The Six: Cacotopia

By David Ulnar-Slew

On the hard, wide open plains of the kingdom an unyielding horde approaches. 

The Gray clouds of winter have yet to draw back.
An assorted band of warriors, thieves, soldiers and villagers must prove their grit against a threat more solid than a mountain. The craftiest of them, Naomi, must journey with a rival to find much needed aid.
The survival of them all can only be accomplished if nothing short of a miracle occurs.
Deadly barbarian women, crafty thieves, and brave soldiers come together with villagers fighting for their homes. Just when they think all maybe lost and things could be no worse, their hope is shattered. Enemies are now on two fronts and the newest threat makes them truly petrified. Their souls and the fate of an entire world hang in the balance.
Two monumental forces both converge on the little village, intent on crushing the population of the town. Who will be spared?
The Six is a serial fantasy novel that features fast-paced action, a bit of horror, a few laughs, and some strange romance. Author David Ulnar-Slew is redefining fantasy with an ensemble piece that will change your perspective on the entire genre. If you love Action, fantasy, horror, or thrillers then you will enjoy how they all converge in this epic story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Ulnar-Slew
• Release date: Jun 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386225270

Book preview

Hunger Pervades

The Band of the Jackal thundered across the flat land of the Mill Steppes. They moved like a great beast, hungry and wild. It was the job of Tuhn Brid to keep this beast fed. He stopped his horse and looked off into the distance at the last farmland before crossing the Loft Mountains. His stare seemed to go far off in the distance as if what was in front of him wasn’t really his focus. The bandit horde’s second, Ret Unif, knew better. The keen mind behind the eight days growth of beard and layers of trail mud was busy at work considering their next move. Ret stopped his animal next to the leader and stared in the same direction. Seeing no reason to break the silence, he waited patiently. Neither man used words needlessly; this resulted in everyone listening much more carefully when they chose to speak.

Come, ride with me over to the woods edge, Ret. We have things to discuss. Tuhn was never a man to create a sense of drama. There was no doubt a practical reason for his request. He turned his mount and started towards the wood's edge several hundred feet from the line of the moving horde.

Ret turned his horse and followed. If Tuhn had something to say that was not for the ears of the horde it was important. Enough at least to obey commands even in a horde where every man thought he was beholden to no one in the end. He had learned to trust the judgment of his mentor and friend. That trust had never failed him. He was rich with wealth hidden in many places along the coast of the continent. It was good to be the second; you could be almost as rich as the leader and there was no target on your back every day of your life.

He caught up to the bandit chieftain at the edge of the woods. Tuhn had turned his horse so he was half looking at the riding horde and half looking at the nearby settlement of Mulish. He looked pensive, like something was undecided. He knew Tuhn was not indecisive by nature so the question at hand must be weighty indeed.

Ret knew he had the right to speak first to the leader, especially in private company. Mulish looks quiet. Are we going to take them?

The Jackals took them out of necessity right after the last harvest so they had enough to lay low. The older man shook his head.

Ret nodded. Fine then. We have enough to cross the mountains to raid on the southern cities. We will get them on the way back. They will have pulled in the final harvest by then. We can use them to supply for the winter again this year.

Tuhn looked torn. If we do that, lots of them will starve. It will mean less for us the next time we pass through the following year.

So be it. We will cross the mountains further west and leave them alone till then to bulk up. Ret paused to see his leader’s reaction to his proposed plan.

Very well. Let some of them die later rather than sooner. It will keep them in line anyway. It is best that way. Come let us catch up with the others. I don’t want them crossing onto the pass without us. They can be fools when left alone for too long. Tuhn turned his mount and moved off. Ret started to follow closely behind.

Ret paused and glanced at the undergrowth. A rodent must be scurrying about and had shaken the bush slightly. He turned and followed his leader.

