Chapters Vendetta
the year 1900, War between the british and the ‘boers’, the Afrikaans Nation who had settled in Southern Africa generations earlier, had been raging for almost a year now, with great losses to both sides. But that could not be further from the mind of one ‘boer’ in particular: Jakobus Van de Merwe.
The dry grass rustled about him as he shuffled through the long, dry grass towards the tall fence before him. Sounds of bustling activity and muted conversation reached his ears, but he ignored them. The only thing he could focus on was the gaudy white hat floating above the crowd, the man wearing it perched cockily astride his horse, knocking aside the women and children beneath him.
That hat...that uniform, had come to represent everything he hated. He fumbled tiredly for his rifle, the weathered butt of the old mauser sliding up to press comfortingly against his cheek, the sights barely wavering from the British officer sitting tall on his spitefully white horse.
Jakobus felt the press of papers in his back pocket, and wilfully ignored its presence. His order, to retreat and regroup yet again, to capitulate to the evil invaders’ demands, to run and keep the families of the country safe in these horrid ‘concentration camps’. No. Jakobus had run. He had retreated with the promise that his family would be safe.
It had been lies. The stories he had heard from escapees... no human should have to endure such horrific circumstances. Certainly not his own family. And certainly not at the hands of that monster.
Captain Allan Luck.
He was the meat-grinder, the caretaker of the death camps, the man in charge of looking after and protecting the innocents. But he failed. He failed willingly, and by now his head was marked by every fighting Boer in the war. And one set of sights in particular. All Jakobus had to do was squeeze the trigger, and his hunt, his fight, his war would be over.
he took aim, his hair trigger ready to snap under his finger.
“This is not the way.” A voice like music. His head flew around of its own volition, staring to his left, the direction of the voice, and now nothing but empty wind-swept plain. Gah, his mind was playing tricks on him! He swung back to his rifle, just in time to see the ludicrously feathered hat disappear behind a thread-bare canvas tent.
“fokken khaki hond!”
He threw his rifle over his shoulder and shimmied back from the grassy knoll near the barren prison-ground. The second he was far enough away to be inaudible, he crouched and dog-trotted away through the short scrubby bush. He couldn’t be hearing voices now, not when he was so close...
“Why are you doing this? Why not be peaceful?”
He froze dead. This time turning slowly to his right. there, through the thin brush, he saw a flash of white.
His rifle hit the ground as he ran towards it. That voice...it was real. That colour had to be real, there in the trees, it had to be. It had to be!
Please be real.
he tripped and fell into to the clearing, but scrambled up, ignoring the grazes carved into his palms by the rough ground, just trying to catch a glimpse of that white, beautiful sound. Instead, he was met with the sole of a boot.
*****
jakobus woke up, and tried to hold his aching head but he could not move, he then realised that he had been captured and was about to be interrogated. Though his vision was blurred he could still see that fucking hat as clear as day.
“ahh you're finally awake Jakobu...”
“Mr Van de Merwe to you, Khaki!” snapped Jakobus.
“Ho ho, looks like my men didn't kick you quite hard enough” Captain Luck sneered,
“According to this little piece of paper we found in your back pocket you are not even supposed to be here, oh no, YOU are supposed to be back at base.” Captain Luck jeered as he motioned to the door, which opened to let in a british soldier. “Jak... ehem, Mr Van de Merwe, I would like you to meet private Reedclithe, he will ‘assisting’ me with asking you a few questions.”
“Do you smoke Mr Van de Merwe?” Captain Luck enquired.
“well seeing that I seem to have lost my pipe, you already know the answer to that, don’t yo...” Jakobus was interrupted by the private’s fist. “Now now Mr Van de Merwe, let us not get hostile.” cooed Captain Luck “Reedclithe!, fetch this mans pipe!” Luck ordered.
*****
for the second time that day Jakobus woke up in a strange place, however this time he found himself in what seemed to be the camp’s infirmary. Surrounded by the wounded and sick wives of his fellow countrymen, Anger rose in his throat along with bile at the stench of festering wounds and the disease spread amidst the dying. Jakobus was thus very surprised when he noticed a lady walking towards him through the haze of infection.
Her midnight blue dress was marred only by the white armband she wore, marking her as neutral in this brutal conflict. A veil even concealed her face, but her long dark hair swayed as she bent next to each bed, words of comfort being given to each and every soul, man, woman and innocent child.
she arrived next to Jakobus’ bed and introduced herself “Hello, my name is Emily Hobhouse. What is yours, soldier?” the words flowed like milk and honey from her lips, calming Jakobus as if it was his own mother speaking. He was so entranced by her voice he almost forgot to reply. “Ja... Jakobus Van de Merwe, madam, but you can call me Kobus.”
Her perfect smile remained unchanged, frozen and immobile. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Kobus. I hope to see you well, when next we meet. Have a productive evening.” And just like that, she glided silently away, leaving her odd wording and taking with her the quiet comfort of her presence, and Jakobus once again found himself surrounded by the death of his countrymen.
The destruction of his country.
He looked down at his body. Bruised, beaten, burnt, but not defeated. He looked out of the tent flap, left slightly open to expose him to the lowering twilight. He smiled thinly to himself. “Productive? Oh yes. Very.”
*****
The Escape
Kobus’ mind was turning the second Hobhouse left. Of course, he had a plan to escape. His plan was simple: Sneak out in the dead of night , cut the fences and return with the husbands of some of the women prisoners in this camp, and personally exact his revenge on captain Luck. Maybe he’d get lucky and get to kill some of the camp guards traveling both ways. The plans are the simple ones.
The English had left him in a bed, tied down with nothing but a short length of hemp rope. They hadn’t even bothered undressing him. Teeth made tough on the rough farms of the Free State made short work of the bindings. The medical tent was silent, the patients all asleep, drugged, or dead. He barely even had to sneak out at all. No one was aware enough to hear him.
He looked about the dark canvas town built around him. Heavy canvas tents were set up in a grid-like pattern within the boundaries of the wire fence so that guards would have easy firing lines upon the women and children in case they should ever feel unhappy. He wandered in a random direction through the rows of occupied tents, hearing muted conversation and muffled crying as he passed by. he wished he could save these people, his people, now, but he knew he’d stand no chance. He swore to return yet again as he neared the final few hovels before he could make his bid for freedom.
All was going according to plan until he got to the line of tents that stood next to the perimeter fence. He’d seen no guards, no souls at all. But it made sense for the English to be at the borders of their own death machine. The only crawl space under the fence just had to be where a pair of guards were posted. Kodus swore under his breath and began backing away into the deep shadows, ready to try somewhere else. But then, by some divine intervention: one of the men before him had forgotten his pipe back at his tent.
