Part 6: Bringers of Sorrow

Zion Canyon, Utah

Angel Cave, located in the Dead Horses Camp

Joshua Graham looks over his body, satisfied that he has wrapped his burned flesh well. Every day the New Canaanite replaces his bandages with new ones, in order to avoid infection. Doing so makes him feel like he is being burned all over again, but Joshua has learned to deal with this burden.

He has just finished pulling on his clothes and his Salt Lake City Police Department SWAT ballistic vest when a Dead Horse rushes into the room. Joshua immediately recognizes the tribal as Follows-Chalk, one of the junior scouts of the Dead Horses. "Joshua, you must come with me. There is something you must see." the scout says in a rush. His eyes flash with fear and worry.

"What's wrong, Follows-Chalk?" Joshua asks, grabbing A Light Shinning in Darkness, his unique .45 Auto pistol, and holstering it. Follows-Chalk shakes his head and says "There is no time to explain. We must go!" Something in the young man's voice says that he could explain, that time is not the issue. Clearly whatever he has to show Joshua as the Dead Horse spooked. White Leg raiders? Yao Guai? Joshua dismisses both of those options, as Follows-Chalk has never shown any sign of fearing beasts or White Legs.

"No time to waste, then. Lead on." Joshua says. Follows-Chalk nods and hurries towards the entrance of the cave, while Joshua follows close behind. Exiting the cave, Joshua notices that the Dead Horses are all gathered together, talking together in their own language. They are talking quickly, and Joshua doesn't have the time to decipher what they're saying and translate it, but he can tell that something has them all terrified.

Follows-Chalk leads Joshua away from the Dead Horses camp and down the banks of the stream that feeds into the Virgin River. Along the way they step carefully around the bear traps that the Dead Horses have set up to deter the White Legs. The scout starts to slow down as they come near the mouth of the stream, as though trying to prolong the time until he has to see whatever waits for them there. What could possibly be the matter? Joshua wonders. What has the Dead Horses so terrified? As they round the bend and reach the mouth of the stream, Joshua finds the answer to his question.

Three wooden crosses, made out of the beams of old pre-war cabins found throughout Zion, have been set in the mud at the mouth of the stream. Railway spikes and metal wire keep the pieces of each cross together. Joshua comes to a dead stop when his eyes register the fact that there are people on the crosses. Fury builds up within his chest. What have the White Legs done?

One the cross on the left a Sorrows tribal hangs. His limbs and torso have multiple lacerations on them, and the man's blood flows into the water below. Metal wire keeps his feet tied to the post, and similar wires keep his wrists tight against the cross. On the right cross hangs a Dead Horse tribal. He is cut up and hanging in the same way as the Sorrows tribal. Their heads are leaning forward as though in prayer. Joshua was the Legate of Caesar once, and he remembers ordering the crucifixion of hundreds of people. He knows just by looking at them that the two tribals are dead, probably having hung bleeding from those crosses for at least two hours, maybe more.

Joshua stares at the occupant of the center cross. This man is not a tribal. He is wearing a worn out pair of jeans, which have numerous spots were they were patched or where cuts were sewn shut. His button-down shirt is black flannel with white trim squares, and his sleeves have been rolled up. The buttons on the shirt have been undone, and blood trickles from various wounds the man's chest. While the man seems to have lost a good amount of blood, he doesn't seem to be dead. His wounds aren't nearly as bad as the two tribals who are on crosses beside him. The man's head is hung low, and Joshua can see that he has short black hair. No, no, it can't be. Joshua steps closer to the cross, looking up into the man's face. His breath catches in his throat.

Hanging by his wrists from the cross, looking down at Joshua with a distant look in his eyes, is the New Canaanite missionary, Daniel.

Follows-Chalk and some other Dead Horses watch Joshua, terror in their eyes. He turns to them and says "Daniel is still alive. Quick, we must get him down from there!" He points at the cross and says "Grab it, pull it out of the mud, and lay it on the riverbank." The Dead Horses stare at him for a moment. "Now! We must act now, or he will die!" Those words spurn the Dead Horses into action.

Joshua aids the Dead Horses in pulling down the cross and then carrying it out of the water and over to a patch of dirt. Once the cross is gently placed in the dirt, Joshua hurried to Daniel's side and starts to undo the wire tied around his right wrist. "Follows-Chalk, untie the other wrist!" Joshua says, and the scout rushes to the other side of the cross. Another Dead Horse begins to untie the wire around Daniel's ankles. Within a few seconds they have the missionary free.

