Demontech: Gulf Run

by David Sherman

  Silent nodded agreement with both. “We still would have beaten them, but at a much higher cost.” He looked back into the trees. “But I don’t think any more are following us now. What do you think, Wolf?”

  Wolf looked up from the bone he was worrying and cocked his head at the steppe giant as though considering his answer.

  “Ulgh!” he finally said with a vigorous shake of his head and shoulders.

  “Do you want to backtrack tonight and make sure?” Silent asked.

  Wolf growled and lowered his head and shoulders as though preparing to pounce.

  “Good. We go in an hour.”

  “It’s too dangerous to go back at night.” Alyline spoke for the first time. “A patrol couldn’t go far enough and have time to get back before we leave in the morning. Then the men would be tired and have to take up wagon space to sleep.”

  Silent chuckled, a bass rumble deep in his throat. “Just me and Wolf, we can do it and be back in time.”

  “If no one is behind us,” Zweepee interjected, “we can stay here for a day or two. Our wounded need time to rest and heal. And we can use the time to gather more food. We can stop for a day or two if nobody’s following, can’t we, Spinner?”

  “Maybe we can,” Spinner replied in a voice that sounded like he didn’t think they could.

  Not long after that they finished their stew, wiping the bowls clean with bread old enough that it was turning stale and brittle.

  Alyline and Zweepee, trailed by Doli, set out to check the encampment. Maid Primrose looked longingly after them before she turned to help Maid Marigold bank the fire and give the dishes a better cleaning. Silent stretched out for a short nap before he and Wolf left to check the back trail. Fletcher went to check on the horses.

  Spinner stood. “Let’s check the lines,” he said to Haft.

  Haft led the way because he’d placed the sentries and knew where they were.

  It was night under the trees by the time they reached the first post. The four soldiers, Zobran Royal lancers, were nestled in a fall of tree trunks. If Haft hadn’t remembered where he placed them, he and Spinner would have gone by without seeing the quartet. A stout tree had been felled by a lightning strike and dropped two lesser trees with it, the three forming a strong barrier the Zobrans were able to hide behind. Bushes behind them hid their silhouettes as they looked over the logs.

  “Lord Haft, Lord Spinner,” the Zobrans murmured greetings after signs and countersigns were exchanged.

  “Don’t call me ’Lord,’ ” Spinner muttered.

  “Guma, Lyft, Ealu, Eaomod,” Haft greeted them by name. “Hear anything out there?”

  “Only the birds bedding down for the night,” Guma replied.

  “See anything?”

  “Nothing moves.”

  Haft looked into the tree-night. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at a shadow that could be the head and shoulders of a lurking man.

  Guma looked along Haft’s arm to see what he meant. “That’s a boysenberry bush,” he murmured. “I knew it could be mistaken for a man when I watched night come.”

  “You memorized.”

  “Of course, Lord Haft. We all did. You taught us well.”

  “He’s not a lord either,” Spinner muttered.

  Haft’s grin went unseen in the dark and he ignored Spinner. He squeezed Guma’s shoulder. “You learned well.”

  That was another of the lessons Lord Gunny had brought from—from wherever. Sentries on night watch should carefully examine their fronts as dusk faded to dark and memorize every shape and shadow as they changed, so when they looked out in the night they would know if they saw a shadow that hadn’t been there in the light—and so they wouldn’t mistake something that had been there as a threat.

  They sat and watched and listened with the Zobrans for several more minutes. Nothing moved before their eyes. All they heard was the whishing of night fliers above, the buzzing of flying insects close by their ears, and the lightly skittering steps of small night browsers.

  “Two up and two down,” Spinner reminded them before they left; two men to watch while two slept. They visited the other posts, each in turn. Half of the men on watch were Zobran soldiers, the other half trained men from Eikby. All the watchers ignored Spinner’s muttered objections to being called “lord.”

  When they got back to the camp and checked the hospital pavilion, they found all the wounded sleeping, some restlessly, most quietly. Nightbird, the healing witch from Bostia who joined them somewhere in southeastern Skragland or northeastern Zobra—nobody had been sure where they were at the time—sat watching quietly over them.