The forgetful englishman said his goodbyes to his comrade and turned to walk back towards the barrack tent. As the other turned to face the fence and lit a cigarette, Kobus ran through his options: He could still turn away and make a break somewhere else, but the damn Khaki had his back turned, and would never see it coming. This was his only chance. He retrieved the hidden pocket knife that he kept in his boot and crept up to his prey. Kobus snuck to within a few feet of the oblivious soldier, and then lunged the blade for the man’s throat.
Fortune, though, was not with Kobus. The other guard returned “Hey Richard, can I have one of... SHIT look out!” the other man swung his rifle from his shoulder and brought it to bare on his target, and pulled the trigger. Kobus kept pushing forward, bound to take at least one English bastard with him.
Before Kobus’ knife could reach it’s mark in the man’s throat, though, it simply stopped dead, and the rifle’s crack he heard at that moment ended with no sharp pain of a bullet.. He looked at his knife, then at the projectile intended for him, both shrouded in a strange silver light, stopped dead in time. The light that shone from the tools of war, though, paled in comparison to her.
She was undoubtedly a lady, but definitely not human. Swathed in white, her large glowing eyes looked down at the three men in pity. No, not all of them: at Jakobus himself. He was frozen under her gaze, trying to understand what she was. An angel? She had no wings; she did not even have hands as far as he could see, mere opaquely shining and indistinct limbs. Atop her head, pulsing gently and casting a halo about her head, sat a horn, its root buried in flowing silver hair at ran all the way down her neck, and waved behind her entire length. In the glare, Kobus could make out no details, his mind processing nothing but sheer awe. Grief and shame seemed to radiate from her, infecting Kobus’ own heart. He felt regret. And she looked at him, lowering to the ground...and onto all fours. Kobus’ paralysis was broken when her eyeline dropped below His, and he found himself looking only at a creature powerful enough to literally stop a bullet at a thought. And he was terrified.
He realised the only logical course of action... RUN! He kicked up the soldiers fallen rifle - british but better than nothing - and ran for the edge of the camp. He heaved mighty breaths as he looked for a way to get over the large fence, away from the british and that...creature. His previous escape hole now blocked by her otherworldly presence, he scanned the long shrouds of wire rapidly, but no openings presented themselves. He despaired, glancing back at the previously lit-up scene, only to see the dark of the night.
A low whistling sound flew through the cool night air. Kobus spun to face the new threat, his breathing more and more ragged, and pointed the unfamiliar rifle at the shadows. A nebulous aura of pure midnight sky appeared and sailed through the fence right next to him, cutting it open without a sound. He heard something, a voice, in the back of his mind:
‘go now, run’
Kobus didn’t need a second bidding. He dove through the fence and ran for all he was worth. After about five minutes of sprinting he saw a suitable bush to hide in and promptly dove into it. not giving a damn about thorns or any other dangers. After gaining control over his breathing, he waited, for his doom or his salvation he did not know. He looked back at the camp, searching. The entire area was lit with the torches of the awakened british forces, weaving about in blind panic between the tents of their own construction. He did not care for them though, for he looked up to a hillock with the fence, and saw, standing silhouetted against the milling flames, two tall ladies, one in white, and one in midnight blue.
Venture
The first thing Jakobus noticed on waking was the cold.
Bone-chilling dew ran down his collar and seeped into his core, setting him shivering even before he regained consciousness. He cracked open his eyes blearily, staring blankly at the branches surrounding his vision. He tried to roll away from their thorns, only digging more of the sharp barbs deeper into his skin through his cotton coat. It took a moment for him to come to his senses. The second he did, the tension returned to his hardened body.
He was still in the thorn bush he had dived into the night before, where he had cowered from the Englishmen like a cur. Self-loathing rose in him, along with the familiar hatred of the cured Empire forcing him so low in his own country. He would not allow it to continue.
He crawled slowly through the constricting branches, down the embankment behind it, away from the sickening camp and all it represented. But oh, how he swore to return.
*****
Kobus walked. He walked as he had for miles prior, and planned to for miles to come.As the midday sun beat down of him, he dully noted how tired he was. Not physically, years in this terrain doing far more than this made sure of that, but was mentally drained.
Never the less he had to take stock of what had happened over the past few days: He had received orders to return to base, which he disobeyed, He hadn’t been brought up a coward to run. And so, he was ready to kill the manifestation of all his anger, and in one moment, he had lost it to follow a pipe dream. She was gone. He would never see her again. But for half a second he had wished so for her, and he had been captured for his mindlessness. He would not hope again.
The interrogation and beating was nothing akin to the shame of being caught by the scurvy English. However, he had failed to take even one of them, thanks to Her. His thoughts always came back to that angelic figure, who had saved both himself and the British soldier. Why? What good had been done? Both of them planned to kill again. But she saved them nonetheless. And for that, he was thankful to her.
But, at the same time, he was terrified. What was she? what did she mean? Was she an angel, a spirit? Why had she looked at him so deliberately? And then a piece of the night sky itself had cut him a path to safety. More than anything, that was unnerving. If the night was looking out for him, he was pleased, but it could just as easily cut him in half as it had the fence. He owed it respect, now.
He scratched his scraggly beard and slung his rifle more comfortably on his shoulder, still trudging over the crackling grass of the plains. Squinting at the sun, he silently begged it to soften its heat. He didn’t expect the inside of a canvas bag to so totally grant him his wish.
“Jakobus Van der Merwe... I would never of thought you would be a deserter.” a voice from beyond the darkness.
“Now where the hell do you think I was going to you …” Kobus was cut-off by the butt of a mauser.
*****
Kobus was starting to get tired of being knocked out and waking up tied to chairs. It was somewhat of a relief, though, that he had at least been captured by his own side this time. He knew this because the figure before him was none other than General Koos de la Rey.
“Jakobus Van der Merwe, am i correct in asserting that you had received orders to return to base?”
Kobus nodded respectfully. “Yes General”
“And why did you disobey a direct order?”
“I don't remem...”
“DON'T LIE TO ME! Answer the question, Van der Merwe!”
“I wanted to kill the Captain of the camp my wife died in, General.”
“Oh a likely story, and let me guess, you were captured and interrogated, but bravely risked escape?”
“Yes General...”
“Next you’ll be telling angels descended from heaven and aided you!” de la Rey sneered as he paced around the room.
Jobus wisely remained silent this time.
“Do you know what i think Kobus? I think that you honestly did want to kill that captain and that you did get captured. But this is where our two sides of the story differ, you cracked in the interrogation and traded information for your freedom!”
“I would nev...”
