“If you wish to return to loved ones, do not venture off alone. Heed recall at once and move quickly to assembly points.”
They were close to the caravan when Helwin angled her troop off to the south. Guided by two wolves, she set a course to circle around to the rear of the caravan. Jeff continued on until Balko warned of Salchek outposts. Bear troop dismounted and tended their horses while nervously awaiting the message from Helwin’s wolves that they were in position to attack.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“We shall leave on patrol momentarily, my commander.”
Lingol Bollit acknowledged the nattily attired officer’s crisp salute by touching his campaign hat, a wide-brimmed cap.
“Do not allow your patrols to bunch up. They grow careless. Should I discover they seek entertainment among the women at the rear of the column as they have done in the past, they and most likely you will be afoot tomorrow.”
“Yes sir. It has been an uneventful trip to date.”
Bollit stooped to ignite a slender wand in the campfire. The fire, a lackluster affair fueled by dung, illuminated a face weathered to the consistency of old leather by constant exposure to the elements and many wars. It was also a troubled face. A globe of fire ignited at the end of the wand and Bollit set it on top of his pipe. He puffed sindar weed alight and drew in a satisfying lungful before returning his attention to the sub-lieutenant.
“This is not an academy exercise, Heskelit. Do not assume that matters will progress according to plan. Our adversaries have proven themselves competent and professional far beyond what past experience would indicate. Their attack on our army’s supply train was as well planned and smoothly executed as any I have commanded or participated in.”
“They are northern rabble, sir.”
“They are not!”
“Yes sir. I deeply regret I was not present to greet them.”
You young, foolish idiot, Bollit thought. You were not there. That supply train was savaged. A Power has risen in the North and they saddle me with green snot-noses. And this one! Fresh from the academy and of noble family!
“Do you know what a wolf is?”
Sub-lieutenant Heskelit wondered if his boss was losing his nerve. “Some form of dog, Commander.”
“Were a wolf to stand on its hind legs you would have to look up to see its head. If one of these creatures was willing, you could throw a saddle on its back. Think about that while you are on patrol.”
“Yes sir. Perhaps they will attack us when we draw near Rugen. My family would be proud were I to return with a wolf head.”
“Dismissed. Mount your patrols and maintain intervals.”
Heskelit saluted and hurried off. Bollit watched him fade into the darkness. Somewhere in his mind he was composing the letter he would have to send to the young man’s family when he was killed in action. Regretfully knocking dottle from his pipe, Bollit wondered who would write his. He had never had such a thought before and gazed at the heavens in search of guidance, but saw only unfamiliar constellations that offered nothing.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The tension grew steadily as minutes ticked by. It seemed an eternity before one of the wolves with Helwin put out a general call.
“The yellow-hairs have arrived. They are ready.”
Balthazar and the leader of the second wolf pack reported they were also in position. They would hit the front of the caravan and work south, stripping draft horses as they went
Ordering his men to mount up by doing so, Jeff sent the attack order to Helwin’s wolves. She would take her cue from them. He nudged Cynic into a walk. Ears laid back in preparation for action, Balko crouched along in front.
“Ready for a little dust-up, brothers?”
“When have we not been?”
Balko was so intent on the caravan that all he did was fling a mental growl.
As they advanced at the walk, a wide band of glowing campfires emerged from the night. Set against a star-filled sky, the band wound south and became a ribbon of light that gradually narrowed as it approached the horizon.
His body charged with adrenaline, Jeff maintained the slow walk. “Come on Helwin!” he muttered. “Let’s get it on!”
Cynic was jerking his head with impatience and lathering up when Jeff heard a faint commotion from the south.
“That has to be it! If it isn’t, screw it!” Drawing Berold and letting internal pressure blow out his lungs, Jeff screamed an Alemanni war cry and booted Cynic.
Bellowing battle cries, hooves pounding on the prairie, fifty warriors and horses descended on the head of the caravan like a storm. A confused mob of teamsters boiled out of their bedding in random patterns as Bear Troop charged into their midst.