  “Two are still in danger,” Nightbird said softly. “The others mostly need time and rest.”

  “Time,” Spinner repeated. Time was the one thing he thought they didn’t have. Even if the Jokapcul weren’t closely pursuing them, he felt an urgent need to get the refugees to Dartmutt as quickly as possible.

  “Time,” Nightbird confirmed. “Even a day or two will make a huge difference. If we move them too soon, some who aren’t in danger now will be in danger then. The two who are now in danger could die if they are moved too soon.”

  “Can the healing demons heal them faster?”

  Nightbird stiffened in the darkness; healing witches generally didn’t trust healing magicians and their demons. They knew what their unguents and poultices could do. One could never predict with certainty what a demon might decide to do.

  “I doubt it,” she said with less heat than she felt. “They’ve already worked their magic. Now it is time the wounded need.”

  “We have to wait until Silent returns and gives his report,” Haft said, stopping Spinner from saying anything else for the moment.

  After a few more neutral remarks, they wandered through the camp.

  All the fires were out or safely banked. Except for some of the older children and a few adults, everyone not on watch was asleep.

  At their own fire they found Fletcher and Zweepee sitting close, Zweepee as usual tucked comfortably under her husband’s protective arm. Alyline gave them a curious look. Maid Marigold seemed to glow in the fire’s dim light when she saw Haft. There was no sign of Doli or Maid Primrose. Zweepee disengaged herself from Fletcher to pour cups of water for them.

  “All is secure in the camp,” Fletcher said.

  “We know; we saw,” Spinner said as he took a seat on a log facing the fire. He accepted the cup with thanks.

  “The sentries are alert,” Haft said. He grinned at Maid Marigold, who took a cup from Zweepee and handed it to him. He sat cross-legged on the ground, she lowered herself and leaned against him. “All was quiet out there,” he finished, and looped an arm around Maid Marigold to give her an affectionate squeeze.

  “The healers all say we need to stay here for a day or two, to give the wounded a chance to mend,” Alyline said.

  “I’m not sure we can,” Spinner told her.

  “If no one’s following we can,” Fletcher said. “If the Jokapcul are closing on us, we’re better off preparing defenses than trying to outrun them.”

  “We’ll see what Silent says,” Spinner said weakly. He thought this was an argument he was going to lose.

  “We have to stop,” Alyline insisted.

  “We can afford to stop,” Fletcher said with lesser insistence.

  Zweepee said nothing. She lay her fingers along Fletcher’s cheek and looked down at him. He returned her look, then rose.

  “We’ll see what Silent says in the morning,” Fletcher said, then murmured good-nights as he and his wife headed for their small tent.

  Haft had nothing to contribute to the discussion. He and Maid Marigold were cuddling perhaps more intimately than they should in front of the others.

  Alyline looked at them and cleared her throat. “I’m for sleep,” she said. “Perhaps we all should sleep now.” She got to her feet and went to the small shelter she’d erected for herself.

  Spinner ached to go wi
th her but didn’t move. He knew she’d rebuff him. He already felt everyone was against him on the matter of movement, and he didn’t want to face a more personal rejection. He looked at Haft and Maid Marigold, who were now kissing passionately, and squeezed his eyes closed. Without a word, he rose and headed for his bedroll—he hadn’t erected a shelter for himself.

  A short while later Maid Marigold broke away from Haft and pushed a lock of hair back into place. “Not here, Haft,” she murmured. “Let’s go to our tent.”

  It was late morning by the time Silent and Wolf returned to the camp, which was already broken. Horses and oxen were hitched to wagons and dogs to carts. Riding horses were saddled, children, oldsters, the lame, and the worst wounded bided their time on wagons—the children restlessly. All was ready to go.

  The giant steppe nomad went straight to where the command group’s cookfire had burned the night before, Wolf padding at his heels. Once at the charred circle, he swiftly lay wood for a fire, then squatted and struck a spark to tinder. Flames quickly began to lick the twigs, then spread to the larger pieces of wood. Only when he was satisfied the fire was starting did he acknowledge Spinner and the others.

  Spinner asked again, “What did you find?”

