Chapter 24: CH25: Raid

Silas gripped the pommel of his saddle, an old dry hunk of leather-wrapped bone, and hoisted himself up, pushing himself to stand in the stirrups before sitting. He never felt taller than when riding Dotty, and the old nag seemed sprier than the other horses, excited even. As the bounts lined up two horses wide, three deep behind him, he kicked lightly. They left in a gallop out of the gate armed with loaded muskets a few hours before sunrise.

 

They followed behind him while he focused on the braves who fled. Out on the edge of his senses, he could sense people with as much spiritual pressure as other humans. By his count, there were between two hundred and two hundred fifty in the group. Silas didn’t know if any of their fighting men were away or what their defenses were. 

 

All he really knew was seven of them were willing to ambush him. More than likely, they had already scouted out his farm and thought he was easy to overpower. If Eugene, Yoshina, and himself were normal, they would have raped Yoshino after taking everything of value. But, unfortunately, that was the way of things in lawless lands, and no matter what tribal rules may exist, they did not protect outsiders.

 

That didn’t make the people he planned to raid and capture any less human. He chose to raid and capture the tribe’s women in return for the ambush. Silas planned to kill as many warriors as possible to discourage future reprisals. It was what any good cultivator would do.

 

As a member of a righteous sect, it was a dream come true to be ambushed by a lesser group. It was one of the few times he would be allowed to take another group’s resources. A member of a righteous sect couldn’t be seen instigating a raid, but a revenge raid was perfectly allowed. Silas had joined a few in the past but never led one himself. He was a specialist and was often used for his specialty to break down defenses; this time, he would lead.

 

Silas felt an arrow whizz by his head and reached out with his hand. The brave, keeping watch in a tree, clutched his chest as Silas squeezed his hand. The man fell, and Silas pulled his musket free of its holster. A blade of wind from Eugene cut a man in twain, who leaped out with his lance aimed down for a punishing plummeting attack.

 

A flash of light later showed a member of the stealth force sending the souls to the hereafter. He saw the smoke of several cookfires in the moonlight as Dotty jumped a ditch. Silas heard shouting, and men ran from their long house with lances in hand; he reached out and slew them.

 

Without an aura of their own, they had no defense against his assault. Men clutched their chests and fell over as their hearts exploded. He felt his stamina drain as he slew the men of the tribe before his raiding party entered their camp.

 

Screaming women beat at their husbands’ unmoving bodies and stared into their glassy-eyed faces as he entered the tribe. An old man ran out of the tribe’s longhouse, and Silas raised his musket and fired.

 

One of the braves who participated in the ambush rushed out of a smaller structure and fired an arrow. Silas snatched the missile out of the air, flicked it back through the man’s chest, and stuck him to the wall.

 

As planned, his bount associates circled the tribe like sharks keeping any runners from getting away. Half the work was already done. He saw a few totems resembling a turtle and got the message. The longhouse he raided belonged to the turtle clan of the Lenape tribe. Silas filed that tidbit away.

 

Silas waited for the men to run out and killed them one after the other hoping to continue until only the women and young boys remained. The greater turtle clan would absorb the small longhouse survivors, and they might try a revenge raid. He would love to see them try his fence.

 

He approached the long house and waited for more defenders to come out. “What do thou want?” A voice said from within the longhouse.

 

Mutterings in Red Indian were abounding, but he hadn’t expected any of them to speak English. Delaware had been a Dutch colony originally, so he expected them to have a few words in Dutch at most.

 

“Did thou think ambushing me on my land would go unpunished? Mayhap thou didn’t know, and that changes nothing. I am here because thou gave me a pretext. Surrender to my will or be destroyed.” Silas said.

 

If they surrendered, he would take half of the best-looking women, leave the remaining braves alive and call it a day. He wouldn’t even invade their food stores. But, if not, he would take all the women he favored, kill the braves, and rob their winter food stores.

 

“We wouldn’t attack thou we have a treaty with Willaim Penn.” The man said.

 

Silas nodded his head. The Quakers were good friends of the Delaware Indians, but that didn’t change the fact he was attacked. It didn’t change his actions. Silas had already pinned one of the attackers to the wall of a house and had his own expectations from this raid.

 

“Take it up with him then,” Silas said and took a few steps away from the mouth of the building before using his aura to yank the door off its henges. The man who had been talking froze at seeing Silas’s musket. Another brave charged and fell over, clutching his chest.

 

The speaker saw the man die with bulging eyes. He took a step before tripping over another corpse. “We surrender.” The man said before bursting into his Delaware language.

 

Silas looked down at the man and smiled warmly. “Let thy people know. I can see a bright future for thee. Instead of remaining here, thou will come with me. Line up the women.” Silas ordered, and the man froze.

