by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing

CHAPTER ONE

I grew up hearing all the stories about the Old Country. Nanna introduced us to every legend, myth, character and villain in nightly tales by the wood stove. To hear her tell them, you’d think she’d have been there to witness it all, but so far as anyone knew the Old Country had been dead and gone for some 300 years now.

Sure, if you listened to the traders who passed through town there were always rumors that Amurca was alive and well, that the States were reuniting and settling their differences, but it was always far away in some distant city. Most of us didn’t even know if these places existed or where they’d be located if they did. Places with foreign names like Seatel, Denvir and Losanglees. There were rumors about a great domed city called Jefferson Dome, where men were free and equal and democracy flourished.

Nanna explained to us about democracy. She said it was an Amurcan birthright. It was more dear to her than anything, this idea that people could live freely and decide their own fates. She told us to listen close and to tell our children’s children until the time was right to claim what was ours. We all loved Nanna, but we also all thought she was a bit off her rocker. There wasn’t anything remotely like democracy on the Caroline Coast and we all doubted there ever would be.

It was hard enough growing up knowing you were more likely to be put to death for missing a work quota than to die of old age. If Bolson, the Caroline King, didn’t work you to the grave, the sea would claim you, or illness and depression might drive you to end it all yourself. Life was rough and we figured the Amurcan myths were just Nanna’s way of making it a little easier for a few hours each night.

Our town, more like a village, was called Bright. Bright, Caroline, population 1,475, was located four miles inland from a small bay on the Alanta Ocean, in the edge of a great pine forest grown up from the sandy soil of some ancient dune. Some of us spent days out on the bay in boats, working nets for fish, turtles, and anything else edible the sea might produce. Others were busy lumber jacking, felling timbers or hauling them to the mill in Culver, on the other side of the river to the North.

A small group of men worked a secret mine far up in the hills, not for Bolson’s reserves, but for trading stock to help acquire the goods our people needed. This was the most dangerous job, for the mine often collapsed and if Bolson’s men ever learned of it they’d slaughter anyone who had taken part in the deception. Nanna laughingly referred to the mine as our “Bolson Tea Party”, although we had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

I was daydreaming about Nanna’s stories when I heard the cloppity clop of horse’s hooves coming down the dirt road in front of me.

“Traders coming, never seen these ones afore,” shouted the rider as he passed at a solid trot. “Tell the olders, no sign of Bolson.” The rider never slowed, continued another hundred meters, then spurred the horse to the West, heading towards the lumber camps.

Traders. We all looked forward to their visits, but not without a good deal of angst. Traders meant new supplies, news, stories, and occasionally even new families arriving in Bright. They also meant we had to be on extra watch for Bolson’s patrols, who frequently stopped in town to ensure we were hard at work collecting the King’s resources. If they were to catch us trading anything but the simplest of subsistence goods it would mean bloodshed. Then there was always the threat that one of these traders might sell us out to Bolson directly. Trading was tricky business.

I bolted off the road and down the hill, jumping ferns and fallen logs, heading towards town. The Olders needed to know so they could put together a trading plan. Fall was a few months off, but the Olders tended to start thinking about winter goods early in the season when they were more plentiful.

A few minutes later I burst into the trading post, out of breath.

“Oli, what is it?” It was Older Best. He usually spent his days in the trading post, counting stores, keeping track of things we needed, and loading carts of goods to be shipped northwards to Bolson’s fortress in Rawley. He had always been kind to me and called me by my nickname. Rumor was he and Nanna were romantic in their younger days, but that wasn’t anything I’d ever wanted to dwell on.

“Traders, sir,” I rushed. “Matthew Egers just road in from the North and told me to let you know. He says he never seen these ones before! He headed towards the camps to call in the others.”

Older Best raised his eyebrows. “Has anyone gone to warn the fish yard yet?” His deft hands were already wiping at the counters with a worn rag.

“Don’t know, sir,” I said, hoping I wasn’t going to get that job too. There were only two horses in town that weren’t directly involved in work tasks, and those were used by the scouts that kept watch over the north and south roads into our little valley. It was a long run down to the fish yards, especially in the summer heat. I wouldn’t be back in town for hours and would probably miss the traders’ arrival. That was always the best time to be hanging around, just in case any kind of gifts were going to be passed out in greeting.

Traders were an odd bunch. Some you saw frequently and got to know real well. Those were generally the ones who plied the local routes, keeping the small Caroline towns in touch with each other. They were the basis of the local economy, what little of it made it past Bolson’s taxes. Others were strange people, with a variety of customs and accents, bringing in goods we often had never seen before. These foreign traders didn’t have to live under Bolson’s constant shadow and were the ones most likely to bring in new rumors and stories that kept the Amurcan myths alive.

