build the second largest inn in this valley. Both he and Irving shared tales with the other fighting men left to guard Lost River Valley.

These Rangers and Volunteers stationed in Lost River Valley had received no news from the northern encampment since Kevin Benton and others brought down the wounded, so Irving would ride up to see what was going on. Ranger Goodman who had picked up a bad respiratory illness at Chimney Rock was seemingly well enough to accompany the Vice Mayor. Promising to send back news, Irving and Goodman said their farewells and headed north under a darkening morning sky. Riding into heavy rain just south of Lost River Inn they made for that establishment as Irving didn't want Goodman to relapse. Drenched and dripping they met Gary Tate in the lobby. "Oh splendid, I'll let Lady Murlina know you're here."
"Oh I would rather you don't." Irving returned with a nod. "Now my good man if you would be so kind to show us our suite."

In their second floor accommodations, they changed into spare dry Ranger attire and enjoyed a couple pipe fulls of reefer and a glass of brandy. Goodman again inquired about the failed diplomatic mission he was suppose to of been part of if not for his sickness at the time. Irving did his best to fill the Ranger in, but most of his time there he could not for some odd reason recall. Even his affair with Murlina seemed like the fast fading memory of a dream. For the first time since Irving embarked on this adventure he missed Bedford, his wife and home. Still he had made a promise to stand beside his comrades in battle. Irving longed to see both Captains Harlow and O'Neal who were like sons to him. Most of all aside from his game leg, he felt like the Captain Irving of old. Before lunch both men cleaned and oiled their weaponry. Leaving pistols in the suite, both men wore steel on their hips as they went to eat.

On their way down the hall to Lost River Inn's dining room, Irving and Goodman peered momentarily through an open doorway into the lounge where they saw Lady Murlina sitting with a very attentive young man. So wrapped up Murlina, he did not notice Irving standing at the doorway, but she certainly did. Murlina's eyes widened then seemed to glow for an instant then she swiftly shifted her gaze back to the young man. Clad in a fine dark blue ruffled collared shirt of imported cotton from Georgia, black leather breeches and thigh high riding boots, he also was wearing a rather ornate smallsword and dagger hanging from his yellow sash. By his extremely wide brimmed black hat adorned with egret feather plumes and his long wavy strawberry blonde hair, Irving knew this fellow as Nat the 'Stinger' Stevenson of Woodstock in the Central Shenandoah Valley. One of Murlina's old flames, Stevenson on several occasions rode down to Bedford and attempted to drunkenly woo her back up to Bryce. Each time she sent him away a sobbing, blubbering mess. Along with the Bedford town guard, Irving had witnessed a couple of his bizarre episodes. The Vice Mayor had warned Stevenson during his last attempt he would be arrested next time. Hearing that, the Stinger vowed to kill Irving. Moving along, they proceeded on to the dining room.

Looking out a window while enjoying steaks, potatoes and hot buttered bread they saw that the rain had slackened into a mist. Irving thought about continuing north after lunch, but knew these damp conditions would not be good for Goodman's present state of health. Finishing up with paw paw pie and apple brandy, they headed back to their suite, but did not see Murlina and Stevenson while passing the lounge. Back in their lodgings, They had a few more drinks and smoked a bit of reefer.
"Wonder who that dandy was sitting with Lady Murlina?" Goodman asked as he thought it was odd that Irving completely snubbed his traveling companion. "That Ranger Goodman is Nathaniel Stevenson, otherwise known as the Stinger. He is supposedly one of the deadliest swordsmen in the Shenandoah Valley. From what I can recall of what Murlina told me about him, he was sent to be educated in Blacksburg, but once there he fell in with a particullary vicious group of young men at his fencing lessons and participated in a good many duels. For the last few years he has frequented Bryce, squandering his wealthy parents money when not picking fights. It's rumored that his father is part Knutesian. Hopefully that is the last time we see either of them again."
"These Knutesians are weird folk, eh Captain Irving?"
"They are beyond weird, Goodman. Let us speak no more of them for now."

