Warhorn

by J Glenn Bauer

  Behind him, hooves thundered as Rudax’s fifty horsemen burst from the valley. Berenger spat a mouthful of dust onto the ground. His remaining riders walked their winded mounts back to the shield wall without a word to Berenger. He was too busy marvelling at yet another surprise. He walked his stallion towards a mound in the trampled grass where one of the enemy’s mounts lay dead. There was a pool of bloodstained ground where its rider should have lain, except there was no body. Berenger looked at the deep gash across the neck of the horse. Could the enemy have had time in the midst of a life and death battle to dispatch a wounded horse? He looked back and across the entire field and could not see a single fallen enemy warrior. A chill ran down his spine. What kind of enemy was this?

  Berenger had returned to the wagons by the time Rudax returned from the field. He sat on a cask and leaned back against one of the wagon’s giant wheels, trying to massage the pain out of his hip.

  “Commander. We gave chase, but our mounts were winded and the enemy dispersed. Even so two of our riders have disappeared. I fear the enemy has taken them.”

  “You searched for them?” Rudax did not deign to answer and for once Berenger did not mind. Once night falls, a warrior has no business hunting lost brothers with an enemy such as these about.

  “They slew the oxen of course. Tomorrow we pack spare horses with the most valuable of the cargo and burn the rest. Your fifty are to remain with the column.”

  “As you wish.”

  The man stalked into the new evening, leaving Berenger alone while Josa prowled the nearby rocks and brush cover. Berenger had forgotten all about the woman until he had returned to the shield wall. Upon inspection she was no longer under the wagon or anywhere else in sight. It was possible the enemy riders had come upon her and taken her.

  The following dawn Berenger rose stiffly from the floor of the wagon. Few men were up although there should have been some on watch. He clambered from the wagon bed and nearly went sprawling as he tramped on a soft object that rolled from under his foot. Regaining his balance, he saw that he had stood on the body of the woman. Josa must have found her hiding in the hills. Her tunic was wrapped tight about her, but her body still shivered with cold. Josa had bound her to a wagon wheel to keep her from trying to escape again. On an impulse, Berenger walked over to the woman and nudged her in the back with his foot. “Girl, roll over and show me your wrists.”

  She just huddled tighter in on herself. Exasperated, Berenger drew a short knife from a sheath at his waist and straddled the girl. She gasped and moaned.

  “Please release me, please. I have friends who will pay you handsomely, please ... Berenger.”

  Berenger’s eyes narrowed. It was unusual to have such an articulate woman as a prisoner. “Oh yes. Who would these friends of yours be then girl?”

  “My name is Ilimic. My friends are merchants from Baria. They will reward you for releasing me to them.”

  Berenger was intrigued. Ransoms such as she spoke of were not uncommon, especially when the hostage was an important person, but a mere girl with no ties to a leading family? Berenger looked carefully at the girl. “We will see. In the meantime, get the fire lit and my breakfast ready. This morning try not to spit in the porridge.”

  Ilimic blushed and nodded as Berenger split the cords binding her wrists and ankles. She scampered to relight the fire even as Berenger dragged his member free and urinated against the wagon wheel.

  The walled city of Sagunt, perched on its hilltop, appeared in the distance before midday. They had moved fast once the packhorses had been loaded and secured. The warriors had muttered angrily about burning the wagons and goods they could not carry. Sullen, they moved out, their pride as warriors had dealt a blow by the skirmish of the previous evening. The only person in jovial spirits was Josa. He had returned to the wagons with the recaptured girl long after Berenger had lain down to sleep, having given up on a cooked meal.

  Berenger looked at his spirited leading man from the corner of his eye and out of pure mischievousness decided to dent the man’s happiness a little.

  “I have been thinking about this girl.” Josa snapped his head around. Berenger fought to hide his smirk from showing. Taking a breath to compose himself, he sighed dramatically. “I know we agreed to your suggestion, but as it turns out she comes from a wealthy family.”

  Josa’s face turned purple, seeing his plan come apart. Berenger sighed again, enjoying himself immensely. He really should not be taunting the man so, but with Sagunt in sight, he felt he owed himself a little respite.

  “Thing is...” He went on, “You know what it costs me to run these missions and yes, I do get funds from the lizards on the council, but. well we just saw a lot of plunder lost.”

  Josa glared back at the woman staggering determinedly along behind his horse. He had used the wagon traces to fashion a collar about her throat and had her tethered to his belt. “She lies! I know this.”

  Berenger hawked and spat and his tone turned cold. “Ah! Tell me.”

  Josa blanched. “Turro’s men told me they took her on the road to some sheep-shagging village. They killed the men with her. Said there were eight of them. Those were her family and they were farmers. Piss poor.”

  “Lies!” The woman spat.

  Berenger ignored her. “You believe that even less than I. I have seen her hands and she is no farmer’s daughter.” Berenger laughed.

  Josa was jerked backward on his mount. The girl had turned crimson and digging her heels into and pulling hard against the tether. Angrily, he grabbed it with his hand and prepared to jerk her off her feet.

  Berenger’s fist closed like an iron shackle on his wrist. “Do not.”