I once saw a group of traders, I think they were from some place called Mountaina, they wore nothing but raw fur and animal skins and smelled like they hadn’t bathed in years. They told stories about Amurcan armies that were fighting a big war in the north to unite two states. They said ten thousand men had died in a single battle. I couldn’t even imagine that many people in one place. It took all we had just to feed and care for barely more than a thousand people and we were one of the larger towns in Caroline.

Older Best must have read the look on my face. “Don’t worry, Oli, we’ll send Matt down as soon as he gets back from the camp. No use wasting your legs on a horse’s job when your back is more suited to helping me here.” He grinned with this, knowing I was trapped.

“Yes, sir,” I moaned. At least I’d be one of the first to get a look at these newcomers.

I spent the next hour moving boxes and helping Older Best cover the trapdoor to the cellar where our contraband goods were kept. I finished sweeping the porch as folks began gathering around in front of the post. As was traditional in most towns, this was the largest open area in town with various benches and seats around three sides and a large open fire pit lined with stones in the middle of the square. A good trade meet was often the biggest social event of the year.

“Who is it this time, Oli?”

I turned to see James, my best friend, walking up from the direction of his house. He was carrying his mother’s trading bundle, a large fur bound neatly with twine, everything his mother might want to use for barter goods wrapped safely in side.

“Hey, James,” I said. “We’re not sure who it is yet. Matt Egers said they were new.”

“Well, whoever they are, I hope they brought some hard candy.” James grinned and hoisted up his bundle for emphasis, “I’ve got some of Mom’s best ready to go.”

James had an insatiable sweet tooth. He and his father worked the fish yards, mostly repairing boats, nets, and salting and drying fish. They brought his mom all kinds of shells from the beach, and she had become well-known throughout our area for some of the finest hand-crafted shell beads and buttons to be had on the Caroline Coast.

“We’ll know soon enough,” I pointed his attention up the road.

A procession of wagons, led by one of our mounted scouts, was just making its way from behind the trees lining the road to the north. Little kids started whooping and hollering, jumping up and down, and a general feeling of excitement overtook the crowd.

The wagons flew brilliantly colored flags, each a field of bright green bearing some kind of dark blue sphere or possibly a shield in the middle. I couldn’t make out any more details from this distance, but I knew I’d never seen this standard before. Each vividly painted cart was pulled by oxen, most by a single animal, but the last carriage was led by a pair of the beasts. You could tell by the slow trundle of its wheels that this vehicle was laden with as much as it could carry.

“Would you look at that.” declared James. “That’s the wildest caravan I’ve ever seen!” I laughed at his slack jawed expression.

A tall Older with long straight hair stood with one foot up on the wagon’s buckboard, holding the reins in one hand and waving at the throng with his hat in the other. He wore a wildly multicolored robe hanging loosely from his shoulders. His baggy white pants seemed to balloon away from his body accept at the waist, where they were held by a bold red sash, and where they were tucked into the jet black, highly polished boots.

I’d never seen traders like these before, that was for sure. My face must have looked as comical as James’. Nanna came up to my side from behind and stroked my cheek.

“Oli, dear, you look like a little boy again,” she smiled. “I keep forgetting traders like these haven’t passed through here in decades. When I was a girl, carnival traders were common. It’s nice to see the tradition is still alive.”

“What’s a carnival trader, Nanna?”

“You’ll see, sweety.” She grinned a wry smile and winked.

Nanna could put a positive spin on anything. She’d raised me after my parents death, and it was her zestful outlook on life, her rich beliefs, and a loving heart that made this otherwise perilous existence bearable. For her, my adolescent embarrassment of being referred to like a child in front of my friend could be ignored.

I smiled, reached my arm around her diminutive shoulders and squeezed.

The wagons were pulling to a halt on the edge of the square. The lead trader, still standing with one foot on the buckboard, placed the reins on the seat, rested his hat on his head and waved his arms to gain everyone’s attention.

“Friends! Friends,” he boomed. The crowd hushed. “People of Bright, I want to thank for such a warm and friendly welcome. My name is Eli Zhirofski and this is my family.”

He swept his arm back over the traders’ caravan. I couldn’t help but notice a girl not much older than myself, helping another man behind the rear of the last wagon. She was beautiful. Long, black hair fell off her shoulders nearly to her waist. From my vantage I couldn’t see much of what they were shouldering down from the wagon, but I didn’t care. She was captivating in her own right. Older Zhirofski’s voice pulled my attention reluctantly back to the front of the caravan.

“We’ve been traveling the road these many months since early spring, and you’ve made us feel the most welcome of any place we’ve visited this year. In return my family and I would be pleased if you’d allow us to honor you with a gift.”

