Scott Alten Raiders of Trog

Chapter 8: One Moral Dilema--Scott Alten's Raiders

Yesterday Jolan had hopes of a relationship with a man she'd be proud to marry, only to find out today that he is no different from the men he rescued her from...

Chapter 8

Scott Alten could not shake the sense that he had been too harsh, that he had needlessly hurt a young fawn unable to defend itself. He put an iron lock on conscience and empathy. Forced thoughts to the men who trusted him to keep his mind clear and focused, locked on the confrontation ahead, not on regrets back at the Hole in the Rock Saloon.

Reports had come in of another slave cavern approaching Snyder glade, a trail less than fifteen miles distant but with a mountain of a giant hill set between them. Scott meant to split his army, to send half of them around the left side of the hill, the others around the right side and in that way, attack from both ends leaving the Al Deneke no where to run.

Scott considered carefully sent the Brooster Brothers and The Egg down the trail to the south, while The Hammer, Sven, and himself down the trail to the right.

If they had timed their approach correctly, Dineke would just be about the middle of the hill, caught between the Raiders best men. News of the sighting hadn't come in time to pull women off the end of the slave chain, but maybe it was time to stop playing cat and mouse and just eat the damned cheese.

Sven had gone ahead to scout Deneke's progress, found him far west of where Alten thought he should have been. One wheel of a supply cart had hit a rock and broke an axel.

The slaves were laboring to unload the wagon.

"Why unload it?" Scott wanted to know.

"Oh wait, Commander. This gets better. They unloaded it believing they had extra axels beneath the supplies."

"And... there was no spare axel?"

"Nope. So then an argument... make the slaves carry the supplies on their backs... it was the cart with food to feed the caravan... or leave it there with guards so the Raiders wouldn't get it, make faster time getting the slaves to Grandma Rae... send 4 riders ahead to bring back an axel or other wagons."

"None of those options good for them, all favor us. So, which one won out?"

"They've left 4 to guard the supply wagon, 4 slaves to entertain each of those left behind. They've split their force almost in half. We can annihilate them."

Scott Alten nodded, eyes furrowed, mind working quick as a computer on task. If they finished the ambush as planned, they could double back, grab 4 captives, 4 slaves, and a food wagon.

But... what if that was what they were expected to do? What if Grandma Rae wanted Alten's Raiders caught on the trail and she was setting a trap?

"Sven, catch up with the men traveling south. Divert them east. Tell them to stick to the forest, hide in the reeds through the marshes, looking for waiting troops."

Sven was a good one for this job. On foot, he could run like the wind. He could read the surrounding air or atmosphere, almost as if the land itself told him what it was hiding, or harboring, just out of sight.

"Understood, Commander Alten." In a flash Sven was gone, so quickly out of sight the scent of his cologne still lingered.

In the meantime, Scott meant to take the men who remained with him the opposite direction. Decoy for a trap? Why not both? The breakdown could be real, a misfortune Deneke had hoped to twist to Grandma Rae's advantage.

Commander Alten felt it could easily be turned as an advantage for his side. Extra supplies were always welcome, and four damsels in distress? Scott was eager to free them... a thought that brought him back to Jolan.

He had rescued her from a life of slavery only to drop her right back into one. Had rescued her from Deneke's whip only to give her ten lashes himself.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE DOING? WE'RE NO BETTER THAN THE ENEMY!"

A cry sent to the four winds, heard by Sven several miles distant, heard by those who awaited orders nearby. All seemed aware that Scott Alten was suffering a call to conscience, a moral crisis that would decide his future and the legacy his death would leave to history.

**********

Jolan Rose knew she could not live on Trogg. There was only one escape. She had hoped for a future with someone who would love her, only her. Only to find that Scott Alten was not the good, pure of heart hero she had envisioned, but instead, one of the same mold of rapacious pig that had stolen her from Earth.

"Jolan get your mind on the job." Hazan's voice barely filtered her mental fog as she loaded her tray with Paga mugs, turned from the counter to deliver drinks to table 12.

A hand reached between her legs and pinched the labia, one of his fingers plowed through the hole hidden there. It was a grip that impaled her, refused to allow another step forward.

She halted her steps, divorced her mind from what was happening. When he failed to get a reaction from her he removed his finger and allowed her to travel forward. Five steps further and hands again invaded the private parts of her body.

Jolan had become a zombie, a robot. If she got out of this tavern she meant to throw herself into the lake, swim until her body gave out and too fatigued to save herself from drowning.

She would eat nothing, drink nothing, just 5 days and her dehydrated body would cease to function. If she got a sharp knife in the kitchen, two quick slices up each wrist vein would end this nightmare.

She had walked past table 12, past all of the tables, was at the door... just a few feet to the street outside. No one was watching. No one had noticed...

'This world is not for me. I'm not like them. I wouldn't mind being Scott's slave, as long as we were married. I wouldn't like it if he bedded other women but I wouldn't fuss about it... MUCH.

No. That's a lie. I want a man who loves me and forsakes all others. Just as the Bible teaches. A book written by man, not God, but to me its proof that some men at least, feel as I do. The body is sacred. The soul...'

Jolan blinked. Confused, she looked down at the tray in her hands, heavy with six full mugs of Paga. What happened? Where was she? The lake. She was halfway there...