"Daniel, can you hear me? It's me, Joshua. Can you hear me?" Daniel's cloudy eyes slowly start to clear of fog, and he focus on Joshua. "Yes, I can hear you. Joshua… the White Legs… the Legion, they…" Daniel stops talking and begins to cough. Blood dribbles down his chin after his coughing subsides.

Joshua looks at Follows-Chalk and says "Grab his left arm. We're going to have to carry him back to camp." Looking down at Daniel he asks "Can you walk, Daniel?" The missionary nods after a short pause. Joshua grabs him by one shoulder and starts to haul him to his feet. The New Canaanite moans, but he manages to get onto his feet. Joshua wraps one of Daniel's arms around his shoulder, and Follows-Chalk does the same. They start to lead Daniel down the stream, back towards the Dead Horses camp.

Suddenly, one of the other Dead Horses calls out to Joshua. "What about the other two?" he asks. Joshua doesn't even bother to turn around, too busy with half leading, half carrying Daniel to camp. He quotes the Bible in response to the tribal man's question. "'Let the dead bury their own dead.'" he says, voice calm but commanding. The Dead Horses look at each other, glance at the dead bodies on the crosses, and quickly run after Joshua, Daniel, and Follows-Chalk.

Angel Cave

One hour later

The Dead Horses shaman sighs and shakes his head. "I am sorry, Joshua," he says to the war chieftain. "There is nothing more I can do." Joshua looks down at Daniel and says "It will have to do. How long does he have?" The shaman looks up at him, sadness in his eyes. "Minutes." he says simply. "Maybe twenty, maybe less." Joshua nods and says "I thank you for your help, Shaman. Please leave me to Daniel." The shaman inclines his head and leaves.

Joshua returns his attention to Daniel. The shaman took away the man's shirt, in order to apply ointments and herbal remedies to his wounds, as well as to wrap them in bandages. The bandages have already turned reddish-pink with blood. Daniel's wrists are also bandaged, as the metal wires that kept him on the cross bit hard into his skin. Daniel's breath is ragged, and every few minutes he starts coughing up blood. Due to loss of circulation, Daniel is having difficulty using his hands and moving his feet. His eyes still look cloudy, life no longer shining in them as brightly as it once had.

Joshua kneels in the dirt beside Daniel. "I know it may be difficult for you. You're dying, and you've lost most of your strength. But please, Daniel, tell me everything that happened. I need to… the Dead Horses and the other New Canaanites need to know." Daniel turns his cloudy gaze to Joshua's face. "I know that, Joshua. I just need to reign in my thoughts. The memories are still so… vivid, and terrifying. And the loss of blood, it's making it hard to focus." Joshua nods and says, gently, like a father to a wounded son, "I understand, Daniel. When you are ready, you may begin."

For almost a minute, Daniel doesn't speak. The missionary just stares up at the cave ceiling with that clouded gaze. Joshua begins to worry that Daniel is already in his final moments, when the man sighs sorrowfully. "Okay, Joshua," Daniel says, still staring at the wall. "I'm ready." He begins to tell his story.

The Narrows

Sicarius looks down into the Narrows, watching as the Sorrows and Dead Horses chase after the retreating White Legs. "So this is what it feels like to be a spider," Sicarius says to Brutus. The Decanus nods. "Indeed. I must congratulate you, Frumentarius. This was an excellent plan. Even Vulpes would have been impressed, I think." Sicarius shakes his head but smiles slightly, pleased by the compliment. "Vulpes is a far better Frumentarius then I, Brutus. I imagine he would think of something quite a bit more… creative then this."

Originally Sicarius had intended to defeat the Sorrows in a straight up fight. Once his men had been spotted he had pulled back his Legionaries and sent the White Legs into the Sorrows camp. It had quickly become apparent that the Sorrows and the Dead Horses in the camp had a home field advantage in the Narrows. With that in mind, Sicarius had gone with Plan B.

He had pulled back the majority of the White Legs, ordering the healthiest ones to retreat to the very entrance of the Narrows. The weak, injured, or otherwise expendable had stayed at the Sorrows camp and continued the battle. Sicarius had then set up a trap, one that was eerily similar to the one employed by the NCR during the First Battle for Hoover Dam. He had mined a stretch of the Narrows' walls with C4 plastic explosive. The plan was simple: have the expandable White Legs attack the Sorrows and Dead Horses for a minute or so, and then drop their weapons and retreat. The assumption was that the tribals would follow the seemingly fearful White Legs to finish them off. Once the tribals passed through the mined stretch, Sicarius would remotely detonate the C4, exploding or burying all of the Sorrows and Dead Horses.