“SILENCE khaki dog!” The veteran General grabbed Kobus’ british rifle from a corner and shoved it under the soldier’s nose, “Then tell me why you were captured with a Khaki weapon?”
“I took it from a ... dead English guard”
“of course you did!” de la Rey sighed, suddenly looking tired. He sat in a chair opposite Kobus, his eyes searching the bound man for any sign of foul play.
“How do I tell, Kobus? You could be truthful, a son for the fatherland, but if you are lying, as so many are these days? Of course I can’t trust you. But you may still be of service.” The aging man shouted out, “de Bruin, Come in! It is your turn at this man!”
The door opened to allow the general to leave and a certain Lieutenant de Bruin to enter.
de la Rey simply told de Bruin “I need him alive...”
the Lieutenant walked in and took a seat before simply saying “If you don't answer truthfully, I will have to beat you. Now, state your full name.”
“Jakobus Stervanis Van der Merve”
“Good. Now, where are you from?”
Kobus answered truthfully.
*****
Cold stone met Jakobus’ back as he was dropped onto the bare floor of the holding cell. He sat up and rubbed his hands, finally untied, and nodded to de Bruin in the doorway, and the General behind him. both men doffed their hats politely before the door slammed shut harshly. He crawled into a straw-filled corner and rubbed his face tiredly. de bruin had been calm and thorough, eeking every detail of the camp and its situation from his brain. Jakobus had had to come up with some very fast explanations to the more...miraculous parts of his escape, though. The dishonesty pained him, but how would they have reacted to the truth? No, it was better this way. At least they had decided not to cite him for treason. The worst they would do was discharge him from the army. In that case, he could hunt Luck down without fear of discipline. All he had to do was wait. He tucked himself against the wall, and let himself relax for the first time in days.
He was woken at nightfall by the dull thud of a fist against his door, followed by the jangling of keys. Kobus stood, as he was meant to, and awaited any orders like a soldier should. Even a prisoner should respect the rules. He stood to attention as the door swung open revealing the stocky figure of de Bruin, this time holding a rifle before him. Kobus could see a group of heavily armed men behind the Lieutenant, and gulped. Was this a firing squad? had they changed their minds. His hands started shaking, but he stood strong nonetheless, as a man of his country should. The officer walked into the cell, looking grim and held up the rifle for Kobus’ inspection saying, “What is this, soldier?”
Jakobus trembled, but spoke strongly. “Model ninty-five Mauser bolt action rifle, eight by fifty-seven millimeter, sir. The best gun in the whole Transvaal.”
de Bruin nodded. “Would you be proud to be killed by such a weapon, soldier?”
The tremble finally reached Kobus’ voice. “I would have it no other way, sir.”
de Bruin nodded, looking at the rifle. Then he stood back, allowing Kobus to leave the cell. “After you, Kobus.”
Kobus nodded, and walked out into the group of stoic Boer veterans at the door. They made way for him, watching him closely. de Bruin gestured for Kobus to talk along the hallway, and he complied. He would die with honour if nothing else.
They soon left the veritable fortress overlooking the dim lights of the strategic city of Bloemfontein. In the quadrangle between the building and the dirt road, de Bruin stopped, and gestured to the men behind him, who all raised their rifles and racked the bolts, aiming for Jakobus’ chest.
de Bruin cocked his own rifle and aimed for the lone man standing in the dark. “Are you ready to pay for your crimes, Jakobus Stervanus Van de Merwe?”
Jakobus blinked back a tear. “I will pay what the Nation considers due, sir.”
de Bruin nodded with a slight smile, and settled his aim.
“Three”
Oh god, he was really going to count it down...
“Two”
Jakobus refused to let his eyes shut. he would see the bullets that killed him like a true soldier.
“One”
Jakobus stared past the men aiming for him as he saw their fingers tightening around their triggers
“Fire”
Jakobus flinched, as a series of clicks filled the night air, but his eyes never closed.
de Bruin grinned and stepped forward, opening the bolt and showing Kobus the empty magazine of the rifle, as every man behind him did the same. “You truly are one brave man, Van der Merwe. Here,” de Bruin held out the rifle to the shocked Kobus, “No man can help flinching, but only the best can stare down their death. You are a man of the land. And now, you can have your revenge.”
de Bruin gestured the men behind him, who grinned and saluted. “These are your men, and Luck is your goal. break our families out of that camp, and we can press the war without reprisal. Our army can’t do it, but a small team can. And you’re the man to lead it.”
Jakobus grinned and took the rifle. “Of course sir, it would be my honour!”
de Bruin nodded curtly. “Remember, officially, you died here tonight until you return. This never happened. Go and get ready. You leave in two hours by horse.”
Despite how tired he was, Jakobus saluted and smiled. “A pleasure sir.”
As he walked past the Lieutenant, de Bruin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Oh and Kobus...when you take the camp, ask for a Yolandie de Bruin. Please see her back?”
“Of course, sir”
de Bruin nodded again, and with one last look over the assembled men, walked off into the building.
Jakobus stood before his men, waiting on his word. He had one chance, a god-sent gift, and he would never waste it. He racked his rifle and grinned.
“Let’s get going boys, we have families to save.”
Validation
The cold night air swirled around Jakobus’ new coat as he swung up into the saddle. The heavy heavy home-grown cotton and dense material settled across his shoulders as if tailored for him, its buttoned front left open, and its shoulder straps holding his heavily loaded bandoliers of ammunition in place. New boots, new trousers, a new hat and a brand new rifle left him feeling extraordinarily confident in victory. The British could never compete with such strong men as these.
Each man clothed differently, and yet they looked more professional than the entire British Expeditionary Force in Jakobus’ eyes. Mousers slung before them, loaded saddle bags decorating their steed’s flanks, and grim smiles on every face, these were a special breed, salt of the earth soldiers, fighting for their homes. And no one ever did it better.
Jakobus was anything but objective; even he could hear the sentimentality in those thoughts, but he didn’t care. He was relieved to be there at all.
“So,” He nodded to the man beside him, a bearded hulk of a farmer, “You have heard my name. May I hear yours?”
“you can call me Dawid Van Rensburg sir.”
Kobus nodded curtly. “A good name. Of the Koffiefontein Van Rensburgs?”
“No unfortunately not, sir, though we are related by an uncle.” The other man added conversationally.
“Ah,” Kobus nodded, flicking his reins over, “I was good friends with Mathies Van Rensburg in my younger days. Tell me, though, these men, have you all worked together much?”
Dawid twisted in his saddle and pointed out a few men, who took it as a signal to ride up alongside their new leader. “That is Henk de Bruin, lieutenant de Bruin’s nephew. That there is Andries Swart, of the Thaba 'Nchu Swarts, and this,” He gestured towards a sullen-looking man riding alongside them, “And this is Willem Geldenhuis. These men have fought with me, and each other, many times before. All of these men are well fielded and expert hunters. I have seen many of them fight over the past year, and couldn’t ask for better men. Would you like me to introduce to them?”