Unable to see anything in the dark, their frightened questions turned to cries of pain as swords thudded home. Cynic trampled several as Jeff guided him toward the closest wain, their screams lost among the others.
Splashing turpentine on the wagon, Jeff dumped live coals from a pot and blew them to life. A dim shadow reared up in the wagon bed and Jeff ducked as a club whistled by his head. Thrusting with his saber, he felt it grate across ribs. The shadow tumbled down to sprawl over Cynic’s withers. Jeff flipped the body off with a desperate heave and fanned the small blaze with his hat until it took off with a whoosh.
Lighting a torch from the fire he urged Cynic toward the next wagon, swinging his saber in vicious arcs as hostlers and teamsters pressed close. Balko leaped into the thickest bunch, bearing several to the ground and scattering the rest. Alemanni troopers holding blazing torches seemed to be everywhere to Jeff’s fevered eyes, some leaping their horses over wagon tongues in their haste to find another target.
Then the wolves came charging in on either side of the caravan. They blew through depleted guards and attacked draft horses up and down the line. Rearing and thrashing about in an agony to gain their freedom, many broke loose and stampeded through the battle trampling anyone in their path.
Confused groups of men and women ran from point to point trying to rally as fire after fire sprang up and bathed the area in a hellish glow. Feeling like an hour had passed, Jeff fought his way from wagon to wagon setting fires as he went and wondering where in hell the Salchek cavalry was. Seeming to be everywhere at once, Balko made the difference time and again.
Jeff hacked his way out of a group of teamsters who were trying to drag him from the saddle and took a second to look around. Those of his troop he could see were hard pressed. This is getting too tight, he thought. Leave while you can!
Putting horn to lips Jeff blew three mighty blasts, let out a rebel yell and charged into a pack of teamsters that were in the way. He was almost through when his leg was hit a tremendous blow. Jeff screamed with pain, and Cynic nearly unseated him when he whirled to trample the life out of a club-wielding teamster. They won free and Jeff sounded the horn twice again to marshal his troop.
His leg hurt so badly it was hard to concentrate, but Jeff thrust it aside. He expected to get hit by the Salchek cavalry at any moment. He ordered his troop into battle formation and sent Balko to reconnoiter. He scouted a wide circle but found nothing of concern.
Dawn was several hours away when they moved out. Jeff calculated that should give them plenty of time to reach the rendezvous point. An urgent call blasted into his mind from Helwin’s wolves.
“The female yellow-hair is hard beset! Come swiftly!”
“Dammit, that’s where they all are! She won’t have a chance against that many!”
Jeff swung Cynic south and set a pace that under other circumstances would have been insane, horses stumbling and sliding in the night. Balko had run ahead when he heard the summons and guided them back toward the caravan. Jeff heard the sounds of a cavalry action.
“Form line!”
They had approached to within several hundred yards of the caravan. There were enough wains on fire to reveal the battle and terrain.
“At the canter!”
“Charge!”
Bear troop responded with a tremendous shout and put spurs to their horses. When they crashed into the melee, the noise level jumped to the point where thought was blown away.
Engaging a Salchek on either side, Jeff whipped Berold back and forth in an elaborate figure of eight. Cynic took on a horse directly ahead and clubbed its rider out of the saddle. The odds were still more than two to one, and Salchek pressed in from every angle until Cynic could hardly move.
“Wolf-brothers and sisters! Come to me now!”
The call was barely on its way when a wolf sailed by in front of Cynic, stripping a Salchek horse of its rider. Seconds more and both wolf packs had piled into the battle.
Many of the thirty-five wolves leaped from saddle to saddle, clearing Salchek as they went and savaging the horses. The horses bucked and shrilled like mad things as they fought to get away. They crashed into one another, friend and foe alike, while wolves a third as big as the horses scrabbled to keep their balance until they could leap to the next horse. Everyone knew, Alemanni and Salchek alike, that to fall meant certain death.
Jeff trusted Cynic to deal with the panicked horses and concentrated on keeping a sword out of his back. Cynic had a hard time of it as horses caromed into him from all sides, but kept his feet and carried them deeper into the battle. There was no order or purpose other than to stay alive.