Still in a somewhat weakened condition, Ranger Goodman fell asleep right before dusk, but Irving was wide awake and growing bored with staying put in this suite. Having himself another glass of brandy and pipe full of reefer, he stepped outside into the misty gloom. Figuring a stroll through the gardens on this damp night would be safe enough, Irving made his way upon a long hedge side walkway all but lost in thought. Some fifty feet from the hedge's end, a dark clad figure stepped into view.
"Rather far from your usual haunts, aren't you, old man?" The voice was soft and lisping. Wrapped in a black cloak, his wide brimmed hat was a little damp and drooping as were it's egret feather plumes. Irving knew this was a dangerous situation and one of them would be dead soon.
"Oh I have been known to haunt many places, but what brings you out in this wet evening, Natty? Such conditions will ruin a gal's pretty little
outfit and lovely scented locks. Are you out looking for a horned up billy goat to pleasure?" Irving now tapped the pommel of his smallsword.
Stevenson laughed softly and replied: "Why should I be out looking for farm animals with you when there's a beautiful woman awaiting me in her suite?" Irving cleared his throat, spat, jerked a thumb at the inn and mocking Stevenson's lisp returned: "Oh you mean Murlina? Personally I'd rather fuck a nanny goat, or a knothole."
"Well old man, your days as a drunken rounder are about to end." Leaning his head forward as to get a better look at Irving, Stevenson added: "I just can't see what Murlina ever saw in you."
"Then perhaps both of you have bad eyesight." Irving laughed. "To me she at least looked a little better than the other harlots I've paid for. Sure you can afford her this time Natty? I don't want her running back to me crying about your lack of intelligence, taste and little prick again."
With that Stevenson removed his cloak and hat then draped them with great care over an ornamental plum tree branch. "Oh the great Irving, where are your guardsmen now?"
"Unneeded by me back in Bedford, I suppose, Natty boy."
"You just can't imagine the embarrassment you caused me by luring Murlina away from me. I had to run through two friends for ribbing me about the old fuddy duddy who stole my beautiful Murlina."
"I'm sure you're use to such shortcomings and embarrassment by now, Natty. Now let's see if your reach is any longer than that inchworm Murlina told me you call a pecker."

Hissing a curse, Stevenson whipped out his smallsword and long dagger then lunged at Irving who parried it with his walking stick then walloped the Stinger's head. Momentarily stunned, Stevenson backed off a few paces allowing Irving time to draw his blade. "Come on lass, the dance isn't over yet." Stevenson attempted another thrust, but swifter than summer lightning Irving sidestepped and struck his adversary on the buttocks. No matter how skillful his attack, Stevenson could not get past Irving's blade or walking stick. Then came the grim realization that the old Ranger Captain was merely toying with him and Stevenson stepped up his attaque au fer. Parrying another murderous thrust with his smallsword, Irving's stick came down upon Stevenson's head, knocking the young duelist half senseless. Blood pouring from his scalp, Stevenson staggered about blindly swinging. Knowing he had to finish this opponent off or else contend with him another day, Irving carefully approached to administer the coup de grace.

"Oh no you don't!" He heard then felt something smash into the back of his head. Then everything went black.

"Compare me with your dirty cheap whores, you son of a bitch!"
"Murlina it's you!" Stevenson slurred, blood still running down his face. Leaning down with the large rock still in her hand, Murlina listen for Irving's heartbeat but heard nothing. "Quick, help me drag his body out to those woods. In fact, wait here while I bring up a horse and we'll haul him out."
"Let me run this old bastard through and cut off his head." Stevenson requested, but was ordered not to by Lady Murlina. "No! We're going to make it look like an accident, that is if anyone finds the body before the coyotes, bears and buzzards scatter his gnawed bones."

Her eyes like two fiery orbs, Lady Murlina of Bryce left the gardens.