An old woman trembled in the brush at the edge of the forest. She dared not move nor make a sound. When she later told her tale she would claim she had not even breathed. She wanted to live, so she dare not give herself away. Nana Crowley just wanted to gather mushrooms for stew. She thought it would be a fine surprise for the family on a cool spring night. She now was frozen in terror in a bush. She had heard everything. She had to get to the village. They had a horrible problem. She did not know what they would do. Perhaps no one would know there either. This was quite horrible. She rose slowly and began to hobble as quickly as her old legs could move back towards the village. She hoped someone would know what to do. She certainly had no idea where to start. The gods seemed to hate Mulish today indeed..

Bow No More

The village was not a place which was ready for a new problem. Open argument was no stranger these days right in the town square. Taxes, hunger, and hard work made good people hard to live with. Fear was a poison which took root and soured even the happiest of places. Nana Crowley's news caused a near panic. Arguments were rampant. Two voices grew louder than the rest in the square. The meister Reichart and the trader Naomi did not like each other one bit. They had very different perspectives on what would happen. Neither guaranteed to be for the best for the town, but both were most likely to be best for the party presenting the solution. Reichart, former soldier he was, wanted to be the hero again and defend what was his. This was popular with some, mostly the young, hot blooded and unwise. Naomi wanted to buy off the bandits when they came. This would hurt her purse quite a bit, but she would not lose everything like some of the times the town was raided. This played well to the older villagers, though everyone knew while it would cost the trader some gold it meant less to eat for everyone else this winter. She would be fine one way or another. Some of the others may or may not starve by sacrificing some of their share of the harvest. She had reserves of gold, hidden no doubt, and the means to buy food from other cities where the bandits could not or would not raid.

...and that is if the whole crop is not withered by the Gods. The bandits will be here soon as well. Remember that!

Quiet, woman; men are speaking! Reichart, the town meister, boomed over everyone’s voice. If the bandits come this time we will fight and keep what is ours!

Do not tell me to be quiet, you fool. We have half as many people as the bandits did the last time they visited, and our people are farmers not fighters. Naomi Taul was not one to back down from the likes of him. She didn’t run the trading post since her husband’s death by being soft. She possibly had more to lose than some of the others because the post had some goods which had value beyond being food and the bandits had almost bankrupted her family more than once over the years. Besides you are the one who refused to pay taxes. So now we have no soldiers patrolling and no one aids us!

Witch, hold your tongue, or I will pull it out. Several men held Reichart. They succeeded. This showed her that he really doesn’t want to go to her and is making a spectacle for the crowd.

An aura of silence sprang up from the left of the crowd. They began to part and the little man standing there commanded everyone’s eyes with his presence. He was older than anyone else in the village. His robes were black and a stiff. A square hat sat on his little bald head. It was his only badge of office. The only other thing which adorned him was the necklace with the sign of his God. Torg, his apprentice, held his elbow and helped him forward. He looked from meister to trader and cleared his throat.

The voice was soft. Some say he spoke softly on purpose because he knew others dare not ignore him and he wanted to be sure they concentrated lest they miss his words.

We can’t fight them.

The trader smiled. She thought that meant that a part of the harvest would be sacrificed and she was safe.

The little man cleared his throat again. We can’t afford to starve. If we are to starve even a little, let it have purpose.

The woman sprang forward. We can’t fight them. You know that. What would you have us do?

Not us.

Then who, old man. None care for us. We’re alone. She folded her arms in front of herself and scowled. That she showed even that small bit of defiance was a serious sign of her stalwart position.

The priest waited so it was understood that he felt no need to reply quickly. We will hire others to fight for us then.

The meister and the trader both laughed out loud. They immediately regretted showing even that much solidarity judging by the look on their respective faces.

The big man got his words out quicker. We can’t afford better than the hands we have right here. We are strong country folk. We can protect ourselves.

The woman soon followed. This village is poor. You all have no money. It makes no difference to me which fighters bankrupt me or who they fight for. How do you intend to pay warriors, priest?

Again the old man let the silence sit for a moment. The situation bordered on chaos but he remained with his hand on the bridle. We will give part of our harvest to those who would fight for us. We will have less this year, but if the bandits know we will do this they may go elsewhere next year and forever more.