Jakobus nodded. “Please do, Dawid, I would like to know the men fighting at my side.”
With a smile and a glint to his eye, Dawid happily complied.
*****
After about two and a half hours of riding, the landscape became familiar to Kobus. He decided to have the men start to set-up the camp while he would scout out the rest of the way on foot. “Right you men, set-up camp for the night here. I am going to scout ahead on foot, I will be back before sunset. Oh! almost forgot, if you hear gunfire come and help me... carry back the khaki I shot!” With that Kobus walked away to a chorus of rowdy laughter.
He snuck cautiously to his destination, Keeping his distance this time around. Kobus had spotted a butte that would give a full view of the camp the last time he was there, but he hadn’t climbed it because he would not have been able to take a shot at that range and be sure of his target. This time, however, it would serve his needs nicely.
He walked to the side facing away from the camp lest someone spot him. This was a well loved pastime and practical skill of the Afrikaans people in general, earning them the title of ‘Rock spider’. Kobus had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed rock-climbing, but those pleasant childhood memories of hiking and climbing with his friends came flooding back as he scrambled up the face. From more or less halfway up the steep talus, he could see for miles, the flat golden landscape seeming to go on forever. It was beautiful. That beauty in that moment was surpassed only by the view from the peak itself. Looking away from the camp, Kobus found himself muttering, “I wish Marie could see this...” After savouring the memory of his beloved wife, he turned and walked towards the camp,bellying out and crawling up to the very edge..
From his vantage point, Kobus could see the whole camp, the rows of tents and the officers quarters arrayed in neat rows. Kobus drafted a rough map of the camp and the surrounding area to aid in planning the attack. Kobus marked the tents on his map accordingly; infirmary, barracks, officers quarters and prisoners tents. Not to mention the vast array of small hovel-like tents that the English considered good enough for the wives and children of their enemies...
It was beginning to get late and Kobus still had a ways to go before dark.
*****
Kobus got back to his men who had already set up the camp and were enjoying some properly spiked ‘Boeretroos’. One would swear it was more ‘Mampoer’ than Coffee. Dawid gave Kobus a mug of what he thought was coffee, he took a big swig and regretted it...
“ahhhh ssss whooo!, do you men want some coffee in your whiskey?”
The men laughed at their leaders reaction, some even jokingly declining his offer. After finishing his coffee Kobus stood-up to address his men.
“Brothers, we are here to do a job. You all know what we are here to do. This is not going to be a briefing that will happen tomorrow, for now I want you to sleep. Rest your minds and bodies so that we may have strength for the task that is at hand. And one more thing... you must sleep with one eye open, I don’t know if the Khakis patrol this far out. Willem, set a watch rotation. Goodnight, Brothers.”
With that, Kobus slid himself into his own bedroll, and closed his eyes.
*****
Dreams were never very important to Jakobus, mere images that the tired mind flashed before his mind’s eye. Even the brightest dreams faded in comparison to that which he truly loved. And yet, as he walked contentedly through the bright cornfields towards his sprawling home, he couldn’t help but think that at least one of those dreams had come true.
He remembered perfectly. Those bright-shining hazel eyes that drew him back at the end of every day, her locks like an auburn waterfall across her shoulders, her smile that invited him lovingly through the door with the setting sun. He looked at the sun now, frozen at midday, and he bathed in it. He closed his eyes and felt the warm Transvaal breezes gently whip at his loosely cropped hair, bringing him the scent of ripe crops, warm bread and burning thatch.
He knew before his eyes locked on the scene: His house engulfed in flame, the laughter of the English horsemen that circled it, and the screaming of women. He started running, slowly at first, the first wisps of smoke swirling in his wake. He got faster, He WILLED himself to go faster. his feet barely touched the ground, the corn parting before him, the smoke cleared in a tunnel leading straight to his flaming homestead. Nothing would stop him.
Marie.
A horse barreled soundlessly into his path, the sneering man in the saddle waving his burning brand. Kobus roared and leapt at the murderous Englishman, tackling him from the saddle with an all-too-real impact. Instantly, the sensation of the world tore through him body, the shock of the fall, the knife plunged into his chest, the sight of the conflagration destroying his home, and the wailing scream that signalled the end of his life.
Marie
He saw her, just for an instant. her eyes held fear, her hair burnt as it was, was just another hand-hold for her captor. Kobus shuddered against the blade through his body, but the man holding it merely twisted it deeper Kobus swore in pain, but his eyes never left her, even as they threw her over a saddle and rode off with her. Kobus kept his eyes on her until the smoke finally swallowed the final glimpse of her tattered white dress.
Marie.
The next thing he saw was the night sky. Beside him lay the charred and fallen timbers of his house, but that barely affected him. She was gone, and so was his home. The stars shone warmly down upon him, offering him solace. Through the burning pain lancing across his torso, he begged them to take him, but they never did.
Marie
“You miss her”
He stared at the Moon, its sympathetic eyes looking down upon his broken form. He choked out the only answer he could.
“More than life”
The moon stared down, a tear forming upon its own visage.
“That night must have broken your soul more than any pain of the flesh.”
He grinned past the blade through him. “They took her. They took EVERYTHING.”
The Moon nodded. “I understand. Jakobus. You hate the many for what the few took from you, but the few deserve it. Rise.”
Jakobus stood up and dusted off his coat, looking up at the moon. “Do I have your blessing for what I am about to do?”
The Moon came down and stood next to him, her radiant form indistinguishable from the night that completely surrounded them, cloaking them in velvety safety and warmth. “No. You plan on killing and maiming to avenge your own loss, while inflicting loss upon others. You will only continue the cycle of hatred your kind have propagated. But rescuing the innocents of this strife. THAT I will help you with. Under my night, you will have success.”
Jakobus heard her words reverberating through him, And he heard them in his soul. “I will do anything to save others from my loss. Under your night, the enemy will be broken, but not lost.”
The Moon smiled at him, her eyes shining. “That is all I ask, Kobus. I know you miss her, but fighting under her name is mere anger. Remember who the real enemy is, and fight them when they show themselves. Pawns are not at fault for their master’s crimes.”
She retreated back up amongst her stars, to watch over the world. Jakobus stood there, amidst the wreck of his home, staring after her until her eyes closed to him. Then he laughed. There was a war to fight, and here he was, talking to the Moon.
*****
Kobus woke-up with a start in a cold sweat in unison with his men to the sound to the soft call of the watchman. A faint rustling could be heard in the grass surrounding their camp. The men eyed it nervously.