Captain Guenette, The Kestrel and some two thousand mounted fighters were a distance outside the closed gates of Berryville waiting for a reply regarding terms offered. They were also awaiting a field piece on it's way from their stronghold to the west. If no reply came before then, Guenette would blast the gates to splinters. Not wanting any casualties as there were guardsmen with rifles, swivel guns and small cannon on the walls, coalition fighters waited well out of range.
"What have we here?" Captain Guenette asked as she looked at Berryville through her telescope. At first she saw a group of defenders gathered on one part of the wall, then spotted a rope ladder dropping to the ground. Seeing a familiar figure in purple climbing down, she said: "Alright comrades, here comes our answer." Knowing this messenger was on foot, Guenette, Kestrel and Raccoon Dreaming had time to pass the Cacapon's pipe. Kestrel and especially Bucksnort wanted to come with Guenette as they were curious to see this Knutesian holy city. The more they could learn about these Knutesians and their arcane arts, the less difficult it would be to defeat them. "The next Knutesian sorcerers or sorceresses, we capture, please allow me to extract some information from them before lopping off their heads." Bucksnort reminded Black Anne.

Clad in a purple cassock embroidered with gold stars, Spirit Voice, priest of the Spiritual Inspiration Temple was escorted to Captain Guenette, Kestrel, Bucksnort and Raccoon Dreaming by two brawny Rangers. The priest as on his initial visit appeared not at all frightened by these coalition fighters. Guenette thought he had the bearing of a fanatic. Slight of build with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair cut shorter and pomade spiked on the top, his lips and eyes were painted like a Lake Holiday pleasure girl. A somewhat effeminate fellow of around thirty, he spoke with a high voice.
"We have considered your terms."
"And?" Guenette snapped.
"We cannot allow such negative energy inside Berryville."
"What?"
"It would be good if we all meditated for awhile. I've some healing crystals with me, now if you could all take turns wearing them and chant, then perhaps this bad energy will dissipate. I can,,"
"You can stop that babbling and give us an answer!" Black Anne's words cut the air like a whip. "Now you moon bug, will Berryville accept our generous terms and surrender, or do we blast our way in, cleave some heads, starting with yours and sack then raze your precious temples? Speak up quick, Violet, or I'll show you what a big dose of bad energy can do."
"You can kill me, but I'll come back in another life."
"Then I'll keep killing you until you're forever dead or the cows come home!" Black Anne growled and drew her hanger. It was then the sound of creaking wooden wheels were heard and a rather large captured cannon along with a ammunition wagon pulled by oxen came into view. "Lash this moon bug to a tree and let's open up all four gates!" Guenette laughed.

With only the western gate splintered by cannon fire, white flags were raised
over Berryville. "Maybe these fanatics lost faith and gained some smarts." Black Anne stated to Kestrel. Drawing a bit of reefer smoke into his lungs, Kestrel exhaled a small cloud and said: "Once inside, accept none of their food or drink and keep your men away from their women as there could still be Knutesians about. We must limit any looting to only gold, silver, weapons, ammunition, horses, draft animals and wagons. Take none of their accursed jewels or graven images. Leave their lesser temples standing as they were there before Crotalus' daughters had arrived, but after we inspect the grand temple of the morning star sisterhood, it should be piled with captured gunpowder, ignited and demolished. Give them less of an initiative to attempt returning." Kestrel then nodded to Wood Thrush Woman and she approached the now securely bound Spirit Voice. Having sniffed and then tapped upon the priest's neck with her tattooed fingers, she howled "Knutesian!" Turning away from the priest, Wood Thrush Woman returned to Kestrel and added: "Maybe eighth or less, but could even be a quarter. It's hard to tell sometimes. I do know that the monster Conrad fathered a good many bastards and their descendants were never completely eradicated from his old conquered holdings."
"Especially in the Northern Shenandoah." Kestrel said. "Knowing there already existed such a large amount of Knutesian heritage here, Crotalus sought to reestablish Conrad's kingdom and attempt imperialist expansion."
"So why did he fail to keep us, a vastly smaller force to nip his aspirations of empire in the bud?"
"Because after a couple of hundred years many of these mixed Knutesians forgot most of their heritage and became moon bugs like that spring blossom tied to yonder tree. Crotalus was still in the process of feeding them an attitude altering gunpowder so to speak, but this took time. With the thousands of enemies we slain lays a good many of these mixed Knutesians who were seriously lacking in fighting prowess. Those mixed Knutesians brought in from places like Tazewell, Bluefield and Princeton were much more fierce."
"So your saying Crotalus should of had his shit together before engaging in any aggressive expansion?" Captain Guenette inquired.
"The sickness of greed and a rush to attain ill gained wealth will always be their folly." Kestrel replied with a smile.