Once the C4 had been set up, the Legionaries had used one of the many bridges located throughout the Narrows and creep deeper into the Sorrows territory. They have been watching the battle from this cliff, waiting for the tribals to stumble into their trap. The strongest, healthiest White Legs had been stationed at the very entrance of the Narrows, near the Caterpillar's Mound. Once the C4 went off, they would swarm back into the Narrows and help the Legionaries finish off the Sorrows tribe. And then our job will be half over Sicarius muses.

Sicarius holds the detonator in one hand, finger rest on the red trigger as he waits for the tribals to reach the detonation zone. The White Legs continue to pretend that they are running scared, and the Sorrows and Dead Horses are eating it up. Sicarius shakes his head and chuckles. This is almost too easy.

The Frumentarius raises the detonator and says "Prepare yourselves, Legionaries." Sicarius pulls the trigger and the Legionaries all lean forward. For a few seconds nothing happens. Sicarius glances at the detonator and moves it slightly, wondering if there is a problem with the signal.

Suddenly the walls of the Narrows explode. Flashes of light burn alongside the cliff walls, going off like miniature bombs. For a moment the only debris is a few boulders and bits of rocks. The Sorrows and Dead Horses, most of whom were not injured by the C4 explosions, stop dead in their tracks and look around wildly, trying to figure out what is going on. Then gravity takes control, and the weakened walls of the Narrows fall downwards. Tons and tons of rocks and boulders come crashing down into the Narrows. Sorrows and Dead Horses try to run, only now aware of the trap they have stumbled into, but it is too late. Rocks, dirt, and boulders rain down from above, burying every one of the tribals.

The Legionaries all glance at Sicarius and nod approvingly. Evidently they all share the feelings of their Decanus, Brutus. Sicarius returns their nod and looks back into the Narrows. About half of the expendable White Legs were killed, either in the initial explosions or by the falling rock. The survivors look at the carnage behind them in awe. Even from this distance Sicarius can hear their shouts of triumph. Only minutes ago the Sorrows were making similar sounds. So what they say is true, then. Pride does indeed go before destruction. Sicarius smiles at his private joke.

He turns and addresses his Legionaries. "We have struck a crushing blow against the enemies of Caesar." He pauses, giving the Legionaries a chance to bask in praise for a moment before continuing. "Our mission is not yet over, however." He points at the entrance of a cave in another part of the Narrows. A few Sorrows are running into and out of the cave. Coming in they bring injured Dead Horses and Sorrows hunters. Those who are leaving the cave run down to the battleground, looking to save more of their wounded comrades. "It seems as though the survivors are gathering at that cave. We are going to go down there and finish the job. Understood?" The Legionaries all nod. "True to Caesar." Sicarius says. The Legionaries salute and respond in kind. "True to Caesar."

Fifty minutes later

White Bird's Cave

Twenty-six. The number rings in Daniel's mind, cold as steel, a heavy burden that weighs on his shoulders. Twenty-six. That is the number of surviving Sorrows. Twenty-six. The rest were killed by White Legs, died in the rock avalanche, or succumbed to their wounds in White Bird's Cave. A pile of bodies lies just outside the cave entrance, the set where all the dead bodies of Sorrows and Dead Horses placed so as to not get in the shaman's way. Later on the Sorrows will have a funeral service and will bury their dead tribe mates at the burial ground.

Assuming there is a later for any of us Daniel thinks to himself grimly. He helped out White Bird for a while, but eventually his energy was drained away by grief and he had to leave the cave and get some fresh air. Now he sits on the edge of the cliff, feet dangling off the ledge, deep in thought. The pile of bodies is not far behind him, an ever present reminder of his failure.

It's just like the Tar Walkers. And the Crazy Horns. Daniel shakes his head and sighs. Or New Canaan. Must I live to see another failure? How long before the sins of New Canaan are paid for? His submachine gun leans against a log nearby, out of his reach. Not that it matters, the battle is already over.

Daniel is so deep in thought that he doesn't hear Waking Cloud's approach. She stops at his side and says "Daniel, it's not your fault. You never could have seen it coming." Twenty-six. Daniel shakes his head. "No, it is my fault, Waking Cloud. I could have stopped them, I should have stopped them. I let them get caught up in the moment, I let them run right into that trap. It is all my fault."