The man beside him tapped Kobus’ shoulder.
“Sir, there is something out there” he whispered.
“How many?” Kobus replied, immediately formulating a plan.
“five or six, Sir”
“Wait until they are close, then take them down quietly . No shots fired; we can't afford to have the whole bloody camp coming to find us” Kobus whispered back, waving his men out into the plain’s grasses, his silent order clear.
It didn’t take ten minutes for the most skilled hunters of the Afrikaans people to return. Six young English guardsmen, bound and gagged like animals, were dragged forward and dumped into the sputtering light of an oil lantern. One of them was crying.
Willem sneered at the man’s weakness, and raised his rifle to strike it from him, but Jakobus stilled his hand.
“Don’t. He’s just a pawn. He’s not at fault for his masters’ crimes.” He whispered. He leant down and raised the boy’s chin, looking into his eyes. In English, he asked quietly, “Do you fear us, or the pain we could bring you?”
The boy failed to respond.
Kobus pressed on. “Would knowing that no harm will befall you ease your fear?”
The young man stopped snivelling.Kobus stood, but didn’t look at his men, rather looking past them, to the hills. The butte from the day before caught his eye. At its highest pinnacle, he saw, or thought he saw, the faintest glimmer of fluttering white.
Jakobus turned, looking about his gathered nonplussed troops. “Tomorrow, we plan. Tomorrow night, we will destroy that camp. You can see the quality of the soldiers they have, just boys to guard women and children. but these men are not to be harmed. they aren’t at fault. So, men, tonight, we sleep. We take back what is ours soon enough.”
The gathered Boers did not respond. How could they? Jakobus didn’t care. He simply lay back down and stared at the Moon til sleep took him.
Decisions and Preparations
He woke to a calm Transvaal morning. Kobus opened his eyes to the soft dawn glow, filled with an eclectic mix of certainty and internal conflict. To settle his mind, Kobus started a small fire and brewed a hot pot of fortified Boeretroos coffee. As kobus waited for his drink to brew, he noticed a faint dust cloud in the distance. Standing, he recognized the tell-tale signs of a wagon train coming in his direction, and woke his men. Kobus asked the man closest to him, “Henk. What is going on with that wagon train? Our nearest supply-line is miles away.”
“No sir, those aren't supply carts. Those are wagons sent to help remove the prisoners.” Henk explained
“Right, so the brass do have hearts after all...” mused Kobus and returned his thoughts to his now ready pot of coffee.
The rest of the men were still curled up in their bedrolls, willing the sun to somehow be extinguished to extend their rest. Kobus smiled knowingly as he poured himself a cup, announcing to his men that the coffee was ready. He was suddenly surrounded by a dozen eager and very awake soldiers. Kobus smirked. Works every time .
Kobus slurped at his tin cup before calling for Dawid. When the man saluted, Kobus pointed at the wagon line in the distance, “Maybe our comrades there would appreciate a pot themselves? Would you mind inviting them over Quietly, mind.”
Dawid nodded and scurried off through the tall grass, but not before snagging a cup for himself, much to the camp’s amusement. Kobus took the moment to check on the prisoners.
He walked around the the cleared patch of ground in which the sorry-looking Englishmen were trussed, embarrassingly, to their own stripped down rifles. The boy from the previous night had been bumped free from the fearful bunch of Brits, probably for cowardice. Jakobus wordlessly tipped the boy back upright, using the buys rifle-strap to bind him to the nearest other prisoner. Ignoring the mumblings among the Brits, Kobus picked out the oldest-looking of the soldiers. The boy refused to return Kobus’ gaze as the Afrikaaner untied him and pulled him aside.
Kobus smiled grimly at the boy, holding out his tin cup and saying in english, “Coffee, boy?”
The young soldier didn’t need a second bidding. He grasped the cup with bound hands and chugged it. With a sigh, he said in a heavy accent, “Christ that was good...um, thank you, sir.”
At least he’s polite , Kobus thought. “So, feel a bit more like talking, Englishman?”
The boy let out a short bark of laughter. “Englishman, is it? No, sir, I’m Welsh. I want to be here, serving King and Country , as much as you want to serve tea to the Camp Captain!”
Kobus took off his hat, frowning. “Then why are you here? Why not just stay at home?”
The Welshman smiled thinly. “Sir, staying home would have seen me in the coal mines. Plus, the Draft would have seen me here eventually. Rather here than India, I say. They certainly wouldn't be giving me coffee after making such a hash of a patrol.”
Kobus thought about that. These soldiers were forced to be here? They weren’t fighting for anything, they were fighting on orders alone. He lent forward and retrieved his emptied cup, patting the Welshman on the shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up about that, you never stood much of a chance against us anyway.”
The Welshman looked at him quizzically. “Gotta say, you don’t match the stories we've heard about you Dutchies at all, sir.”
Kobus raised a brow. “And you, boy, aren’t even English. Just stay quiet and I’ll see you get a cozy cell in Pretoria. We treat our prisoners better than you have our families tied in that camp.” Kobus rebound the man to his comrades and walked back to the main group.
The wagon drivers arrived just in time to see the last of Kobus’ men fill his mug with the last drops of coffee in the pot, to the silent victory of the fighting men and the displeasure of the drivers. There had always been a mutual dislike between the fighting men and the drivers. The fighting men scorned the drivers for often avoiding getting in harm’s way, and the drivers disliked the fighting men because the soldiers always made more work than needed for the poor horses and oxen.
The drivers’ jobs where to get men, machines and supplies from where they were to where they needed to be, and they did it well, no matter what the soldiers said. If a particular path had been cut-off or blocked by the British, the drivers would make it their business to find a way around or die trying.
Kobus knew that the drivers would be essential to the operation, so when he spotted the growing unrest among the crews, he acted quickly. ”Willem, you finished the coffee. make some more for these chaps, there’s a good man.” Willem unhappily started to brew a fresh pot.
“Alright, now that everyone is awake and present we can start with the plan, so everybody gather round.”
Twelve men started to form a circle around their commander. Kobus noticed that the drivers did not join in.
“I’m sorry, did you drivers want written invitations?” Kobus asked sarcastically
“But sir, we are just drivers, not soldiers...” one replied.
“Now you listen here. You all are proud soldiers of the republic. Now get yourself to this briefing now.” Kobus spat the recalcitrant drivers
“Yes, SIR!” The drivers called in unison, dashing into the circle
Kobus nodded with a huff, then pulled out the map he had made of the area, unfolded it and started to explain his plan.
“Alright, men so this is how it is going to happen...”