  Silent didn’t have to look very far up from his squat to look into Spinner’s eyes. “I’m hungry, where’s food?” he asked.

  Spinner gaped at him. “You’ve been gone on a reconnaissance since last night’s dusk and all you can say is ’where’s food?’ ”

  “And I haven’t eaten since before then.” He looked at Wolf, who lay contentedly at his side. “He ate, but he wouldn’t share. He caught small rodents and chomped them down whole. But would he bring me a fawn? No! ”

  “Ulgh!” Wolf protested. There’d been no chance to hunt for a fawn; they were on a reconnaissance!

  Silent laughed and briskly ruffled Wolf’s neck and shoulders. “I’m just kidding, friend. I wasn’t hungry enough for raw rodents, and we didn’t have time to make a fire.”

  “Here’s food.” Doli approached with a loaf of not-too-stale bread. Maid Primrose carried a pot of leftover stew, which she set on the fire to warm up.

  “My thanks, ladies.” Silent took the bread and bit off a huge piece, which he quickly chewed and swallowed. He settled back and sat cross-legged on the ground. “Sit,” he said to Spinner, with a gesture that included Haft, Fletcher, and Alyline. They sat on the log they’d used for a bench the night before. Zweepee squeezed in next to her husband, Doli shooed the two Eikby maids away, then knelt next to Spinner, facing the giant nomad. She either didn’t see Maid Marigold and Maid Primrose come to kneel behind her or she ignored them. No one had called for Veduci, but he mirrored Silent at the opposite end of the log.

  “We went fast,” Silent began, keeping an eye on the stew pot, “all the way to where we could see into the valley that was our rally point after the Jokaps attacked Eikby. I went straight, paralleling the road. Wolf ranged the flanks. We saw no one. When I investigated the road for sign, all I could find was our own tracks and those of the Jokap troop that caught up with you yesterday. The tracks of the advance party that Haft’s rear point ambushed were covered by the lancer troop’s, but I saw where the ambush was—it was impossible to miss. The bodies were still there. It looked like when the survivors of your fight got back to them, they killed the wounded who weren’t able to make it back on their own.” He spat to the side in disgust at people who would kill their own wounded.

  “No one is following us, at least not now.” He looked away from the stew pot to the wagons. “Our wounded need rest. We can stay here for two days, maybe longer, and give them the rest they need to begin healing.”

  “Doli,” Alyline snapped, “go to the healers, get the pavilion set back up for the wounded. You two,” she added to Maid Marigold and Maid Primrose, “help her.”

  Doli shot her a resentful look, but got up to do as the Golden Girl said.

  “Yes, ma’am!” the other two replied as they jumped to their feet and scurried to do her bidding. “Immediately, ma’am!” They had long been servants, and reacted automatically to the Golden Girl’s commanding voice.

  “But—” Spinner cut off his protest when Haft gripped his shoulder.

  Zweepee saw the stew was now simmering and ladled it into a bowl that she handed to Silent. He gratefully took it and began spooning the savory stew into his mouth. Wolf looked up as though to say, What about me? Silent ignored him.

  “I’ll get men started on defensive works,” Fletcher said, rising.

  “I’ll put out sentries,” Haft said, and went to do so.

  Around a mouthful of stew and bread, Silent said, “After I eat I’ll get patrols out to our rear and flanks. They won’t catch us by surprise.”

  “But—” Spinner started to object.

  Alyline gave him a level look. “We have to do this, Spinner,” was all she said before she got up and left.

  Spinner turned to Zweepee, his last remaining hope for support. But before he could say anything, she said, “I’ll see to the siting of new latrines. And I’ll talk to Jatke about getting hunters out to find game for us.”

  Veduci, who had said nothing during the meeting, barely hid a smile as he left to find his own people. It was obvious to him the leadership here wasn’t as firm as it might be. He needed to think about that; there could be advantage for him.

  Silent had another bowl of stew, but when he was finished he left something in the bottom of the bowl for Wolf to lap up.