The Sorrows midwife is silent, but she places one of her hands on Daniel's shoulder. "You could not stop them. Once they had victory in their grasp, they could not let it go. They had to kill the White Legs; they had to have their revenge. Nothing you could have said or done would have stopped them." Twenty-six. Daniel just shakes his head and doesn't say a word. Waking Cloud stands silently at his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. After five minutes of companionable silence she turns to leave. Daniel sighs softly as she walks away. Twenty-six.

Suddenly he hears a soft cry, almost like a sigh, and his head whips around. Waking Cloud collapses to the ground , a tomahawk sticking out of her skull. Daniel scrambles onto his feet and looks around wildly. Then he sees them, descending along the sides of the Narrows, scrambling to the ground in front of White Bird's Cave. These aren't tribals, or raiders, or slavers. No, these are true warriors, all dressed in similar armor. Their leader has a fox head helmet and wears armor with a banner on it that protrudes behind his head. On the red banner is the yellow image of a bull, the symbol of the Legion.

The leader steadies his sidearm, a suppressed 12.7mm pistol, on Daniel. "Hold up your hands and surrender, man of New Canaan. There is no need for any more bloodshed." Daniel glances at his submachine gun, knowing that it is too far away for him to reach it before this Legionary or ones of the others shoot him. But he still has his .45 Auto pistol, tucked in a holster hidden underneath his shirt.

The Legionary with the fox head seems to read his mind. "I know that the New Canaanites are famed for their prowess with their trademark pistols. I hear that no man or woman of New Canaan will ever go anywhere without one." He smiles coldly at Daniel, aiming the pistol at the missionary's head. "I assure you that I will kill you before you can draw your sidearm. I suggest you obey my commands, dissolute. Obey, and you and these tribals might yet survive."

Daniel slowly raises his hands in defeat, knowing that at this point there is nothing he can do. Going for his weapon will just get him killed. One of the Legionaries marches him over to a boulder, jamming his riot shotgun into Daniel's back all the while. "Kneel." Daniel kneels in front of the rock. "Hands behind your back." Daniel lowers his hands, feeling ashamed of himself. I'm sorry I failed you he thinks to himself as the Legionary ties his hands together by the wrists. The New Canaanite missionary can't tell if he's apologizing to God, the New Canaanites, Joshua, the Sorrows, or just Waking-Cloud. Tears begin to roll down his cheeks as he thinks about the Sorrows midwife. He begins to sob, and the rest of the world seems to disappear, leaving only him and his grief.

Sicarius shakes his head as he watches the missionary cry. "I thought these New Canaanites were tougher than that." he says to Brutus. The Veteran Decanus shrugs. "Maybe they went soft after the White Legs butchered them and burned their city." Sicarius turns to the entrance of the cave. "Legionaries, with me," he yells. The men all follow him into the cave, weapons raised, leaving the crying missionary behind them.

The White Legs are moving throughout the Narrows, picking the spoils form the battlefield and searching for any places where more Sorrows may be lurking other than this cave. Meanwhile Sicarius and his Legionaries came here to capture or kill the group hiding in this cave. Sicarius ordered his men to spare the New Canaanite man, as he could get some information from torturing him. He's so broken we might not need to hurt him. I might be able to get him to tell me what I know simply by saying that refusal to comply will mean the death of the surviving Sorrows. The Frumentarius also intended to torture the shaman and any tribals they captured alive. There was some information he needed to know, like where all the children were being kept, since they clearly were not in the Narrows with the rest of the tribe.

The Legionaries find themselves in a large chamber in the cave, lit by a large fire and dozens of torches. The chamber is filled with injured tribals, who lie on the ground with wounds wrapped in cloth or hides, their skin pale and clammy. About half of them look to be close to death. A few Sorrows wander around the room, handing out food, water, and tribal remedies to the injured. The shaman sits in the center of the room, making some kind of broth in a pot over the fire. Every head turns when the Legionaries step into the chamber.

Sicarius barks an order and the Legionaries fan out, surrounded the tribals. He steps forward and speaks to the shaman, who eyes him calmly. "I have come to give you and your tribe a proposition." Sicarius says. The shaman crosses his arms and says "Oh? What is that?" His voice is slow, but at least he speaks English. Sicarius gestures at the Legionaries. "Each man or woman among you will be given a simple choice: surrender or die. If you refuse to surrender then you will be executed, here and now."

The room is silent for a long moment, the Sorrows eyeing the Legionaries fearfully. The shaman looks around the room, catching the eyes of each tribal individually and seeming to converse with them silently. Finally he turns back to Sicarius and says "We shall surrender, then. You will get no trouble from us."