*****
The sun hung low in the sky, each man busying himself with his own preparations for the night to come. Some disassembled their rifles and cleaned them, others blackened their faces with grease from the wagon axles. One of the drivers delivered a short sermon and prayer session for those who cared to join.
Kobus watched the moon rising over the plains as dusk fell, the cool night breezes sweeping up from the south. He stood up and simply said to his men with a nod; “It is time.”
The men gathered and readied themselves to move, each man knowing his own part and the part of every other man in this operation. Like a self-assembling jigsaw puzzle, they began to move swiftly and silently towards the camp, their gear wrapped in rags, soundless in the night..
Kobus reminded them “Remember, we are here to get the prisoners out. If they hear gunfire, they might do something rash. Don’t start the main show til we get the families out. And capture if you can, knock ‘em out if you can’t”
Kobus turned to his core men. Dawid saluted as Henk, Andries and Willem lifted their rifles. Kobus grinned as he racked his own, checking the deadly ammunition within. “Right, men. Let’s get this done.”
Retribution amidst Liberation
The pieces finally all came together.
Kobus sat before the fence, staring across the beaten field filled with dull tents. He counted the rows to make sure he knew his position, then signaled behind him, calling up two men. One man produced a pair of pliers and started silently cutting the steel wires, and the other holding them to move them out of the way. Kobus signaled for two more men to stay at the hole in the fence and for the rest, the select band of most skilled, to continue to the tents they had been assigned to clear.
Kobus scurried low to the ground, avoiding a passing guard. These soldiers must have been blind to miss the raiders, but so it was. Kobus reached the the first tent without incident, and stopped to watch the others. Dawid nodded as he sneaked into the first tent of his row, and Kobus smiled grimly as he did the same. Pulling aside the first tent flap, he reached in slowly with his M 96 pistol drawn. Silent, sleeping bodies filled the tent to capacity, women and children all, lining the floor under dry, thin blankets. He made his way to the nearest woman and placed his hand over her mouth she awoke with a start and looked at him, Kobus placed a finger from his free hand over his own mouth “shhh...”
She nodded, the truth dawning. He instructed her in Afrikaans to help him, and together they woke the entire tent in silence. Kobus pointed the way to the back of the tent, where he slit the canvas with his pocket-knife. After checking the surrounds, Kobus led his group to join the exodus of prisoners barely visible amidst the shadows.
Kobus broke the crowd up into a few smaller groups for the dash to the fence line. With a silent signal, he led the first group cross the field, like a buffalo crossing a crocodile-infested river. Kobus left the group in the capable hands of the Boers guarding the fence. Kobus noticed three slumped forms against the fence, propped up by their Lee-Metford rifles. He raised an eyebrow at the Boer nearest him. These British soldiers were making it too easy.
He repeated his low dash across the field, nabbing the next group, and the next, until all the women and children in the tent were safely under the command of the man tasked to to lead them to the waiting wagons.
Kobus made his way back to the rows of canvas prisons to the next tent and did the same as the first, waking the family members of the nation and leading them to the sweet promise of freedom. Kobus led another group out into the night, bundled in their blankets, but stopped when he noticed the tent up ahead, it’s wall emblazoned with a hastily painted red cross. He looked about before seeing Henk in the dark, leading his own group. Kobus gestured for his followers to tag along with his countrymen: Kobus had something to see to.
Kobus pushed into the infirmary tent, the same one he had escaped from not days earlier. He looked about, fully prepared to carry out the ill and wounded, but was surprised to see that every bed along the wall, and even the nurses station was empty. His eyes roved about, then swept back, just making sure that...Hang on...
He pivoted back to the nursing station, and the tall woman standing there, dressed in midnight blue. She regarded him curiously as she held a child close to her body, the youngster wrapped in a pure white blanket, her auburn hair black in the darkness...
“Jakobus van de Merwe, it is good to see you again.” The Lady said, raising her chin slightly, a hint of defiance in her face.
Kobus bowed low, “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Emily Hobhouse. I must ask you to accompany me, this camp is being broken out, and it may not be safe for you or the young one.”
She smiled in the face of his formality. “Oh, Kobus, I think you’ll find we could be of much more service than you suspect. Our duty is to help those in peril, and this camp has far too many in pain for us to abandon.”
Kobus was confused, but from what he’d heard of this Englishwoman, she had always been slightly cracked. Oh yes, he’d asked after her. An aid worker, a campaigner for the end of the war, and a famous saint of the Boer families. He would not let her get caught up in what was about to happen. “Ma’am, if it’s to help you’re aiming for, I’d suggest following me. This camp will cease to exist come daybreak.”
She looked shocked. Her brows beetled into a scowl. “You will kill the English guardsmen, leave this place in ruins?”
Kobus shook his head. “Ruins yes, but if all goes to plan, I will not kill unless I have to-”
“...we shall see...”
The soft feminine voice sifted through the air that smothered it and struck him in the chest. He stared at the child in Hobhouse's arms. The child turned to face him, her eyes perfectly clear in the gloom as if alight, their gaze nearly piercing his soul. She whispered in a voice he recognized, but could never accept,”...don't turn around...”
Kobus stared at the little girl in white, his mind melting. He was only wrenched back to the world when he heard a familiar, hated voice from behind him “Game’s up, Rockspider.”
“Ahh, Mr Reedclithe, good to hear from you again.” Kobus said sarcastically.
“Impressive, Mr van de Merwe. I must say you did catch us with our trousers down...” Came the snarled reply, and the familiar scrape and click of a closing rifle bolt.
Kobus turned and faced the hulking British Private. “That was the idea. So what are you going to do with me Reedclithe?”
The man smirked and raised his rifle and, aiming at Kobus’ head “I am going to kill you Mr van de Merwe.”
Kobus stared down the barrel, his mind whirling through his options, if he acted now, he might be able to-
Don’t
He heard, but tried to grab the rifle anyway. Only, he couldn’t move. At all. He found himself feet from a loaded bullet with his name written on it. But that voice...The angel .
Reedclithe didn’t let him think further. The Brit yanked the trigger violently, but Kobus couldn’t bring himself to be surprised when nothing happened: He’d seen the faint silver glow over the breach. Reedclithe frowned and pulled the bolt open, ejecting the round and loading another. He re-aimed and-
-hit the ground with a dull thud. The private’s unconscious body fell to the ground to reveal Dawid Van Rensburg standing just behind him.
“Sir! Some woman in a purple dress warned me you might need some help here and...wait...” Dawid looked part Kobus at Emily Hobhouse, confusion playing across his features.
“Pick him up Dawid, I want to have a chat with that one,” Kobus Instructed, ignoring his comrades uncertainty, “Miss Emily, please, let’s go.” She nodded, and the child in her arms buried her face in the deep blue dress of her caretaker. Kobus tried not to think about it.