Warriors fight for gold. They don’t fight for gourds, grain, and potatoes. Have you finally lost it old man? This made the majority of the crowd look at the trader. She had crossed a line. The old man was a revered one not to be spoken to like that.

The old man waved his free hand slowly back and forth as if to banish the tension of the insult. Even the fiercest bear in the forest needs to eat. We live in a dark time, all the gold goes to the big cities. The bandits come here and steal food not gold. If times were good we would not worry because we have no gold. There are some out there who need to eat but have the honor to not steal. We will find them and offer them what they need for what we need.

I hate to agree with that crazy woman, but this will not work, your reverence. The big man clasped his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture.

The old man shook his head. It will work. I know this because I want the two most qualified people in town to go to the city at the crossroads to find our saviors. I am sure the two of you won’t let us down. The old man stared at the meister, then slowly shifted his gauge to the trader.

Both stood speechless. Neither had the courage to deny a direct request from the man who held the real power in the village. Every other person in the village loved him more than any other and trusted him. In their eyes he spoke for their god. The die was cast. The plan was made. The old man nodded and turned to head back to his hut next to the church with his apprentice in tow.

The meister stared at the trader. She shook her head at him. He spat on the ground.

Meet me here at daybreak and be ready to travel. I have no need to be away from my store for more than a day or two! She turned on her heel and headed to her home. He did the same. Both knew that this was not going to be a pleasant trip.

The two met the next day in the square as the sun crept up. Neither had slept well and both were sorry for the company they were to keep on this journey.

We may as well get moving. It is a long ride to the crossroads. Where is your horse, silly woman?

She scowled at him. Do you really think it is wise to go to the crossroads to beg for help offering food as payment riding a good horse, idiot?

The man seemed ready to retort. Then thinking for a moment his face changed. She had a point. He did not want to seem wealthy at a time when many would be asked to give to save the village. Uncomfortable as it was, it seems it would be best to walk to the cross roads. He grunted what was probably half frustration and half assent. He turned back toward his home to stable the horse. If it were not for the obvious silence of the morning he would swear he could hear her grin behind him

Lost at the Crossroads

The road to the crossroads was long and the company not pleasurable. Reichart just wanted to find some warriors and be back to the village. His desire was nothing in comparison to the trader's though. She looked more nervous than many men do before battle. He knew each day she was on the road with him was a day of lost business for her. Even worse it was one more day wasted in her quest to liquidate her inventory and find ways to hide her wealth. The big fellow grinned as he thought of her anxiety.  As far as he was concerned she deserved every last moment of it. This trip might have some bright side after all.

Naomi knew he was watching her. He could just be damned. They would find the first available ruffians and get back to the village so the real preparations could be made. She would sell everything before the snow came, then send the proceeds by messenger to the city. This whole trip was meaningless. She had things to attend to which were much more important. Any collection of fools would do to die along with Reichart fighting bandits. Her only concern was finding the appropriate rubes and getting them back to town so the old man would approve and leave her to get things done at the trading post without upsetting her customers.

There is the crossroads. He pointed at the horizon. We should be there before nightfall. It will be good to spend a night within the gates. I am sick of sleeping on the ground and desire better company.

She grunted. You mean whores and beer. You wouldn't know good accommodations if the gods dropped them from the sky and they landed on your face.

Woman, your tongue has gotten loose and sharp since your husband died!

The trader stopped. Her dagger came from in her cloak and went under his chin quicker than he could have imagined. You will not speak of my husband again, clod! He was a sainted man and for your information he put no restrictions on my tongue. If you feel the need to speak so freely I will either remove your tongue or perhaps my loose tongue will wag at your wife. She would be thankful, I am sure. Does she know about your fun when you visit the crossroads?

Reichart knew now was not the time to test her. She very well may cut him by accident she was so on edge.