Entering through Berryville's ruined western gateway they were met by a crowd of residents who favored the priest Spirit Voice in one way or another. Some stared mutely at the coalition fighters, while others chanted and struck little brass gongs until Black Anne got on the western wall, turned a swivel gun, aimed it at a statue that looked like Crotalus and fired blowing the head into many marble chunks. That and nearly two thousand guns leveled at the crowd silenced them. Berryville's residents were then rounded up and led outside the walls under guard while their temples were looted. After several hours of investigation, Kestrel, Bucksnort, Wood Thrush Woman and Guenette emerged from the Morning Star Temple compound and it was loaded with many charges of black powder. Allowing Wood Thrush Woman to light the fuse, they fled outside Berryville's walls and waited. A half dozen tremendous explosions shook the ground beneath their feet and the huge Morning Star Temple was reduced to a mound of rubble. "Go back to doing what you did before that monster Crotalus and his children lead you astray." Kestrel advised the residents of Berryville as they shambled back through their gates.

Moving northwards upon the Eastern Valley Road, they halted at a small farming community of Rippon. Climbing the ladder of a crude wooden lookout tower, Captain Guenette looked through her spyglass at the road north. "Kestrel, Raccoon Dreaming, you need to look at this!" Ascending to the top, Kestrel looked north through Black Anne's telescope. "Riders, by the thousands, from this distance I cannot tell who they are, but they're heading this way. Wait! I think I recognize their banners!"
"Mercenaries from Charles Town?" Guenette asked with a worried look in her eyes. Kestrel laughed and replied: "They may be coming from Charles Town, but they are not mercenaries."
"Who then, troopers?"
"Yes troopers, but not Light's. Let us climb down and greet the Virginia Militia who have bravely defended Bolivar and are now no doubt reestablishing order in the northern valley.

Standing in the middle of the Eastern Valley Road, they awaited these allies.


Ranger Goodman awoke at dawn feeling rather refreshed. When he saw that Irving was absent, Goodman figured he had stepped out for chicory and breakfast. Making his way to the dining room Goodman saw it had opened yet, so he began searching Lost River Inn's grounds. On his way to the gardens he passed a most beautiful woman with a mane of thick flame colored hair. Limping slightly, she wore a cup hilt rapier on her hip. "Well good morning, handsome. What brings you out and about?"
"I'm looking for a friend." Goodman replied.
"Well here I am." the woman laughed. Right about that time, Lady Murlina rode up. "Ahhh Kitty, who do we have here?"
"He hasn't told me his name yet."
"I know you, Ranger Goodman. You were with Captain John O'Neal when he escorted Vice Mayor Irving and I from Bedford."
"Have you seen Irving, Lady Murlina? We are to ride for the Ranger encampment this morning."
"I haven't seen Irving since he left for Winchester over two weeks ago. Have you checked the all night taverns and pleasure houses?"
"Not as of yet." Goodman replied.
"I know I could use a drink and maybe a little pleasure." Kitty said and then winked at Murlina. "That old drunk will probably turn up later. How about having breakfast and brandy with us, handsome?"
Looking closely at Kitty's features and strange golden eyes then noticing that Murlina somewhat favored her, Goodman recalled what little Irving imparted regarding Knutesian women and replied: "Sounds fun. How about I meet you two lovely ladies in the dining room in about an hour from now?"
"Make it sooner as the dining room opens for breakfast in about a half hour." Murlina requested. Feigning a long leering gaze at Kitty, then Lady Murlina's way, Ranger Goodman was actually looking for other signs and he found them. On Kitty's buckskin travel bag there were what appeared to be bite mark impressions that looked to be from a large carnivore and upon a few locks of Murlina's hair was a small splattering of dried blood. He also noticed the well dressed young bravo armed with a pistol, small sword and dagger standing on a porch some forty feet away. Perched upon a bandaged head of long wavy reddish blond hair was a black wide brimmed hat adorned with long white feathers. His hands on the rails, he looked on at the two women and Ranger with great interest. "Well ladies, let me get cleaned up, leave a note for Irving, that is if he ain't passed out under a tree or laid up with some milkmaid, and I'll meet you in the dining room. I hope they have some fresh eggs, ham and fried taters." Turning about and heading for the Inn's back door, Goodman also noticed the dried blood on her mount's rear legs. Passing that young bravo on his way into the back door, Goodman saw some blood on his bandage. This fellow returned Goodman's passing greeting with a glare and sneer.

