castlerock (part 3)

castlerock (part 3)

Sherborn dropped himself to one knee at the edge of one of the colossus’ great roads.  A chill gripped him despite the warm evening as he placed his right palm onto the road.  Roads in Central Park were dangerous places for Tribes people to be, even at night.  Colossus tended to stay on these giant paths that wound themselves all around the park.  The rest of the forty men he had brought with him on the journey, were crouching, unseen in the brush behind him.  He held his hand on the road for a moment longer then stood up.  The captain made a silent signal with his hand and three soldiers jumped into view dragging one end of the enormous rope.  They stopped right next to him breathing heavily, not from the effort of carrying the rope, but in fear.  Crossing a road was sketchy work and was usually avoided at all costs.  Sherborn turned his head to the men, nodded, inhaled sharply and then took off alone across the expanse of the path.  The three men each took a quick breath of their own and followed their leader across the road. 

          On the other side of the road the three men finished tying off the rope to a root of one of the great Oaks that lined the path.  The captain double checked the work of the crew then gave the nod of approval.  The three made it back across the road in a blink and were out of site within seconds.  Sherborn wasn’t able to make such a mad dash across like his men had.  He had to inspect the entire line of rope which meant a brisk walk across the road instead of a run.  He gripped the rope in his left hand, took another breath, and stepped out.  Three steps into his inspection, Sherborn stopped and cocked his ear towards a sound coming from down the path.  Thundering footsteps were coming closer as he stood and listened.  He glanced to his men who he couldn’t see, but knew they were there.  He gave the signal to get ready and ran the rest of the way across the road.  They weren’t expecting a colossus this early, but if they didn’t attack now, their cover could be blown and the last month would have been for nothing.  The captain skidded to halt on the other side of the path as the mighty Jo’Gar came into view.  He hid himself in the grass and waited as the colossus drew near. 

          Behind a tree, just opposite the one that had the other end of the rope, was a team of ten soldiers waiting for the signal to pull and tie the other end of the rope.  The other soldiers were spread out along the path, just behind the bush line.  One of the men had climbed to the top another tree to have a better view of the path and to give the pull signal to the rope team.  Sherborn waited, he felt alone and he was more scared then he had ever been.  The idea for the ambush had come to him long ago when the latest attack had killed most of the women’s gathering party.  Over the last months he had refined it to be as simple and successful as possible.  The entire race of colossus towered over the tribesmen by at least one hundred times, but even giants could fall.  On the ground, surprised and hopefully hurt enough to be taken.  They had weapons.  Mostly just wooden spears and bows and a few swords that had been fashioned from things the colossus left behind.  Hopefully it would be enough.  The Jo’Gar was near now and Sherborn held his breath waiting for the signal. 

          The look of surprise on the Jo’Gar’s face was something that Sherborn would never forget about the attack.  For the first time, he noticed that their faces resembled the tribes people’s very closely.  He saw the fear in its eyes as its head rushed down to meet the path.  The captain felt a twinge in his heart as he leapt from his hiding place towards the still falling colossus.  The twinge, of whatever it was, faded as the anger rushed back to him and he let out a tribesman war cry.  He leapt into the road, still screaming his ferocious battle song.  To his left, and his right, the other soldiers ran full speed, screaming with their weapons raised above their heads.  Finally, the body of the dreaded Jo’Gar crashed to the Earth causing Sherborn to stumble from the shaking of the ground.  Looking ahead at the face of the fallen Colossus, Sherborn could now see the blank look in the still open eyes of the being.  The Colossus was already dead.  

It was the empty eyes of the enemy that caused the Captain to stop short of the falling body.  He raised his hand signaling his men to cease their charge.  They were confused at his actions, but their training kicked in and they did as he bade.  Sherborn stared into the dead eyes of the great beast before him and saw, for the first time, it wasn’t a beast at all.  It was a face of a villager, twisted now from the trauma of the impact into the path.  He couldn’t help but see the similarities between the face of the Colossus and his own.  Nobody had ever really taken to time to look at one of these dreadful destroyers with out fear or panic and had never drawn the conclusion that they may actually be alike.  For a moment longer Sherborn stared into the eyes of the person he had killed.  All of the anger and the fear he had harbored most of his life was swept away in that moment that he realized what had happened to his people. 

The Colossus wasn’t their enemy.  Over the years they had taken much from the villages.  In the last six months alone the entire East River Tribe had fled the lands of their ancestors because of these beings.  Many Tribesmen had been trampled into submission by these careless people.  Sherborn was saddened by the fact that all this time they had thought that the Colossus had willfully destroyed their lands and taken their livelihoods because of ill will, but that wasn’t the case.  The truth was worse then that.   They had been forgotten by the Colossus, forgotten by the world.  The gravity of Sherborn’s realization fell heavy on his shoulders.  Truly his people were doomed, forgotten by the land in which they inhabited.  The world had moved on and left them behind, all but lost in a world that they no longer belonged. 

With a last look into the eyes of the dead giant, the Captain dropped his spear and began to walk away.  The other soldiers stood still, some watching their Captain walk away, some still staring at the dead Jo’Gar in front of them.  A few seemed to realize the situation that they now found themselves in and the fear and anger that once filled their hearts was replaced with foreboding and sadness.  These few soldiers also dropping their weapons, turned to follow their leader back to their village to the comfort of their homes.  Others just stood dumbfounded, confused at their brothers actions.  They still felt the joy of victory and the conclusion of the revenge they had trained for.  Eventually, they all followed their Captain back to the village. 

Sherborn never fought against the Colossus again.  He lived alone in sadness until his death many years later.  He loved his people and although it was no fault of his own, he felt that he was responsible for their downfall.  Sherborn carried this weight of sadness as did every other person of the Castlerock and East River tribes.  Their day was done and slowly they dwindled and eventually disappeared.

The End