We’ve got to get out of here. Jeff urgently thought. Won’t be long before more cavalry find us. Do it now and screw the ammunition!
Drawing the Ruger, he put the muzzle nearly against an opponent’s head and blew half his skull away. Sixteen times an orange spear of flame shot out, muzzle blasts and slugs adding another dimension of terror to the madness. Withdrawing the dry magazine, Jeff rammed a new one home only to find the field clear of enemy. Jeff sounded recall on the horn and shouted for Helwin.
A trooper spurred his horse close to Cynic. “Captain, the lieutenant was last seen near the caravan.”
“We must find the yellow-haired she who is my companion. Track back toward the great fire. I will follow.”
Jeff put a sergeant whose judgment was sound in charge of both troops. “Gather as many riderless horses as you can, Wulfern, but do not tarry long. Await me at the rendezvous point.”
The trooper saluted and began bellowing orders. Whirling Cynic, Jeff hurried to catch up with the wolves.
“The she is found.”
Cynic plunged to a halt by Balthazar. Jeff leaped from the saddle and kneeled by Helwin’s side. He probed for the carotid pulse and breathed a great sigh of relief when he found it. The light was poor, but he detected no evidence of blood or open wound except on her head. They were out of time and had to move or die.
Too heavy to lift, Jeff dragged Helwin over to Cynic and somehow manhandled her across his withers. Once in the saddle, Jeff rolled Helwin onto his thighs. Exhausted by the battle and carrying two big people, Cynic staggered off for the rendezvous point.
Tremendous relief swept the company when they arrived. Eager arms lowered Helwin to the ground in the first light of dawn. His work just begun, Jeff started patching wounds. He mustered the company for role call at full light. The count stopped at 85. Although some had likely become lost and would join up later, Jeff figured he had lost twenty percent of his effectives.
“How many horses did you capture?”
Wulfern looked up from the trooper’s leg he was bandaging. Deep lines of fatigue were etched on his face.
“Three hands, Captain.”
“I had not hoped for so many. You have done well.”
They remounted and headed for base camp, Jeff continuing to carry Helwin. Other warriors were likewise burdened. They stayed well down in the grassland’s shallow valleys, wolves working the hills as lookouts. Helwin started to thrash before long, and Jeff was hard put to keep from dumping her.
The sun was well up when they plodded into camp. Jeff groaned relief when troopers eased Helwin off his thighs. As soon as his feet hit the ground, legs long deprived of circulation crumpled and he had to hold on to the saddle to keep from falling. Waving away help, Jeff hung on until his legs throbbed back to life. When the wounded were taken care of he saw to Cynic and crashed onto his furs.
Jeff crawled out of his nest early in the afternoon. He tried to stand up but injured thigh muscle cramped into a knot. The pain was so intense he clawed at the dirt to keep from screaming. The cramp eventually relented and Jeff was able to limp around camp. Troopers were also moving around and coaxing fires to life.
As predicted, the Alemanni had become hooked on coffee while training north of Rugen. The first pots set to brewing did the trick for those still abed. The two troops mustered under the eyes of their sergeants and that of the boss, who was gratified at the initiative being shown. Jeff handed out assignments, dismissed the troops and spent some time with the wounded. Helwin was rocking back and forth holding her head when he kneeled by her bed with a damp cloth.
“Tough night, Helwin. You took a hard blow to the head. Hold still.”
Removing the bandage, he washed caked blood from her hair and forehead. The wound, a three-inch laceration, started to bleed. A fresh bandage stopped the flow.
“Okay, that ought to do it.”
Helwin looked around blankly trying to orient herself. Jeff fetched a mug of coffee to help her come up to speed. By the time it was gone Helwin’s eyes were tracking together and she mustered a wan smile of thanks. Jeff gave her a briefing but skimmed over details of her rescue.
“I’m going to head back with Balko and scout results. Get more rest then make sure the troops set up lean-tos. I don’t like the looks of this weather. We’ll talk when I return.”
