Tal found himself in the middle of a milling band of more than a hundred men, all attempting to hold on to horses made frantic by the smoke, the cries of dying men, and the constant sound of arrows speeding past them.
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rear or kick, then the animals nearby would panic and try to pull away. More than one raider was suddenly yanked off his feet or dragged a dozen yards by a maddened horse.
Tal dodged under the necks of horses, killing any man he came within a sword’s length of. Six men were on the ground dead or dying before the raiders realized that an enemy was in their midst. Just as men started shouting orders, John Creed unleashed his attack.
Creed’s men raced out from behind the building where they had been hiding, and a moment later Jasquenel and his warriors attacked from the other side. The raiders still had superior numbers, but they were in turmoil, while Tal’s forces had both a purpose and a goal.
For a moment there seemed to be a balance, as the outnumbered defenders held the attackers at bay, while Tal moved among the raiders like death incarnate, killing with bloody efficiency. His opponents would see him for a moment, then he would vanish behind a rearing horse only to be seen a moment later leaping over the body of a fallen comrade.
But the enemy began to organize themselves, and soon the Orodon and mercenary ambush was repulsed. Tal shouted, “Keep attacking!” in the Orodon language, then repeated the command in the Common Tongue.
Horses were running through the smoke, between the buildings, and back out of the gate, and the conflict began to resolve itself. Tal found himself suddenly surrounded by six men, and at that moment he felt fated to die.
Then the man directly in front of him was struck by an arrow through the neck, and the one beside him went wide-eyed as he was struck from behind by John Creed’s blade. Tal spun and slashed out with all his strength, taking a man’s head completely off his shoulders, then carrying 9261.01 3/13/03 12:53 PM Page 350
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the blow through to strike the shoulder of the man next to him.
Then the dozen riders at the rear of the village attacked.
Raiders turned to see horsemen emerging from the smoke, shouting and bearing down on them, and a number of the enemy turned to run. More followed, and suddenly it was a rout.
Those raiders who could mounted horses and sped back across the clearing toward the trees, while others fled on foot. Many were slain by the archers who had stayed up on the wall despite the dangerous proximity of the burning gate and the choking smoke.
Tal shouted, “Hold!’’
The Orodon and mercenary riders reined in, and Tal cried, “We don’t want to get scattered out there in the dark!
We could lose everything we’ve won.’’
The Orodon began to cheer. Then people started to deal with the fires, fetching water from the village well and attacking smaller fires with blankets or kicking earth onto them.
For a full minute the people celebrated with backslap-ping, congratulations, and a great sense of triumph, although soon chance-fallen comrades would be discovered in other parts of the village, or beneath the wall. Tal was about to tell the men to search for wounded and the dead who might be out of sight when a shout came from the wall above. “They’ve stopped!’’
Tal hurried to the gate, which was now a smoking pile of embers on either side of a gap in the wall, and looked into the distance. The fire behind him had blinded him to the night, so it took a full minute for his vision to adjust so that he could properly see what was taking place across the clearing.
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Raven was rallying his forces!
Tal could not afford to hesitate. “Everyone fights!” he shouted. “They’re coming back.” To the few remaining bowmen, he shouted, “Up on the walls! Pick your targets carefully.” Placing his left hand on Jasquenel’s shoulder, he said, “Tell the older children to get the little ones out into the woods now, but the women stay and fight if they’re able.’’
Creed said, “Your eyes are better than mine. All I see is some movement.”
The fire behind them illuminated half the distance between the gate and the edge of the clearing, and most of the men near Tal could see only a confused blur. “They’re coming,” he observed. “Most are on foot, but I think he’s got a dozen horse moving out there somewhere.” Then he yelled, “We stand here!’’
“Well, I always prefer a stand-up fight to a running battle or a siege,” Creed said. Lowering his voice, he asked,
“How many?’’
“More than us,” Tal replied.
“Well, wouldn’t be the first time.’’
Tal hurried to what was left of the gate, blinking away tears from the acrid smoke, and stared into the gloom once more.
As shapes began to loom up out of the darkness, Tal saw that Raven had bullied his men back into some semblance of order. They advanced in three lines, about twenty men abreast, with the first rank holding shields in front of them.
The second rank had every pole arm weapon they possessed—halberds to pull riders from horses, spears; even two lances had been pressed into service. The third line was composed of archers.
To the men on the wall, Tal shouted: “Ignore the men in front. Kill their archers if you can!’’
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Creed squinted. “He’s ready for the cavalry to charge.’’
Tal nodded. “Too bad we can’t oblige him. He doesn’t know our cavalry consisted of a dozen men who are now standing here.’’
Two dozen children, the oldest carrying the very youngest, ran past, darting to the left at the gate, hugging the wall, and heading south into the woods.