  Josa was startled. “You really believe she is from a wealthy family?”

  Berenger laughed heartily. “No! What do you take me for? She is a woman and will say and do anything to get her way. She goes to the priests as an offering to your god, Catubodua, just as you suggested.” Berenger called to the stricken woman, “Sorry girl, we have blood debts to pay.”

  A blood debt to priests. She knew her fate then and silently prayed that somehow Caros had survived and would forgive her.

  CHAPTER 12

  CAROS STOPPED FREQUENTLY to rest. The ride to his family home was just a half day’s journey, but the throbbing in his head at times threatened to overcome him in waves of darkness and topple him from his horse. He chose a little-used track to bypass the village of Orze, wondering if any villagers had remained after the Arvenci raid. It felt like something that had happened to someone else a long time ago. He reached the homestead in the late afternoon, having taken time to sleep through the hottest part of the day.

  He paused within sight of the home and stared hard, willing his mother, brother or father to appear. He imagined their voices in the breeze blowing through the burned roof tiles and recollections of his family saturated the view before him. The sun was almost set when he tore himself from visions of the past. Wearily, he cleared his nose and rubbed his sweat-streaked face dry with his tunic. He slid off the horse and reeling alongside her, made his way to the water trough. He was relieved to find that it held fresh water. His mare drank from one end while he rinsed his face before leading her to the where the horse pens had been. Blinking, he reached out and touched the newly set post to be sure he was not hallucinating. The pens had been rebuilt while he was away. Now that he looked, there were other signs that rebuilding was taking place.

  By the time he had rubbed the mare down he could barely walk. He stumbled into the house and finding no furniture, ended up curled under his cloak on the scorched wooden floor of what had been his and Xemo’s small room.

  Voices came from a long way off and Caros shied from them. Growing louder, they were punctuated with bangs and thuds. He groaned in protest, still woolly with sleep and then the surface he lay on creaked and vibrated. He flew awake with a grunt and snatched for his missing falcata. A man yelled in shock as Caros jerked upright. Gasping in pain, C
aros clutched his head and stared through pain-filled eyes at the unfamiliar room before focusing on the man standing in the doorway. Another figure pushed into the room while Caros slowly regained his wits. The second figure approached him with an outstretched hand.

  Ugar, the stonemason spoke. “Greetings, Caros. I think you frightened Brent half to death!”

  “Welcome back, Caros. It is good to see you returned although I would say you look far from well.” Brent peered closely at Caros as he spoke.

  He owned a neighbouring farmstead and his daughter had been promised to Caros’ brother, Ximo. The scorched floor creaked and groaned loudly as Brent approached. Caros stared at the two men through eyes blurred by the pain emanating from his head wound. He recalled asking the village elders to find some men to start rebuilding the home before he had left with Alugra.

  “I am well enough.” He replied in clipped words. “Just a little pain still, but that will pass.” The flooring creaked alarmingly as he shifted.

  “The floors have a lot of fire damage as you can hear. I would not stay here.” Ugar cautioned them.

  Caros rose and gathered up his cloak, wrapping himself as Brent ushered him from the room. Other men stood in the main room, some of whom he recognized from the village. Caros nodded greetings to the men who smiled broadly at him, one or two giving him a tentative pat on the back. Perplexed at the friendly reception, he followed Ugar outdoors where Brent joined them after giving the others instructions.

  “Thank you for coming to rebuild the place. I know how busy this time of the year is.” Caros smiled gratefully at the men. “I never expected so many men to help and so quickly.”

  Brent laughed. “They are grateful that you helped recover so much of the livestock. Many of them would be ruined if not for you.”

  Caros shook his head, ignoring the flare of pain the movement caused. “I was not the only one from the village who went. In any case, it is Alugra to whom we all owe thanks.”

  “Nonsense! To be sure we owe thanks to Alugra, but we heard of your battle and bravery as well. You did right by our clan and your father’s chest would be swelled with pride.” Brent’s eyes glistened with fervour.

  Ugar had been watching Caros closely and he spoke now. “You are more seriously hurt than you say. Your wound is recent. Were you attacked on the way back here?”

  The words came haltingly, and he avoided looking the men in the eyes, afraid to see their judgement. When he had finished speaking, both men were silent for heartbeats. Then they growled in anger and Brent vowed to find the attackers.

  “We will search for your woman, Caros. We will find her and kill these vermin.”

  “I am coming with you, Brent. I just need some water and to feed the mare.”

  Ugar gripped Caros by the arm. “You cannot do anything, Caros. You will just slow the warriors down.”

  Caros tried to pull his arm free and instead lost his balance, his head pounding and his vision clouding. “I must.”

  He came to in the dark, lying on his own bed. With a groan, he sat up and hearing voices from beyond the doorway, set his feet on the newly laid floor, tested his weight and stood slowly.

  A man sat with a woman at his side before the fire crackling in the hearth. At his appearance, the woman started with a yelp and the man rose and turned swiftly, concern flaring on the lined face of Ugar, the stonemason.

  “Caros, you should not be standing, you do not know how bad that wound is!” The woman bustled forward and Caros recognized her as his brother’s sweetheart, Julene.