Sicarius nods and his Legionaries usher the tribals who can walk, including the shaman, out of the cave. They leave the injured Sorrows behind. When a few of the tribals ask questions or begin to protest they are immediately beaten by the nearest Legionary until they are silent again. They wisely decide to stay silent and just follow the orders of the Legionaries.

Sicarius marches the Sorrows down into the Narrows, picking up the New Canaanite man along the way. The Legionaries and their captives meet up with the White Legs in the burned out camp where the battle was fought earlier. The White Legs are looting the corpses of the dead Sorrows and Dead Horses. Sicarius notices with disgust that the tribals loot their own with the same disrespect as they loot the corpses of their enemies. Scavengers.

The White Legs eye the captives with interest as the Legionaries approach. The New Canaanite man, who was crying earlier, seems to have pulled himself together, and now he stares at the White Legs with undisguised fury. Maybe there is some life still left in you Sicarius muses.

The Legionaries gather all the captives in one spot and make them all sit on their knees. Sicarius looks over the group, his eyes cold and calculating. The tribals look around fearfully, men and women alike. Good, fear is good, I can use that. Defiance is a little bit trickier, but fear works just fine.

"I am Sicarius," the Frumentarius shouts, his voice calm, and commanding. "My men and I are Legionaries of Caesar's Legion. Glorious Caesar has seen fit to send us to end the legacy of the New Canaanites. Unfortunately, you tribals are part of that legacy." Sicarius pauses, glaring at the Sorrows coldly. "But there is still hope for you survivors. If you cooperate with me, then Caesar will grant you mercy. If you refuse to help me, then your fate is sealed." He waves his hand in the direction of the White Legs, the burned huts, and the dozens of corpses.

Sicarius points at one of the Sorrows and a nearby Legionary hauls her to her feet. "I will meet each of you individual. I will ask each of you the same questions. If one of you lies and your information is contradicted by your tribe mates later on, you will be killed." Sicarius leads the selected tribal deeper into the Narrows. The Legionaries know what to do; they will guard the tribals until Sicarius has questioned them all. If a tribal lies or refuses to cooperate, Sicarius will send the tribal to the Legionaries with orders to execute him or her.

Of course, we'll kill the lot of them once the questioning if over, but I see no reason to tell them that before they give me the information I require. Sicarius smiles maliciously. One tribe destroyed. Now it's time to deal with Graham and his Dead Horses. Caesar will be pleased.

Angel Cave

Daniel is pale and growing weaker by the minute, his voice having become little more than a whisper. The loss of blood, the cuts, and infection, and the exposure are taking their toll. "Joshua," he whispers hoarsely. "The Legionaries tortured them for information. They know where the Sorrows are hiding their children and their old. They know where the other New Canaanites are hiding."

Joshua's blood has run cold from the chilling tale Daniel has already told. This information just makes it worse. "Is there any time? Can I send warriors out to stop them?" Joshua asks hopefully. Daniel shakes his head. "The Legionaries left with a good portion of the White Legs hours ago. There is no way you can reach the camp in time to stop them." Daniel coughs violently, spitting out blood.

"Joshua… the Legionaries, and the White Legs… they'll be coming for you next. You… and the Dead Horses." Daniel coughs again. "You're all that remains of New Canaan. The Legionaries… will stop at nothing to finish you. The White Legs are all too eager… to assist them, even if it means they serve as… cannon fodder." Daniel coughs again, and when next he speaks, it is clear that he is nearing the end. "You'll have to use whatever means are at your disposal… to defeat them. I was wrong, Joshua. Running… is not an option. The Legionaries will follow you… wherever you go, even the Grand Staircase… and the White Legs will follow."

Daniel smiles weakly. "In the end… you were right, Joshua. We can't flee Zion. You have to… take the fight to them. Destroy them. Or… you can defend this camp. Your choice." The missionary reaches upwards with one hand, and Joshua clasps it. "Goodbye, Joshua. God… bless… you…" With a sight, Daniel becomes still. His grip loosens, but Joshua holds on for a few moments longer.

Joshua walks out of the cave, anger burning deep within him. The Dead Horses watch him angrily stalk away, but they leave him be. So, this is how you fight, Caesar? Destroying the weak, the helpless, those who have done you no harm? Send me your Legionaries and your White Leg dogs, Caesar. I'll send each of the godless demons to hell. Joshua looks ups at the afternoon sun hanging over Zion. Maybe I can't stop your Legionaries; maybe they will kill me and the Dead Horses. But I will remind your men and the White Legs why the "Great Caesar" fears me so. I will show them why the Burned Man is not to be trifled with.