The women came out, many bearing weapons which had once belonged to Raven’s men. Tal directed them into the buildings on the right and left, telling them to fall on the attackers from behind once the archers came into the stockade.
Tal moved his forces back as close to the burning catapults as they could go. The flames had diminished, but there was still enough heat to discourage anyone from approaching any closer. They would be silhouettes against the flames, while Raven’s men would be revealed by the light once they entered the compound.
As the attackers advanced to the first bridge, those in the first rank started racing across in pairs, holding their shields high to protect themselves from archers. The expected fusillade of arrows didn’t materialize as those on the walls waited for Raven’s archers to come into range.
“Get ready!” Tal shouted, and suddenly the first line of raiders charged. “Hold your ground!’’
Bellowing their war cries, the twenty men in the first rank ran into the compound, and battle was joined. Tal wished he had spent more time practicing against an opponent with a shield when he had trained in Salador, for while he could quickly best most swordsmen on the dueling floor of the Masters’ Court, a man with a shield was a rather more difficult proposition.
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screams of pain nearby, and guessed that Raven’s archers were shooting at the enemy on the ground, ignoring the half a dozen bowmen who were firing at them. He hoped his own archers could diminish the number out there quickly.
Tal slashed and thrust as frantically as he had ever done in his life, trying to protect those on either side of him as well as to defend himself. Raiders fell, only to be replaced by
other raiders.
Time seemed to slow as Tal laid about him, striking blows and blocking them with almost no thought, letting his swordsman’s instincts take over. Part of his mind tried to apprehend the chaos around him, but he just didn’t seem able to make sense of what was happening.
A big mercenary with a scar shouted in rage and leapt at him, bashing him in the face with his shield. Tal reeled backward and fell, feeling sudden pain in his back. He rolled to his right as he realized he had fallen upon a smol-dering hunk of wood, still red-hot, and had been burned on his left shoulder blade. He flipped up onto his feet, his sword at the ready, and saw the scar-faced mercenary lying on his stomach, John Creed pulling his sword from the man’s side. “John!” shouted Tal, and the mercenary ducked and turned just in time to avoid another raider’s blade.
Tal pushed forward between Creed and an Orodon warrior and killed the man who had almost taken Creed by surprise.
Then he was once more assailed by the sounds of battle—metal clanging, grunts of exertion, cries of pain and frustration, curses and inarticulate shouts of anger.
The air was thick with the reek of blood, feces, urine, smoke, and sweat.
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enemy archers as they entered the compound. The archers were forced to drop their bows and draw their swords, and in that moment the women seized the advantage. Ignoring their lack in weapons skill, they hurled themselves at the archers, swarming down a half dozen of them who died from the thrusts of daggers, kitchen knives, pokers, or whatever else came to hand. One woman dispatched a raider with a bone knitting needle driven into his eye. She clawed his belt-knife from his fingers and turned to leap upon another raider.
The balance turned. Tal stepped back and for a moment saw everything as if it were a still painting and he were studying it in detail. Four Orodon bowmen still survived, and they were firing down from the battlements, taking care to pick off raiders who were at the edges of the conflict. The core of Raven’s men wavered, held at bay by Tal’s line, while those behind were being swarmed by the women. The villagers had the advantage in numbers for the first time. Behind all of this, Tal saw something that made his eyes widen. Two of the boys sent with the younger children into the woods had returned, calmly picked up bows dropped by the archers, and were now shooting arrows into the backs of the men engaged in grap-pling with the women.
Tal sensed that this was the moment he had been waiting for. “Charge them!” he shouted, and leapt into the fray.
He killed two men with a side-to-side attack, and suddenly the raiders were attempting to flee. “Kill them all!” he shouted, as much to frighten the invaders as to release all the anger harbored against these men since the death of his own people.
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enemy. The raider stared in disbelief for an instant as blood fountained from his severed forearm, then shock and pain struck him and he fell to his knees, clutching his wounded arm. Tal cut him across the base of his neck with a quick flick of his blade, and the man collapsed like a wet rag doll, all the life drained out of him in a moment.
Tal kicked hard against the back of the leg of a man who turned away from him, causing him to stumble, throwing him off-balance, and forcing him to drop his shield, which allowed an Orodon warrior an opening in which to kill him.
For a moment, Tal was almost overwhelmed by three raiders who all turned to confront him at once so that he had to furiously parry three blows in blinding succession; but then the man on his left was struck from behind, the man on his right took an arrow in the shoulder, and once he faced the man in the center, Tal quickly dispatched him.
Dodging through the melee, he struck at two more men, missing one and turning himself around for an instant. He started to move to his left, for he had overbal-anced and had an enemy behind him.