Helwin set the mug down and fell back onto her furs with a groan. Jeff discovered he couldn’t stand and had to crawl a ways toward the remuda before his injured leg loosened up.
“How you doing, big boy? Ready for a little jaunt?”
“I can imagine what little means! But as I have said, this one is always ready.”
It was a long, painful afternoon for Jeff and Cynic. Balko had taken a few hits and showed the strain as well. Still, limping or not, someone had to lead the way and it might as well be him.
The weather had been going sour for several days. Jeff looked up at the dark gray clouds hanging overhead and could smell snow coming soon. Winter memories from the far north jumped to mind and sent a convulsive shiver down his body.
When he smelled wood smoke, Jeff turned Cynic loose to graze and follow along at his own pace. Balko was waiting when Jeff bellied up to the rim of a hill that seemed familiar. He removed his hat and cautiously peered over the top. Thirty wains were still smoldering at the head of the caravan.
“Enemy or not, that is one ugly sight.”
They worked south from hill to hill, tallying draft horses and dodging the occasional patrol. Dusk caught them only two-thirds of the way down the line. Jeff slumped to the ground on the backside of a hill. Uncorking a water-skin, he splashed water on his face and took a long pull. Feeling some better, he went over the notes he had taken.
“Can’t be more than 1,200 draft horses left,” he muttered. “They’re going to be down to three or four per wagon. Even if it doesn’t snow and we leave them alone, they couldn’t make Rugen before year’s end.”
Jeff wondered how much damage Helwin’s troop had inflicted before they were attacked, but it was getting so dark there was no point in going farther. While he knew her troop had fired some of the wains before they were hit, the packhorses were another matter.
A Salchek patrol came winding around a hill to the west, forcing Jeff to beat a hasty retreat. Cynic had enjoyed his afternoon off and loped along without complaint. He had rested a bit, the grass was prime, and his belly rumbled pleasantly. Shortly, leaden skies began to spit snow
.
Trotting into bivouac well after dark, heavy flakes had turned the ground white. Leaving Cynic free to graze, Jeff hurried to the nearest fire and the smell of roasting meat. It was a pleasure just to sit and talk about anything except war for a while. Later, he went in search of Helwin and found her working over damaged battle gear in a circle of firelight. Sitting down next to her on a handy boulder, Jeff warmed his hands over the fire. Snowflakes swirled silently into the firelight, hissing as they fell on coals.
Helwin was occupied redoing a lance head binding, so they shared some minutes of companionable silence. Securing the last turn with a knot, she laid the weapon down on a pile of equipment that had already been repaired. Clasping her knees, Helwin stared into the fire while Jeff related the gist of his reconnoiter. She remained silent for a period after he finished.
“I have learned the complete nature of my rescue. You have saved my life. I thank you.”
“You would have done the same for me,” Jeff replied with a wave of dismissal. “Any of our warriors would have.”
“Any of our warriors did not. You did, and at great personal risk. Do not make light of your effort, for it was no small thing.”
Thank you’s always made him uncomfortable and Jeff changed the subject. “Were you able to scatter the packhorses before the Salchek cavalry found you?”
The look on Jeff’s face was familiar, and Helwin smiled into the fire. Modesty was uncommon among the Alemanni, and it appealed to her.
“We succeeded in winning our way through the wains and were among the packhorses when attacked. I believe it safe to say that while gaining our freedom from the caravan they experienced a certain unease.”
Helwin’s droll humor brought a smile to Jeff’s face, but it was fleeting. He visualized what it must have been like to be assaulted by such a large force while in the middle of such a large remuda.
“Your understatement does you credit, Lieutenant. I think we can count our attack an unqualified success. Now as much as I hate to see this snow for personal reasons, it serves our purpose. Life will be tough for us, but absolute hell for the caravan. It won’t be long before those wains are bogged down to their axles. The Salchek aren’t going to have any idea how to deal with this weather. From what I know of them, it seems likely they come from southern lands.”
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 51