Dawid hoisted the British soldier to his shoulders and dog-trotted into the night as Kobus led Emily into the night air. He wasn’t sure whether to take her hand or run screaming from the pair, but he settled for standing a few feet behind her, letting her follow Dawid among the tents.
The sounds of gunfire started to ring out.
“Dawid, I think that is our cue to leave...”
The party started to run to the hole in the fence.
Kobus saw that there were six men on a hill providing covering fire to the men still getting out of the camp and the man left at the hole. As Kobus and Dawid sprinted through the gap, he tapped the mans shoulder and shouted “That’s it, we need to go!”
The men reached the line of men firing to keep the British from giving case. He grabbed Dawid’s shoulder, shouting over the crack of mauser fire, “Did we get all the families out?!”
“Dawid nodded as he raised his own rifle. “Henk and Andries are setting the breakers now!”
As he spoke, smoke began to rise over the southern edge of the camp, the breeze stoking up flames to follow it. The fire jumped from tent to tent, melting into the treated canvas and burning it up in hot, vicious bites. Kobus turned back to the men around him, firing over the camp. “Good work men!, Listen for the signal to retreat.”
Kobus and Dawid scurried to the wagons. Dawid tied up Private Reedclithe and dropped him into the last wagon in line, the one that held only a few woman, all staring hatefully at the British prisoners from the day before, who cowered at their end. With the sudden addition of Reedclithe, they cowered further into one another. Reedclithe had been notorious as a henchman, apparently.
Kobus turned to Hobhouse and the girl in white, still clutched to each other as they watched the spreading flames. Emily turned her wet eyes to Kobus. “You said you’d do no harm...”
“Ma’am, I didn’t,” Kobus rumbled, “But I can’t deny my men, and in case you have failed to notice, this is a war: they knew the risks. But we did as little as we could, I swear. Now please, would you get into the wagon? We need to prepare.” He watched as the tall lady in blue nodded and climbed lithely into the wagon. Kobus hesitated before lifting the girl up to her guardians’ waiting arms. Even as Emily held the child close in the wagon’s dim interior, the girl’s eyes never left kobus’s. Kobus stared back for a minute, before breaking his gaze and shouting out, “Why am I still seeing wagons?! MOVE!”
The drivers quickly put space between themselves and the camp, heading for their headquarters across the plains, taking a winding route that would hide them among the buttes and conical hills. Kobus gave the wagons a decent head-start before letting out an almighty whistle that could be heard for miles around. in minutes, eleven men had assembled at his position. Kobus noticed that someone was missing and asked “Who’s not here?!”
“It’s Geldenhuis, Willem isn’t here, sir!”
“Shit...Well, we don't have time to wait now, the Brits could get organized in minutes. We have to move. Ugh...We’ll raise a glass to the man later. But now we need to distract the Khaki’s and keep them away from the wagons, mount UP!”
Kobus looked back at the camp, calculating. Already, he could see the faces of shocked British troops rising from the shattered remnants of their prison camp. Soldiers in khaki uniforms began running about and trying to salvage what they could, or pull the injured from the burning wreckage. And then, He rode out. On his white charger, pistol brandished in the air, Luck galloped over the struggling soldiers and glared at the retreating Boer force, nothing but a few soldiers and some wagons, that had utterly destroyed his stranglehold on the Boer Republics. His eyes blazed with rage.
Kobus flipped him off and swung into the saddle.
The men around him mounted their horses as well, and spun to prepare a fall-back line. The families had to get away, and that meant the British had to be held where they were. Kobus looked across the plains to where the wagons were disappearing, carrying all the missing women and children, the British prisoners, and Hobhouse, with that little girl in white, and his mind set one thought in stone:
Luck would never get them.
High ground
The Freestate sun blazed down on the wagon train and its ragged force of protectors.
Kobus’ men and their horses were already well on their way to the small butte they had decided to use as their position. From there, they could look all they way across the golden plains, and guard the wagon train as it crawled across the ground made rough by time and weather.
There, Kobus would make his stand.
After about half an hour the men were in sight of the ridge they had chosen. They had outridden the lumbering wagon train already, their swift mountain-bred horses easily pacing the oxen and draft horses pulling the rescued families. Kobus looked back, biting his lip; they were too far behind...The British army, large, heavy-handed and inelegant as it was, was not slow: European-bred battle chargers bore their cavalry, their infantry the best and worst men drawn from an Empire that spanned a quarter of the globe, veterans side by side with convicts, crack-shots rubbing shoulders with cut-throats. Kobus didn't know which he feared more.
And he did fear. Not for himself, but for those under his charge. He had eleven men against a thousand, them well-equipped and driven by brilliantly terrifying officers who could push a man to fury with mere words.
Kobus had never felt so impotent as then.
No. No, he’d felt worse, once. He’d felt his world be torn away at a whim, by a sneering man on a white horse. The man who chased him now. Retribution was at hand. By the time Kobus’ heart hardened with that resolve, he and the remaining soldiers of his party had reached the hill. Five hundred meters above the valley they’d ridden around, the valley the English would be forced through, under the withering fire of crack hunters with rifles that out-ranged the old Lee-Metfords the English still used. Kobus had planned this. A gamble, perhaps, but a good bet at least. So long as the British didn’t catch wind of his plan, they would be decimated.
He twisted in his saddle, glancing around approvingly, before shouting for his men, “Henk! We need a hole. A long hole, from here to there.” The man immediately set to, pulling out a trench shovel and sliding from his saddle. Dawid began doing the same, but Kobus stopped him with a call, “Dawid.”
“Yessir?” Dawid paused. He swung back up and kicked his horse over to his commander.
Kobus’ eye’s were locked on the valley as he spoke; “The wagons aren't going to get past the hills, Dawid.”
“Yes sir,” Dawid answered, slight dread creeping into his voice, “Should we ride to cover them?”
“No,” Kobus grunted, spinning back to his men, “Andries, you know the flags, correct?”
The barrel-chested corporal nodded mutely, patting the flag pouch at his side. Kobus pointed down over the ridge to the train of wagons rounding the hill they stood on. The train had already passed through the valley, but still, they were not far enough away to avoid fire. And, so, Kobus sent an order: “Tell the drivers to wheel around the hill. Have them come halfway up to us, and set up a circle. The British won’t know to go over the right-hand pass; they’ll drive up the valley, where we will hold them.”
Mutters spread as Andries waved his signal flags. The men watched the wagon train pull slowly to the right and begin the slow ascent of their hill, climbing the side facing away from the assumed British line of advance. Out of the line of fire, but not out of danger.