Back in the suite, Goodman wrote Irving a note stating he was going back to Lost City and bring back some extra Rangers then gathered up his weapons. Allowing Kitty and Murlina enough time to enter the dining room, he sneaked out. Scanning his surroundings, Ranger Goodman made for the stable. The attendant not yet present, Goodman proceeded to saddle his mount.
"Going somewhere, handsome?" an almost musical voice asked. Kitty stepped into the gloomy stable.
"He's not going anywhere." Beside Kitty stepped the young fellow, he saw earlier. Both of them drawing their swords, they advanced. It was the inhuman baleful glow in Kitty's eyes that prompted Goodman to fire over his horse's back hitting the woman right between those fiery orbs. Rapier slipping from nerveless fingers, Kitty pitched face first onto the hay strewn dirt floor. The whole back of her head was blown out. Not having time to reach his rifle, Goodman drew out a two foot long slightly curved hunting sword. Recovering from the shock of seeing his beautiful companion's brains blown out, the young bravo came on and Goodman stepped from around his horse to meet him. Aiming a murderous slash at this fellow's head, Goodman was surprised at how swiftly he ducked that stroke, but the Ranger's look of surprise faded, when that needle sharp small sword point penetrated his chest. Quickly withdrawing his blade, the young bravo thrust it in again in Goodman's throat. The Ranger sank to his knees dying and from there toppled over dead.

"Oh no!" wailed Murlina upon entering the stable and seeing her half sister dead on the floor. "You let that piece of filth kill Kitty!" Leaning down by the woman's body, Murlina sobbed and then vomited upon seeing the ghastly hole in the back of her head. "He drew on us from behind his horse." Stevenson frantically offered in explanation.
"You stupid fucking idiot! Why didn't you just shoot him?" That's what they make guns for!"
"We didn't want to attract attention with gunfire."
"Well he no doubt has with his shot!"
"What do we do now, Murlina?"
"We do nothing, Nat. However you trade pistols with that lout, finish saddling his horse and get your ass over to Dungadin Inn just south of Front Royal. Wait there and I'll be along in a few days." Ripping her own blouse open, she sat in a corner.

Goodman's shot had awakened Gary Tate and with a hotel handyman, barged into a horrific scene. On the floor one of his guests lay with bloody brains oozing from the back of her head. Five feet away from her, a Ranger lying dead in a pool of blood while in the corner Lady Murlina of Bryce cried hysterically.
"Oh lady, what happened here?" Tate somewhat in shock inquired.

Getting Murlina outside of the stable and calming her down a little, she sobbed out a terrible tale. "Kitty and I were going out on an early morning ride before breakfast. I was first in the stable about to saddle up when that young acquaintance of mine, I took to be a gentleman came in and tried to violate me. Kitty walked in and saw this then went for help. Finding this brave Ranger they returned, but that rogue shot Kitty, ran this man through then stole his horse and fled. Oh poor Kitty!"

Leading the sobbing Lady Murlina away, Gary Tate and staff attempted to comfort her...