“I offer you the gift of hearth and water,” said Hulagu formally, and despite his misgivings, when they had approached close enough, “and may your sleep be safe and restful here. I am Hulagu of the Dire Wolves and I am on my wanderjahr.”
The two men looked somewhat surprised and there was an exchange of glances and a moment of hesitation before the older man spoke.
“I am Kitzez of the Bison, and this is Koyunlu, also of the Dire Wolves,” again there was hesitation before Kitzez stated Koyunlu’s tribe. “We accept your hospitality and thank you for it. May prosperity attend upon you and yours.”
Hulagu noted that, although his words were correct, he had spoken them hesitantly, as if he had not used them for a long time and they did not sit easily with his tongue. Luckily for Hulagu, both men immediately started to dismount and this enabled him to master his surprise. Not only had he never met or heard of a Koyunlu who matched the one before him, but also the Bison and Dire Wolf clans were in a feud at present over some ‘lost’ stock and a few other matters that had continued for a few generations from when their lands had met. It was only a minor feud as their grounds did not meet now, but it was still sufficient to make it unlikely that two members of the different clans would travel together. All three began to unsaddle and make moves to set up camp and, instead of voicing any suspicions,
Hulagu said to the Bison, “You are far from your tribe.” He tried to slow his speech a little so as to seem a little slow in the head himself.
“We have been hunting and living for some time in the forests far to the east,” said Kitzez, “and have only just decided to return to the land of the tribes. We travel slowly so as to find out what has been happening while we have been away.”
Hulagu just grunted as if in acceptance of this unlikely tale. Only just in time did Hulagu notice that he had been manoeuvred to be standing almost directly between the men. As he began to remove his shield from its place hanging from his saddle he noticed that, taking advantage of his main attention being on Kitzez’s words, Koyunlu was drawing his sword. He was only just able to grasp and swing his shield around in time as the sabre lashed out at his neck. It made a meaty sound and his arm jarred as the sword lodged through the woven cover into the leather beneath that clad the shield and then into the timber at the core. Hulagu twisted the shield to try and keep a cross-pressure on the blade to keep it lodged where it was as he danced back away from the suddenly skittish horses.
He wished that Kurghiz was a warhorse to fight at his side, but at present he was outnumbered and had to draw on all his skill against two older, and probably more competent, men. Koyunlu gave a hard wrench as Hulagu backed away quickly and the sabre wrenched free, unbalancing Koyunlu in the process. As Kitzez was still drawing his blade and grasping a shield, Hulagu was able to back up and draw his own weapon. Because it had a long shaft as it was intended to be used from horseback, his small-headed mace, as well as his slightly greater height and reach gave him a range advantage over the other two. He needed it. Being back against the trees meant that, if he was careful he would not have one of them attacking him from the rear.
However, he was soon in the fight of his life. Both of the pair were obviously more experienced in combat than he and, despite Kitzez cursing Koyunlu for acting too early, it was clear that they would eventually prevail. Their tactic was obvious. As in their first attack their object was openly to try and attack him from two sides, making him confront one of them while the other finished their work. Despite Hulagu’s best efforts, it seemed that they were about to succeed in killing him, and he still didn’t know why he was being attacked.
Chapter XI
While the rest of the trade caravan set up for the night, Bianca went out into the open plains looking for some guthog’s blessing to make a wash to get rid of the fleas that were on a couple of the pack animals. Although it was supposed to be a common plant, it was hard for her to find in the wild with her lack of the necessary skills. One grass, when growing, looked to her much like another and she was still learning to find things for herself out in the world. She was experienced at using them, but she was also used to buying her herbs at the apothecary’s shop, usually dried.
She had moved far from the camp in her search. As the light started to fade, Bianca realised she was well over a long bowshot away from the camp and had circled right around to the other side of it. It was only now, with the light fading, that she was returning with an armful of the grass that she had finally found.
