Sauragia: Journey to the Red Mountain

Chapter 6

The next day there was another thick layer of snow accumulated on top of the old. Tree branches broken by the wind were scattered about everywhere. Oric had decided to take a turn in the brisk morning air, leaving Bandor to look after the rest of their snoring companions. It gave him time to think. First and foremost of how lazy the Red Claw were becoming of late. Not only had the fools lost all their treasure on account of a little extra rain, but they were also downright slovenly. He really needed to take them in claw and shape them into something worthwhile. A proper robber band needed efficiency, discipline, and perhaps a bit of hygiene as well. After all, it was no use trying to sneak up on potential victims if they could smell you coming a mile off.

The second thing he thought about was how he could recover his reputation with his band. He needed something big. Something extra spectacular that would pay hefty dividends, and thus make them forget about their lacklustre performance this past summer. Just what it was, he could not say yet. He was not totally familiar with this country and its dinosaurs, having never ventured so far south before, but he was sure there must be some great opportunities to be had in a land of plenty such as this. Something other than the measly trinkets carried by solitary woodlanders and their families.

But for now, he would just concentrate on shaping his band up so that when the time came, they would be ready for action. And that process would begin today.

He strode into the cabin and hung his cloak by the door, greeting Bandor with a nod. He looked around at his band, who were beginning to waken and, as usual, seek out something to eat first thing.

“Oy, I’m starvin’,” said one. “Where’s them two brats at?”

“Never you mind where they are,” spoke Oric, striding imperiously among his band. “Because as of this moment, any member of this band not awake and washed by sunrise gets no food ‘til suppertime, and only then if he’s done all his chores.”

“But chief, what chores?” spoke a bewildered Alvarosaurus named Reddi, scratching his head. “There ain’t much to be done ‘round here.”

“There wasn’t. But there is now. Henceforth, you lot are going to be a proper robber band again. Look at you. Filthy, lazy, and getting fat besides.” He patted the belly of Reddi none-too-gently to emphasize his point. “Why do you think we messed up so badly this year, hmm?”

“Because you told us to ditch the loot and run,” said Gorad.

“Wrong! Because you lot were slow and out of shape. You’ve been tasting the good life for far too long. Well, that changes now. This winter, you’re all going to earn your keep here. Rations will be given out only to those who do their work. That includes me; it includes all of you. If we’re to have a lucrative spring, we can’t afford to repeat this year’s blunders. Clear?”

“Yes, chief,” groaned the Red Claw. All save Gorad, who seemed nonplussed by the whole thing.

“Ha! You lot slave away for Oric if you want. I serve myself when I wants. Me, I says we joined this band of our own free will, so free dinos we remain.”

“Free within the bounds of the contract you signed, Gorad,” spoke Oric. “Which means obeying the band leader’s orders if you want any share of the loot.”

“Ha! Loot, he says. I tell ye, Oric, it’s obeyin’ your orders what lost us this year’s haul. Not sloppiness on our part.”

Oric’s eyes narrowed to deadly slits. “You’ve been at the drink again, haven’t you?”

The big Gorvosaurus shrugged. “So what if I have? Them’s rations that belong to the whole band, not just to you. That’s in your contract as well, innit?”

“Aye. To be apportioned out equally when I say. You can’t just help yourself whenever you feel like it like you would back at the hideout. That’s stealing from your comrades.”

“Didn’t steal nothin’.”

As if that were an end of the matter, Gorad then looked to Jane, who stood off to the side. He stood up and pointed a claw at her. “What are you starin’ at? Get out and do somethin’ useful.”

When she did not move, Gorad rose and lunged at her.

“I said move, you lazy scum!” He aimed a kick at the hapless maiden. In a flash he was sprawling on the ground from the hefty shove that Oric gave him.

“That’s it!” shouted the bandit leader. “You’re through, Gorad. I’ve told you before about pushing my captives around, and I’ve told you before about helping yourself to the stores. Get out of here, and don’t come back!”

Gorad, positively fuming, rose up and nodded slowly.

“Aye, I’m done, all right. Done takin’ orders from you!” He grabbed his spear. “Have at it, Oric! I challenge you for leadership.”

Oric reached for his knife, then shook his head. “You’re drunk, mate. Just get out and save your skin while you’ve still got one.”

“I said I challenge!”

Oric shrugged. “If you insist.” He drew a couple of knives. “Stand back, all.”

The Red Claw didn’t need to be told, and they crowded to the far end of the cabin to watch the spectacle that had been a long time coming. The two contestants stood their ground. Gorad made a couple of feints with his spear, none of which threw Oric off one whit. He hurled a knife at Gorad’s head, which he neatly dodged, though stumbling a bit. He hurled several more, each one missing by a scale’s breadth in the cramped quarters.

“You can throw all day, Oric. Soon you’ll be out of knives, then what have you got?”

It was true, Oric did only have two knives left. But he did not intend to throw these. Instead, he actually advanced, trying to get in around his opponent’s spear. It didn’t work, as Gorad could hold him at bay and even thrust back with the much longer weapon. However, it did force Gorad to circle about the room. He bumped into the table, knocked a couple chairs over, but maintained his balance through it all. Oric kept a look of concentration on his face the whole time, as though the battle was a real struggle. The band watched with bated breath, knowing one or the other had to make a mistake soon. And one did.

Oric stumbled a bit on one of the knocked down chairs. Gorad took this as his chance, and lunged at him. But the Red One neatly swept under the spear and nicked his foe on the leg with a knife. Backing off several steps to give his spear room to manoeuvre, Gorad felt his tail tip suddenly thrust right into the open fire.

“Ya-ha-houch!” he cried, leaping out of the flames.

Oric also leapt forward. Half a second later, the Red Claw looked in sheer wonder at their victorious leader standing over the corpse of his opponent. He neatly wiped off the blade which had slit Gorad’s throat on a cloth, then nudged the corpse with his hind claw.

“Someone take that outside,” he said. “Toss it where the scavengers can have a nice meal, though ideally where no decent dinosaur will stumble on it. And let it be a lesson to us all.”

The band heeded his orders without delay, practically fighting to be the ones to carry out his command. Oric sheathed his knives, then set about collecting the ones he had tossed earlier. Most, given the choice, would have preferred him to the loud-mouthed Gorad anyway. But even those who hadn’t would not dare challenge their chief now.

“Oh, and you two can set about prepping this morning’s meal, I think,” he said to Aldous and Jane. “I believe a celebratory breakfast is in order.”

An audible cheer went up from most of the remaining bandits, and Oric allowed himself a smile. He was firmly back in control of his beloved Red Claw.