Detecting movement out of the corner of his left eye, he turned. Something exploded in his face, and the world turned a brilliant flash of yellow, then red. Then everything went dark.
__
Tal came back to consciousness as water was poured over his face. He blinked and found John Creed kneeling over him, a ladle of water in his hand. The sounds of battle were absent. There was shouting and some other noise, but no clash of arms, screams, or swearing.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up. His head swam from the exertion.
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“Easy,” said Creed as an Orodon woman helped Tal to sit up. “You got knocked out by the backswing of a sword.
The bloke who brained you was rearing back to hit me.
Caught you with the flat, else you’d be sitting up in Lims-Kragma’s hall.’’
At mention of the ill-fated deity, the Orodon woman said a word of prayer to appease the dark goddess.
“How long was I out?’’
“Only a few minutes,” said Creed, helping Tal to his feet. “Steady.”
Tal nodded and put his hand to his forehead. He could feel the bump rising, and the tenderness told him he was indeed lucky to be alive. “I’d rather be lucky than good,” he said, thinking of Pasko for the first time in months. He glanced around, “It’s over?’’
“This time they broke for real. Most of the ones here threw down their weapons and begged for quarter. The rest broke outside the gate and were shot down by archers.
A few made it to the trees and got away.’’
“Raven?”
“He’s riding south, I suspect, as fast as his horse can carry him.’’
Tal looked around, and details began to resolve themselves. A dozen enemies were on their knees, their hands tied behind their backs. The raiders’ dead were being carried to a place near the gate and stacked like cordwood.
Several women were in tears, having found their husbands dead, and more than one man wept for a dead wife.
Jasquenel approached reverently. “You have saved my people, Talon of the Silver Hawk.’’
He spoke the Orodon language, so that John Creed didn’t understand it, but he could sense the gratitude in the man’s voice.
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“I helped to avenge my people,” Tal answered in the Orosini language. Then in the Common Tongue, he said,
“I need a horse.’’
“It will be done,” said Jasquenel. He shouted to a boy to fetch Tal a mount.
“What are you doing?” asked Creed.
“Going after Raven,” said Tal.
“You’ve been addled by that blow to the head. It’s night, he’ll have half an hour’s start on you by the time you get out of here, and he’s probably got some men riding with him.’’
Tal nodded. “I know, but I can track him.’’
“Track him? At night in these mountains?”
Jasquenel looked at Creed. “If he says he can track him, he can.’’
“Should I go with you?” John Creed asked.
“No. You’ll only slow me down.” Tal placed put his hand on Creed’s shoulder. “Thank you for everything, John. I would not have been able to help these people without your guidance.”
“You’re welcome, Tal. You have the makings of a fair captain. If you decide you’d like to run a company again, let me know. I’ll always be willing to serve with a man who’s not afraid to be in the van.’’
“My mercenary days are over. This was a one-time thing. In the baggage wagon you’ll find a small bag of g
old coins. Divide it among the men as you see fit and keep some for yourself. Play captain long enough to get the lads back to Latagore, all right?’’
“I can do that.” Creed motioned to the dozen prisoners. “What do we do with them?’’
“What do you normally do when opposing mercenaries surrender?”
“If it’s up to us, we cut them lose with a parole they won’t fight against us, but usually it’s up to our employers.”
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Tal turned to Jasquenel. “These are the men who slew my people. They would have burned your homes and murdered your women and children without mercy. You decide.’’
Jasquenel didn’t hesitate. He simply looked at the warriors who guarded the prisoners and said, “Kill them.’’
Before the prisoners could attempt to stand, each man had his head yanked back and his throat cut.
Jasquenel looked at Creed and Tal, and declared, “It is just. They get mercy as they gave it.’’
Creed looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. “Not a lot of sentiment for Raven’s crew out there, but some of the boys won’t like it. We’d best be for the south come first light.’’
The horse arrived, and Tal said, “I need a full waterskin.”
A woman ran to her hut and returned a moment later with a full skin. She also held up a bundle. “Food, for the chase.’’
Tal nodded. He gathered up his weapons—his sword and bow—and retrieved a full quiver of arrows. He waved, then put his heels to his horse’s flanks and headed out of the gate and into the night.
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TWENTY-ONE
HUNT
Tal halted.
He had pushed his horse through the night and let the animal have a short break. Since leaving the village of Queala he had dismounted three times to ensure that he wasn’t losing Raven’s trail.
As he had suspected, Raven chose speed over stealth and kept to the main trail south, the most direct route to the city of Coastal Watch. Tal looked to the east, where the rapidly approaching sun had turned the sky steel grey, and knew that dawn was less than minutes away. He guessed that Raven would make camp and set up a sentry and rest before moving on, probably at midday. At least that’s what Tal would do if he thought no one was following him.
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