The attack came when she had been away for an hour or more and there was a rise between her and the others. She heard a shout, screams, and the noise of fighting. Bianca felt surprised at this. Although they were only a small caravan of three light carts and a dozen pack animals, they were well protected, with six experienced guards. As well, the traders, other drivers and handlers were well-armed and experienced. No one expected any real trouble as the Khitan preferred to trade if you were peaceful and non-threatening, but a good watch was to be kept. It had apparently failed them.
This was Bianca’s first trip away from Freehold and, while most of her sixteen years had been spent working with animals or in taverns she knew that she lacked the experience of the rest of her caravan. She was the apprentice. Realising this, and aware that she had with her just her belt daggers and the sling that was knotted around her waist, her first thought was to try to hide in the low scrub. Looking around, however, there was no one in sight.
Bianca dropped the grass and moved cautiously to the top of the rise to see what was happening. Upon getting to the crest she peered through a small bush, hardly bigger than her head, trying hard not to be seen. As she did this the sounds of combat ceased, although yells, and then new screams soon arose in a female voice. She realised that the raiders were raping at least one of her companions—no it was two of them. Several of the other animal handlers and drivers, and one guard, were women, but she could not tell who was being assaulted from here. Everyone else seemed to be dead. Most of the attackers were already searching the carts and horse packs and they seemed to be looking for something. They broke off what they were doing to take turns with the women.
One Khitan stood on the rise opposite her—peering in the direction that she had left the camp. This made her crouch lower and she kept very still, the grass tickling her nose. He turned around, closely examining his horizon and looked to be listening on the wind. It seemed to her that he was familiar and she then realised that is was one of the guards, Mongtu. She didn’t like him. He was always leering and she thought he spied on everything she did. She’d had a strange prickly feeling when he was anywhere near her.
It seemed that her hunch had a deeper root than she had realised. He was close with another guard, Giacomo, whom she had had the same feeling about. The two had joined the caravan at Toppuddle at the last moment when two other guards had fallen sick and the local priests had been unable to pray them better. Looking down again among the other brigands she saw a man, one who was dressed like Giacomo, standing up from one of the rapes and adjusting his clothing and armour. Bianca marked him down. She wasn’t sure how, but she swore to God and St Ursula that she would somehow avenge his victim. The Khitan may have been a pagan, but Giacomo was supposed to be a Christian and above such things.
About half of the brigands were Khitan. The others were mostly clothed in the fashion of Freehold although one wore the dress and had the brown skin of Haven. Yet another was a Dwarf. It was hard to tell, but all looked to be male and they appeared to be working to a plan.
How they had managed to make it into the centre of the Khitan lands without being destroyed she did not know. The Khitan did not like large armed groups moving around the plains attacking people and from their appearance they must be outlaws, subject to instant execution whenever caught.
Curiously calm, Bianca said what she could remember of the prayers for the dead and the dying, asking the Lord to look after their souls. Surely, seeing that they had died fighting e
vil men, she hoped that it would do something to lessen their time in purgatory. Bianca had always paid close attention in church and, if being a foundling and not having any dowry at all had not been an impediment, she would have liked to have become a nun. Keeping watch, reciting as much of the funereal mass as she could remember and then silently rubbing her wooden rosary helped keep her mind off the screams and cries as they subsided down to muffled and pained sobs.
It was obvious when the brigands found what they were looking for. A Freeholder in a steel back and breastplate and greaves worn over a multi-coloured slashed tunic and leggings ran to the Dwarf holding something. Bianca could not see what it was, but it must have been small. The Dwarf examined it and then called something in a language she could not hear at that distance, but it did sound like what little she knew of Khitan. All the brigands stopped searching and began grabbing what they could stuff in saddlebags or carry. The women’s sobs continued a little longer and then terminated in two short gurgling screams as men stooped above them. The tribesmen among the attackers rounded up as many of the caravan’s horses they could as most of the group mounted and rode away.
Bianca could hear raised voices, and there was a lot of waving of arms and pointing. After a few minutes Mongtu shrugged and helped the Dwarf mount a horse, before mounting one himself. Both of them then galloped after the others.