Kobus heard them, but did not waver. Instead, he stood in his saddle, and raised his Mauser, shouting, “Men! Brothers! We've ridden long these past days, and hard. We’ve fought like Hunters, stalked our prey and struck it’s bones. Now it is wounded; it is angry. It will come for us! But now is the time for us to fight like soldiers! We, the few and fast, against the many that stagger after us. Be we are the better: We can out-shoot, outflank and outmaneuver them, yes, even their cavalry. From up here, with the sun behind us, they’ll never get a shot off straight. And the wagons, loaded with ammunition, and if we’re lucky even a cannonade. We don’t need to kill them all. But we can make the price they pay too steep for them to pursue us. Victory, brothers, will be getting home. I believe the women of Bloemfontein are already warming the coffee pots!”
They cheered him as he fell back to his saddle. A grim look crossed his face as the golden light filtered through the kicked-up dust of the entrenching men. A handful of Voortrekkers, farmers only, had held off ten thousand Zulu warriors at the battle of Blood River without a single lost man. Kobus knew his men could do it again, here. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake…
*****
The dimness of the wagon’s interior did nothing to hide their unsettled glances. The british prisoners had gathered at the front of the wagon, deep in the gloom, as far away from the two mysterious figures staring intently out of the opening at the back. A tall lady all in midnight blue, and a younger child, all in white,standing with all the grim gravity of her senior, staring across the plains as the dust cloud still distant, grew in size.
In a voice far too quiet to be heard and too mature to come from the mouth of a child so young, the girl in white spoke to her companion; “They’re coming.”
Emily Hobhouse held onto the canvas arching above her, unmoving. “I did all I could, you know that. We cannot risk the lives of all those who need our help. If the worse comes, it will come at Night. They are safe, Young One.”
The girl in white nodded slowly. “Those left behind will feel the coldness we leave behind. We break the hearts of a people this night.”
And yet we heal the hearts most wanting,” Hobhouse soothed, “We right a wrong, and pave the path to righteousness.”
“Aye” The girl muttered, “But right by who?”
Hobhouse didn’t answer as the wagon swung to the right, up the hill.
*****
The line was drawn.
Kobus stood upon an embankment thrown up for his sharpest shooters, a four-man team of crack shots who could hit a running springbuck at two hundred meters. Between them rested a small four pound cannonade, crewed by three of the drivers from the now-stationary caravan just below them on the hill. The wagons were arrayed in a semicircle along the hill, whose shear sides protected the wagon’s inward-facing sides, and to an extent, the ends of the line. They were further protected by two more cannonades and well-armed, if nervous drivers. The rest of Kobus’s men were at the base of the hill on either side, mounted, ready to ride and harry any cavalry sorties there. Under the cover of the cannonades there, Kobus hoped it would be enough.
The British Army was here. Just out of range, their numbers swelled into the bottleneck of the valley, caught between the two hills, one a near insurmountable butte, and the other bristling with motivated arms all pointing in their direction.
Not that they knew that yet.
The Khakis approached slowly, their cavalry, fewer than forty fully-prepared mounts, led a marching infantry force clearly numbering in the hundreds. The British Army had thousands of horses for the war, but to find enough water for battle-chargers at a prison camp? Kobus was thankful for the first time for the aridity of his homeland.
No carts or wagons slowed the marching force; Kobus frowned at that. Surely, if they planned to chase the wagon train to the edge of the Boer Territories, they would have brought supplies? He did not dwell on this though. They seemed to have no cannon either. He sighed in relief at that; his small fortification could be easily scattered by anything upwards of a six-pounder: the British had breechloaders.
He sat low on the berm then. A British horseman rode forward, raising a glass to his eye. On of those old-fashioned, single-piece glasses the British Scouts used. Dawid raised his binoculars beside Kobus. The lieutenant spoke softly, “He doesn't see us, sir.”
Kobus remained silent, but took the firing cord of the cannonade from the shivering hands of a wagon driver. The silent force of Boers watched their enemy stumble forward into the trap.
Suddenly Dawid swore and dropped his binoculars “Willem, the traitor! He’s with the English!”. The break in the silence rattled the men around them, and somewhere, Kobus never found out where, a shot was fired.
A British man went down.
A hundred English rifles leveled at the hilltop and, at an unheard order, let storm and fury guide them.
Thus, battle was joined, and hearts across worlds cried at the loss to come.
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. The briefest flash of light adorned the twilight as the final rays of the sun dropped below the horizon, making way for the moon to grace the the evening sky. Its path, though, betrayed the emotion behind its movement, at least to those who understood such things.
“What is it that troubles you this evening, Little Sister?” Celestia asked from the edge of the balcony, watching the Princess of the Night as she wearily stepped down to the ground.
Luna cast her eye over the calm evening skyline, and sighed “Our world is so peaceful, Sister. we have maintained order for countless years, but you and I both know that this harmony is a rarity in the way of our world. It saddens me to know that others are not so fortunate as we are.”
“Oh, Luna...” Celestia murmured, nuzzling her sibling comfortingly, “I know that bearing witness to the suffering beyond our realm is no easy load to bear, but we have already interfered too much. Neither us nor them can sustain much more.”
Luna swept past the solar Princess, unplacated. “No, Celestia, we know they can be as kind as us, and peace is their goal much like ours. They are victims, only needing to be saved from themselves! We know this,” Luna looked back into the royal apartments, her eyes following a white-coated mare, a servant to the Princesses, go about her business in silence. “We know that they can be gentle and kind, as she is.”
Celestia sighed, but nodded. “Yes Luna, I know, but we cannot bear so many new residents to our kingdom, and none who may bring with them their violent natures. I wish to help them, too, but we have Equestria to care for...”
“Then I shall go.”
Celestia’s head snapped up at luna’s proclamation, “Excuse me?”
Luna nodded emphatically. “I shall go. I shall help them, and save those who need, who deserve saving. There may be many, but only those without hope. And maybe...just maybe I can help bring them peace.”
Celestia was astounded. “Luna...that would be very dangerous...are you sure you would risk yourself for the peace of another world?”
“Sister, a thousand years ago I risked the safety of my own in greed. I owe a debt to myself...and to you...to help where I may. Yes, I am sure.”
Celestia thought calmly about her sister’s words. Yes, it would be dangerous. Many lives would be risked, but countless others could be saved. And if anypony could do it, it would be Luna herself.
She smiled tightly to the younger alicorn. “Very well, Luna. I wish you well in your journey. I suggest taking some...help, though.” Celestia motioned towards the pale servant pony, a young unicorn.
Luna smiled too, and nodded. “Of course sister, I would not go without her, I wold have need of her knowledge. And Celestia?”
The elder sibling focussed on the younger.
“Thank you.”