  “What news, Ugar? Have the warriors found Ilimic?”

  Julene came to his side and took his arm gently. “Sit at least, Caros. I will fetch you some water.” She helped him to a bench.

  Meanwhile, Ugar was wringing his calloused hands. Caros noticed and his heart dropped. Unwilled, his eyes burned and his heart tore. “Tell me.” His words were a rasp on his tongue.

  “They found the speared horse and searched the ford and far into the hills all afternoon. They lost the tracks before nightfall.”

  “They have not found her?” He had thought they would find her bloodied and dead, but this was worse. The attackers must have taken her with them as a prize to be used as they wished. He cursed them and sent a prayer to Saur to feed their shades to his dogs. He would find them, and they would not die easily.

  Julene placed a cup in his hand and he drank grudgingly, the water bitter with the taste of guilt and remorse. Gagging, he threw the cup into the fire in anger.

  “I should be searching! I swear to find her and to kill the dogs that took her even as I vowed to avenge my kin.” Panting with anger, he felt blood soaking the linen tied around his head and trickling down his face and neck.

  Julene backed away nervously, her hand over her mouth and her eyes shining with fear.

  Ugar’s face showed only despair as he gripped Caros by the shoulders with his powerful hands. “That is as it should be. First you must rest and recover or you will not see another moon.”

  “I am leaving in the morning, Ugar. I will find them somehow. Saur’s dogs wait for me to send their shades to feast upon.”

  “Yours is the only shade that will cross Saur’s lands if you do not allow your wound to heal! How will you find your woman if you are dead? Think beyond the pain and anger. Think as your father taught you, Caros.”

  Caros shuddered in the man’s grip, loathing his body’s weakness. If he had just strapped his helm on tighter or better yet, avoided the blow that had struck him. Then he could have cut every one of the attackers down. His body heaved with pent up fury and he finally allowed the stonemason to help him to his cot.

  It was some days before Caros left the cot again. He accepted food and water in silence. Julene sat and spoke with him at times, but he said little and retreated into his own pain-wracked world. When he did rise, he did so before first light to avoid having to speak with his nursemaid. He slipped out into the cool morning and visited his mare. The mount was well cared for which he was thankful for and he stroked her cheek and spoke quietly to her for a long moment. He was weak and in pain which frustrated his determination to find Ilimic.

  Ugar had broken the news some days earlier that no amount of searching had revealed where they had left her body or where they had gone. Caros had known this would be the outcome. The gods were testing him, and he alone could find Ilimic. Movement from within the house told him Julene was awake.

  She smiled as Caros entered the main room where she was busy lighting the morning fire. “You are up! That is good as long as it is just for a little while. How do you feel?”

  Caros settled with a tight smile onto a bench. “I wish I was well enough to ride.”

  The fire began to crackle and Julene plopped a cup of water in front of Caros. “In time, Caros.” She sighed deeply. “Your brother was just the same. Remember when he popped his shoulder when that bull charged him? He was so mad, even with his arm hanging useless, I thought he was going to charge the bull right back!”

  Caros smiled woodenly, in no mood for reminiscing. He sipped the water to avoid having to speak. She was patient and kind and he felt bad that he was not more gracious, but his thoughts were so dark always. Every thought seemed like a thread in a garment that unravelled unerringly back towards Ilimic. Julene saw she was going to get no more than that smile so went to work on making a meal for Caros and Ugar who always arrived before the other men.

  Footsteps thumped across the portico and into the house. Ugar looked pleased to see Caros up. “Feeling a bit better?”

  “A little. I could not lie still another day.” He replied miserably and then asked, “Has there been any more news?”

  Ugar ignored Caros and greeted Julene. “Hmm, smells good. This girl is too good to me, Caros. I have told her a dozen times that Suls makes me eat before I come down here.” The stonemason took a seat opposite Caros, avoiding his eye for a heartbeat longer. The dread in his face was plain. Taking a breath, he fixed
his gaze on Caros. “The warriors have done all they can, Caros. Even Mussis, the old wolf-hunter, lost the tracks once they rejoined the road to the east.”

  Caros’ tongue thickened in his mouth. “So, you are saying there is nothing more we can do? It is over? Not even her body? Ilimic taken and we are powerless to do anything?”

  Ugar shook his head sadly. “No, well...” The stonemason faltered and then tried again, “We have sent messages to every village and town from here to the coast, north, south and west. Every trader knows of the attack. If there is news, it will come to us.”

  “Yes, that is a good thing! This does not happen in our lands. The people will find these murderers and Ilimic will be saved. I am sure of it. Whose idea was it to send messages?” Caros’ voice rose with hope.

  Ugar smiled uneasily. “Yes, it was Hunar’s. If someone sees these men, we will learn of it.”

  Caros frowned. “Then why do you look away?”

  Ugar sighed. “There have been similar attacks across the Bastetani lands. This was not an isolated act. People everywhere have been ambushed, murdered and worse.”

  “If that is so, then... news of Ilimic’s abduction will be just one more.” Caros rubbed his eyes. As soon as he was able, he would begin to scout the surrounding villages and towns for news.