by Socha, Walt
“Hold. Riders to the right along the shoreline.”
Larry turned to see Matuso pointing to a large group of mounted men breaking from the dark trees that backed the small trail that hugged the shoreline. “Where the fuck did they come from?”
“More men.” Matuso pointed toward one of the outbuildings.
“Back…” Larry started to say but a quick glance showed that the riders had them cut off from the ship. “Into a retreat wedge.” He lifted his whistle and blew four times. Then again. His head snapped back and forth as he surveyed options. Nowhere to go but the trees beyond the still empty fields. “Cassan, lead the men out of here.” Larry pointed north, and then shoved the youngster. “You can’t help your family by getting killed.”
The riders continued toward the pier and the Stormchaser. Maybe twenty.
As the men fled toward the safety of the thick trees, Larry slowed and drew his revolver.
Planting his feet, he breathed in, aimed and fired three times at the first group of attacking men. Two men dropped, and their companions disappeared back behind the main building.
“Shields up,” someone shouted.
The advancing men from the two outbuildings had parted to allow bowmen to fire through them. Pulling Cassan close, Larry flipped his shield over his head and knelt behind it.
Through a flurry of arrows, Larry saw that they seemed to be directed by two individuals, also on horseback. “Keep retreating to the trees and higher ground.”
Larry’s mouth tightened into a thin line as he lifted his revolver. Two shots. One rider fell. Another shot and the second one fell. The advancing line of men halted. Another hail of arrows arced into the sky.
Several cries of pain sounded behind Larry as a quick look to the pier showed Stormchaser being poled away from the pier, her partially raised sail fluttering in the light wind. A wind to the south and safety. More attackers on foot joined the riders on shore. Several shot arrows toward the fleeing vessel.
“Cassan, go.” Larry stood and pushed the youth behind him toward the north, away from the attackers. Larry knelt behind his shield, loading his last four cartridges. “Form a retreating wedge and follow Cassan,” he said over his shoulder, fumbling with the cartridges.
“There’s too many of them. Get them bows strung.”
Larry fired again. One bowman fell. Another cry of pain came from behind Larry as the third wave of arrows hit the Havenites.
As Larry followed his men, Matuso slowed to join him at the rear.
“Where to?” Matuso asked, looking from their following warriors to the Havenites. “Fire at will.” Long, steel tipped arrows flew in a shallow arc. Screams rent the air from the attackers.
“Away.” Larry glanced at the bay where too few hands were raising Stormchaser’s sails. “Anywhere. Follow Cassan.”
Larry exhaled and fired again. One of the enemy bowmen dropped. The attackers stepped back, and several dragged bodies behind the outbuildings.
With Cassan in the lead, the Havenites fled north, trampling the tilled fields and breaking through fences. Larry maintained his position at the rear, hoarding his last two cartridges.
At the pier, the mounted warriors turned from the disappearing Stormchaser and kicked their mounts toward the Havenites.
“Keep moving.” Slowing, Larry waited until the lead horsemen were 40 paces away. He turned, exhaled, and fired twice. Two of the mounted men fell, and the remaining horsemen jerked their frightened mounts to a halt.
In minutes, with the attackers indecisive, the Havenites fled into the tree-covered hills behind the farmstead.
Through a break in the gnarled oaks, Larry watched the attackers spreading out in cautious pursuit. Beyond the fleeing Stormchaser, a ship appeared at the mouth of the bay.
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About the Author!
Walt’s novels are set in the Medieval world and explore what happens when the knowledge of guns, germs, and steel are introduced into pre-European-contact civilizations.
Walt lives in Portland, Oregon with his artist wife Gretha and two cats (named Schiz and Zoid). When not writing, he plays jazz piano, performs labor sacrifices to the food chain goddess (in the vegetable garden), and cleans litter boxes.