I am sorry, Naomi. Let's not be rash. I am sure we can complete this little errand and get back to the village without any extra problems. My wife is worried enough with all this talk of bandits. There should be no need to weigh her mind down more with speculation of problems with her husband. Right?

She made the knife disappear as quickly as it came. She started back down the road. I suppose we could do things that way. Please remember to watch your loose tongue! She chuckled and threw her head back. Let's go, fool. We need to make it to the gate before dark. 

They went the remainder of the way in silence. The sun was just setting as they came to the gate. Two guards who had obviously seen better days leaned on either side of the gates. One may have even been asleep. They were more clerks with halberds than warriors. They served the purpose of monitoring who came and went and securing the gate at night. The real reason no one attacked the town was the private men-at-arms the merchants retained to ensure their goods were not stolen by anyone inside or outside of the gates. If the village could have those men they would have half as many bodies and twice as much skill as the bandits when the time came to fight. That was just a pipe dream though. They were hired on a cash-only basis. The village would have to pool their gold for a month to hire three or four of them for a week. They also were not very fond of being heroes. Most hired swords at the crossroads liked to be on the side which was guaranteed to win before the fight even started. Skilled didn't always mean brave.

Naomi got there a moment before Reichert. Hail, guard. We are coming from Mulish.

Whatever. Pass quickly. We have to close the gates so we can finish our watch. The first guard nudged the sleeper with the blunt end of his halberd to wake him.

The two villagers shared a look. These were definitely not the men they were looking for. It seemed even the crossroads may not be the answer. Everyone here may be too expensive or too incompetent to be their savior. Where were they going to find warriors competent enough to fight the bandits but desperate enough to accept the wages they were offering?

The tavern. Reichart sped ahead. He was eager to taste beer and pinch rumps.

Naomi grunted in disgust. He was headed to the right place though. If they were going to find people who like to fight but had no money then going somewhere that men spent too much on booze and women was a good start. Fine let's see what rooms they have available. 

The tavern was called The Angry Man. It had a sign with the silhouette of a man swinging a sword over his head. Rumor had it that the tavern was supposed to be The Conquering Hero. The goings on there with the serving girls and the bar fights led to everyone referring to it as The Angry Man from the very beginning. The name stuck and became notorious so the owner stopped fighting it. He didn't really care what they called it as long as they brought money there and he had it when they left.

It started to rain. That suited her mood. Reichart was almost to the door before she was halfway there. She pouted at his back. He needs to focus on finding warriors and less on vice. She could have done this by herself much better. The villagers assumed that because she traded and chose not to fight that she could not. They would be ill if they even suspected the truth. She probably had more blood on her hands than any ten men for hundreds of miles. That was a different time, in a different life. There was a happiness to her life now even though Tom was no longer with her. She had no desire to go back in time even if she could. Naomi also knew that even if she cared to fight she could not stop the bandits alone. It was doubtful she would find anyone here that would change the odds enough to matter either.

Reichart had already stormed through the door in search of alcohol and women. She pushed it open and shook the rain from her cloak. The room was filled with the stench of smoke, beer, meat, and sweaty men. It was enough to turn a stomach. She saw her erstwhile partner already with a mug in his hand slapping backs and chatting. His companions must be casual acquaintances because she could not picture many wanting to be his friend. There was a corner near the front wall that was vacant most probably because it was near neither the fire nor the bar. She wished she could be near both but had learned long ago it was better to be near the door in a place such as this. She went to the corner to remove her cloak and sit. Being frugal with her time she absent-mindedly signaled for a server as she sat not wanting to wait too long. She saw the girl coming from the corner of her eye as she sat.

What can I get for you, Ma..... The girl paused, which caused Naomi to look up fully.

Oh three-legged Thunderbird shit! Naomi had her knife out in a flash and in the girl's ribs. Why are you here, Cammi?

Please don't kill me. We are all here. Yes, we were looking for you, but aren't any longer and please don't kill me. Tears were forming in the statuesque girl's eyes. She wasn't stunning, but could have been called comely. The tears were probably a ruse as Naomi had seen her pick a full grown man off