  The defensive works weren’t elaborate, little more than barricades to protect small teams of archers from opposing missiles, and limited fencing to channel attackers into better killing zones. Xundoe took the hodekin to the front of the defensive works to dig small pits to trip charging horses. He didn’t set any Phoenix Egg traps, as he had during the final battle at Eikby; he doubted he’d be able to safely retrieve any unused eggs, and they were too precious to leave behind. He considered using the mezzullas to make a storm south of the encampment, but knew he didn’t have the training to make a mezzulla do exactly what he wanted—it could just as well dump a storm on them and leave the weather clear for the Jokapcul.

  Game was plentiful enough as the animals in the vicinity of Eikby moved north, away from the Jokapcul. But they were wary, and the hunters had trouble bringing any down. Still, they brought in more deer, boar, elk, and rabbits each day than was needed to feed the caravan. The meat was supplemented by fruits, tubers, mushrooms, and other forest edibles gathered by foraging women and children. Each day they spent giving the wounded time to heal, the refugees’ store of food grew.

  Reconnaissance patrols ranged far enough to see the ruins of Eikby in the distance, but they never saw sign of Jokapcul following them. They did see the Jokapcul constructing a base just outside Eikby’s ruins, though.

  The healers were pleased with the progress of the wounded. The land trow and aralez were tremendous aids in mending wounds. After two days, only half of the wounded were still unable to resume the march to Dartmutt under their own power—and all were out of danger.

  Zweepee, backed by Jatke, wanted to stay another day or two in order to gather more food. Nightbird and the other healers—magicians and witches both—wanted to give the wounded more time to heal before stressing their healing injuries by moving them. But Haft and Silent threw their weight to Spinner in his insistence that even if the Jokapcul weren’t coming directly at them from the south, the enemy was still on the move and they should move on as well. Alyline reluctantly conceded that Spinner, for once, was right.

  They broke camp on the morning of the third day and resumed their slow progress north. To direct the scouts who were still out after they returned, Haft stayed behind with a rear guard.

  The rest, brief as it was, was good for more than just the wounded. The people of Eikby had been in a state of high tension and activity since the arrival of Spinner and Haft and their company several weeks earlier: first with the Rockhold
bandits who had attacked the town and had to be dealt with, then while preparing for another bandit attack, and finally the attack by the Jokapcul, which ended up destroying the town and imprisoning half its surviving population before the two Frangerian Marines and their fighting men rescued them and defeated the remaining Jokapcul. They then fled northward before more Jokapcul could arrive.

  The two days in the encampment was the first respite the townspeople had had in all that time. Short as the rest was, it rejuvenated them and raised their morale—especially when it sunk in that they’d once more defeated the supposedly invincible Jokapcul. They started thinking of the Jokapcul as highly vincible.

  Tramping or riding merrily along, on the fourth day after the rest, the van of the caravan topped a last rise and looked over the plain that led to the walled city of Dartmutt. They saw more smoke rising from the city environs and the harbor than could be accounted for by hearth fires alone.

  II

  FALLING WALLS

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  The ground sloped down to a broad plain that wrapped around the city of Dartmutt, which itself fronted the harbor. For almost a mile around the walls of Dartmutt, the plain was colorful chaos. Thousands upon thousands of people talked and cried and shouted in a score or more languages and dialects, and their garb was as varied as their tongues. The extravagance of smoke plumes that rose above the city was from the cookfires that lay at the center of many of the clusters of refugees. There was no order; each newly arriving group parked its wagons or pitched its tents wherever it could find space, and sometimes where it couldn’t. Frequent fights broke out when one group decided a neighbor intruded on its space; blood was sometimes drawn or bones fractured, not infrequently a broken body was removed for burial.

  The city itself was a square with thirty-foot-high stone walls nearly half a mile on a side. The tops of the walls had crenellations, barely seen from where the mountain road opened to the plain, and were cantilevered so they jutted out a man’s length beyond the curtain wall. Towers situated at the corners of the walls and between the corners provided archers with angles to shoot at any attackers who attempted to gather under the overhang. Within the walls, only the towers of the central keep were higher than the curtain walls. In the past, before they turned to trade, raiders from the Low Desert north of Dartmutt had often attacked the city, and the city had built its defenses to hold them off. There was no moat, but the massive gates looked strong enough to withstand any but the mightiest siege engines.