 

It didn’t take long for a lineup to form after the man moved, speaking in his native language. When a brave attempted to stop the man, Silas killed them. It was hard at first to cut men down a lifetime ago but living in a cultivation world changes a man. But, of course, everyone spoke nearly the same language in that lifetime. So when a raid happened, people followed a kind of protocol.

 

This tribe was unaware of that protocol, but that wasn’t anything to worry about. Silas could wait for them to learn. Of the 215 members of the long house belonging to clan turtle among the Delaware Indians, 135 were women. Silas picked out the 25 most beautiful, bound their arms, and tied them to his saddle.

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“Dotty, go home,” Silas said, and his faithful nag began walking back to the homestead. Some tried to resist but walked along instead of falling and being dragged. Dotty didn’t gallop; she only walked at a brisk pace humans could perfectly keep up with.

 

“What will become of them?” The translator said.

 

“They will do for me what women have done since the dawn of mankind,” Silas said.

 

“We have a treaty.” The man said.

 

“Methinks thy treaty is with William Penn. I am Silas Flex. With me, thou have signed no treaties. Tis the truth: I had no reason to target thee, but thou attacked, so I have come. Mayhap thy clan, will aid thee in recovering, but that is no longer thy worry. Surrender; I need a man who can speak my tongue and that of the Delaware Indians. Tell me, what is thy name?” Silas asked.

 

“Thou wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.” The man said.

 

“Tis Frank then. Welcome to my sect; thou art a servant. Methinks if thou shows skill and devotion, promotions exist in thy future. Come tis a long walk to my homestead, and the sun will be up soon. Thy former people will need to report to thy former clan.” Silas said as Eugene came around with the new horses hitched to his saddle.

 

“What of the bodies of the deceased?” Eugene asked.

 

Silas nodded. “I was too excited about the women and translator. Please have one of the men gather them for transport if possible. Tis cold enough for the bodies to remain mostly free of rot. We will dig the Lazarus pit today and prepare my current stock for raising.”

 

The man looked between Eugene and Silas before suddenly cutting at the rope before his hand froze. Once a cultivator reached the first stage, normal people were almost entirely incapable of fighting back effectively. Guns mostly equalized that unless both parties had them. Silas couldn’t handle a firing squad, but he could handle a mortal with a knife.

 

 “Thou art going too fast with him. A mortal can only handle so many changes at a time.” Eugene said.

 

Silas gave that some thought before nodding. It made sense. He raised his hand, snipped the cords to the man’s balls, and damaged some veins to make his member worthless. While he needed a translator, he didn’t need another rooster in the henhouse.

 

Creating eunuchs out of servants was standard practice among cultivators. It was so well practiced that it could be done without the servant's awareness. Only cultivation to the first stage could fix the man’s impotence, and that was only if he knew about the problem. That was another tactic among cultivators to cause problems for up-and-comers without the future rivals ever being the wiser.

 

A translator would be useful until his first batch of concubines learned English. Then Silas would see how the man’s cultivation progressed.

 

“How can something like thou exist?” Frank asked.

 

“There is more to the world than the mundane. If thou art interested in learning, thou could become a powerful peer one day. Tis up to thou.” Silas said.

 

Frank growled under his breath as they road to his estate. There was so much to do, and he had to worry about the reprisal coming at an inopportune time, but on the flip side, he could use more bodies.

 

Silas could be considered a necromancer for his ability to speak with the dead alone but raising corpses was what necromancers were known for. He planned to raise many to be used for menial tasks. They were a part of the prize he gained from the raid. When the next raid hit, he planned to use the undead as a vanguard and collect the corpses of his attackers before going to their villages and pilfering more women.

 

It was how he hoped to gather many loyal cultivators quickly. Simply put, if he couldn’t rely on people invited to join, he would go with blood. Of course, they would likely try something like brainwashing the children to hate him. He would have to keep an eye on that. Then again, after they experienced living and cultivating, would they care about their previous culture. After a few decades of living with him, what would the first decade and a half to two decades really matter?

 

There was a reason why religions, cults, and political parties wanted to get to children while they were young. He couldn’t discount their youthful love of their tribes. If he could direct that love in a way that was beneficial to his plans, that would be the best.

 

As the sun rose, he rode behind a column of his concubines walking through his gate, let in by two of his servants. Silas hadn’t planned on turning them into eunuchs. Still, if they pawed at his women, they would suddenly find themselves impotent. He shook that thought out of his head. Genghis Kahn set a precedent by giving his men part of the booty. Silas would do the same, but with merits instead; that was an idea.

 

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