From behind his wagon the black haired beauty emerged, leading on a rope the largest hog I’d ever seen. She grinned and waved as the townsfolk began cheering. Older Zhirofski made a showman’s leap down to stand next to her. After a moment, Older Best stepped forward and waited patiently for it to quiet again before speaking.

“You are, of course, most welcomed in Bright! We humbly accept your gracious gift, on the terms that you share it with us in feast tonight. I must warn you, however, we’ve not had traders here so entertaining as the Zhirofskis in many years. If your smile and warmth of personality are as infectious as I expect, we may not let you leave!”

“Then I fear we shall have to remain wary of kidnap, my friend!” Zhirofski turned to his family members, most of whom had now gathered behind him and the girl, and feigned an exaggerated look of fear. “Let us then spend the evening in friendship and leave matters of business to tomorrow.”

Both Olders laughed and embraced one another by the forearms. If I hadn’t known better I’d have thought these two knew each other. It was like old friends greeting each other after a long absence. I didn’t know why, but it made me shiver lightly with emotion. This was certainly not what I’d been expecting. Most traders I’d ever seen just showed up in town, passed out a few trinkets, and then set to the business of trading.

Nanna gave me a slight nudge. “Well, go on, Oli.”

“Go where, Nanna?” I was confused.

“Go make yourself some new friends, of course!” She exclaimed and again nudged me towards the throng.

I wasn’t the only person unfamiliar with this apparently old tradition. While many of the Olders were moving forward, greeting the Zhirofskis with hugs and handshakes, a number of the younger townspeople were mulling about, unsure of what to do.

***** Outline ****

• Oli and James meet the Zhirofskis. They all enjoy the festivities
• Oli is emabrrassed when Alena Zhirofski pulls him in to dance with her near the fire in front of the whole town
• Later, sitting with James and Alena, Oli notices Nanna having a private conversation with Eli Zhirofski over behind the wagons. Eli turns to look at the kids several times and Oli wonders if they are talking about him.
• Nanna sends Oli into the trading post to get another barrel of ale, but asks him to take his time and pay attention.
• From the backroom of the trading post Oli eavesdrops on a meeting of the Olders with Eli Zhirofski. Zhirofski informs the Olders that the Amurcan tales are indeed true. The Amurcan army is about 2 months away from arriving in Bright, and looking for a place to set up for the winter. Zhirofski believes Bright Valley would be the ideal location.

END CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

• The Olders debate what to do with Zhirofski’s revelation. Some don’t believe it and suspect Zhirofki is trying to trick them for some ulterior motive. Nanna makes an impassioned argument in support of Zhirofski.
• Oli sneaks out and tells James what he heard. James suggests Oli ask Alena about it since she appears to like him. By the time the feast is dying down Oli asks Alena, but instead of answering she takes him by the hand and leads him to the last wagon. There is Eli Zhirofski, as if waiting for him. Alena tells Eli that Oli needs answers, and then leaves them alone.
• Oli asks Eli about the Amurcans. Eli says it is true. Shows Oli a trunk full of various flags, and says that each town they go to they fly a different flag, claiming it is the ancient trader flag. They do this so that local kings and tyrants will believe they are true gypsies without allegiance; a carnival trick. The Zhirofskis are in fact scouts for the Amurcans, helping identify towns, routes, military strengths, etc.
• Eli shows Oli a hidden compartment in the wagon. In it is the true Amurcan flag, tattered and torn with scorch marks. It is one of the last remaining of the original flags. He explains the meaning of the colors and the stars.
• Eli also tells Oli of his earlier conversation with Nanna. She loves Oli very much and her heart aches for Oli to know freedom. She asked Zhirofski to take Oli back to the west with him. She doesn’t want Oli to be there when the fighting starts. But Eli is heading north, not west, and Oli refuses to be convinced to leave Bright and Nanna behind to make the trip on his own.
• Oli goes home and to bed, both excited and confused. He gets very little sleep. He spends the next day wandering in the woods with Alena, talking about the future, Amurca, fears, etc while the town conducts its trading business with Zhirofski. Alena has to get back to help her family pack up the wagons to leave towards evening.
• Alena says goodbye to Oli. Gives him a kiss. The Zhirofskis leave heading north the next morning.

END CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

• Several days go by and a large contingent of Bolson’s army rides thru Bright, heading south. Nanna notices a column of smoke rising from the north and sends Oli to investigate. He takes a horse and avoids several more contingents on the road. He arrives at at the scene to find the Zhirofskis dead, their wagons burning, and the oxen slaughtered. He cannot find Alena’s body, but manages to rescue the Amurcan flag from the wreckage and a sword from Eli Zhirofski’s dead hand.
• Oli takes the woods south instead of the road. Along the way he hears a scream and follows the sound to a low creek crossing where he sees Alena trying to fight off two of Bolson’s men. Oli takes the sword and rides into fray. Fight scene. Alena is rescued, but in shock from the slaughter of her family, and a severe injury to her leg. She carries a leather pouch that has all the scouting info her family has gathered for the Amurcans.

END CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

• When they arrive back in Bright they find the trading post burning, Older Best murdered in front of it. A dozen or more towns folk dead around town, almost all the Olders, and several houses burned out. Nanna is slumped in the doorway of Oli’s home a deep gash in her head. She survives, but is blinded by the injury.
• Over the next few days Oli cares for Alena and Nanna, learns that James’ entire family was killed at the fishyards, James was conscripted into Bolson’s army and carried off south. Oli begins a militant conversion. He stirs in anger as Bolson places a small permanent contingent in Bright to maintain a firmer grip. They force him to act as stable boy for their horses. He keeps Nanna and Alena hidden in the basement of the home. It becomes grim as people are executed for minor crimes or offenses

END CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

• One night, after Bolson’s soldiers fall asleep, Oli steals a horse and rides south hoping to find the Amurcans to deliver the Zhirofski’s pouch. He carries the Amurcan flag tucked in his jacket. From mountain at the southern pass he can see fires burning and hear the far of shouts and din of battle.
• Placeholder for action details. Oli rides through the battle lines, but gets captured by the Amurcans.

END CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

• Oli has to convince Amurcans he’s not one of Bolson’s men. Zhirofski’s flag is the proof.
• Oli delivers pouch to the Amurcan commander, tells him how bad its getting in Bright. Commander promises to arrive with help as soon as possible. Oli rides back around the lines and arrives back in town with just enough time to return the horse before sunrise.
• Two days later, three Bolson guards beat in the door of Oli’s house and find him there with Nanna and Alena. Fight. Two guards dead, last holding Alena with pistol. As he tries to back out of the house James appears from behind and smashes in the man’s head with a rifle butt. A horn blows and Bolson riders from the south heading north are in full retreat.

END CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

• James explains how he was forced to join in the fight against the Amurcans to the south, but once the retreat started he was able to escape and return home. Amurcan scouts begin to arrive within a few hours.
• The Amurcan forces begin to set up in Bright. Contrary to what Oli believed, this is only a small expeditionary regiment. There’s no army coming until spring or later.
• James moves into Nanna’s house with them
• Oli spends most of his time trying to console and care for everyone. Alena, Nanna, James - all carrying physical or mental scars from the events. Having others to care for has allowed Oli to put off dealing with his own emotional reactions
• Alena introduces them to Aaron Stainsforth, the lieutenant her father used to report to. Stainsforth is trying to figure out how to get new intel on Bolson without the Zhirofski caravan.
• That evening Oli goes out on the porch. A strong wind is blowing in from off the coast. He climbs up on the porch and hoists the Amurcan flag up over his home. Nanna can hear the sound of it flapping in the wind and asks Oli what it is. Oli replies “It’s the sound an Amurcan, claiming what is rightfully his, Nanna.”

END CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

• James is seldom at the house and leaves whenever Alena is around. Oli gets angry with him and thinks James is jealous of her.
• James is transformed, both by the loss of his family and the combat he participated in while a conscript in Bolson’s army. He moves out of Nanna’s house, becomes distant and starts drinking. To avoid the Amurcan troops (he feels guilty for the ones he killed) he spends most his time alone at the fishyards, trying to do the work he used to do with his father.
• Lt. Stainsforth agrees to go speak to James at Oli’s request. They both visit James at the fish yards. James blames the Amurcans and the Zhirofskis for losing his family. Says if they had not come Bolson’s men would have had no reason to go on the rampage. Stainsforth tries to talk with him, but James assaults him. Stainsforth refuses to fight back. When it’s over James takes off down the beach, Stainsforth is bloodied.
• Stainsforth notices dark smoke out on the ocean, rising from over the horizon. Oli has never seen anything like it before here. Stainsforth is disturbed and concerned by this. He believes it may indicate a level of shipping the Amurcans didnt believe existed anymore. They watch as it moves slowly north and out of sight.

END CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

• They return to town and Stainsforth reports the potential ship to his Commander. The need for better intel now becomes more critical. Bolson’s Carolinians are building up in Culver, securing the bridge north and increasing the threat of another attack on Bright. The Amurcans set up perimeters on both the northern and southern passes leading into the valley, but are concerned they may not have the strengths to repel a Carolinian assault.

• Tags: , Amurca, Old Country, story
  
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