The caravan had done well against such a force. It appeared to Bianca that there were empty saddles—ten at least—with bodies slung over them as well as horses from their caravan. However, this still left over thirty riders.
With a couple of horsemen moving to each flank, most galloped off to the northeast, keeping to the low ground between the rises in the plains. Two riders headed off the opposite way, roughly in the direction that Bianca thought that the caravan had come from.
Even with the raiders riding away, Bianca didn’t dare move from where she was hiding. She lay face down and sobbed into the grass, its strands coarse against her cheek. She knew that she still wasn’t safe. It was possible that someone, like Mongtu, could circle back and check if she had emerged from hiding. The fate of the women had terrified her. As the light faded around her, the stars became bright, hard points of light in a deep black field. The night began to grow chilly and Bianca rapidly began to wish that she had a cloak with her.
As the temperature dropped further, Bianca began to shiver. After some time, she considered going down the hill to the remains of her caravan. She was just about to move when she saw movement among the bodies. She thought, in between the darker shadows of the night, that there were beasts down there, but could not be sure.
She wished that she knew more about the places outside the cities and towns she had grown up in and further abroad than the short trips between them had shown her. She had very little idea what sort of wild beasts lived on the plains, beyond what she had heard about in stories. She had heard about giant wolves and cats as well as swift moving two-legged feathered lizards that hunted in packs.
So intent was she on trying to see what was happening that she nearly missed a familiar noise. Hearing a whickering sound, she realised that something was behind her and turned quickly around. Standing below her were two horses. She began to move down the slope, as quietly as she could to avoid panicking the beasts, but the horses snorted and it was obvious they knew she was there. As she drew closer, she firstly noticed that they appeared to be saddled and then secondly that they looked like the mounts of Paulo and Antonio, two of the guards. This made Bianca a little nervous, as both were trained warhorses—each of them far more dangerous than she was in a fight. Coming closer she saw a pale blaze on the head of the darker horse and knew that this was Sirocco, Paulo’s horse. If the other had white socks it would be Firestar, Antonio’s mount.
Making reassuring sounds she moved closer. They eventually moved towards her outstretched hand and soon the dampness of a nose met her hand. Luckily the animals had always seemed to like her and, when their owners had been busy with other duties she had been introduced to the horses and been the only one of the handlers who had been allowed to feed and groom them without being bitten or trodden on.
She saw that the other horse was indeed Firestar and called them by their names. Their ears flicked and they seemed to recognise her as she moved along Sirocco’s flank, her hand sliding along his warm hide as she moved. Nervously checking the saddlebags she found some apples, which she shared with the horses. Next she found hobbles and the horses, after eating the apples, let her put them on their feet, although it was clear they were more used to some other form of control.
Bianca kept searching and found, in one of Paulo’s bags, his spare clothes including a cloak, which she draped around her, its hem spilling over the ground. She dared not take the saddles off the horses, in case they had to move quickly. Now much warmer, and with the bulk of the horses towering above her, Bianca curled up on the ground and drifted off towards sleep.
It was not a restful sleep, being filled with disturbing dreams. She dreamt of Mongtu and Giacomo alternately searching for her and chasing her. After much tossing and turning Bianca dreamt that she was in a warm but stormy sea trying to escape the two and woke up to discover that Sirocco was nuzzling her. Both horses still stood over her. Disentangling herself from the cloak she realised that it was full daylight. After taking the hobbles off the horses, Bianca gave them each another apple and checked them over. Both had small wounds and cuts—they must have been in combat and had probably only moved away once their riders had died. She cleaned these cuts with water and then gingerly mounted Sirocco, slightly the smaller of the two, taking Firestar’s reins in hand. With the horses she felt more secure about investigating the caravan and moved cautiously around the rise, checking first to see if anyone was approaching.
Bianca was horrified at the scene that greeted her. The bodies of her companions were the roost of scavenger birds, which had started to argue over the spoils. Suddenly forgetful of being heard she began yelling loudly and charged the birds, driving them off the bodies. Upon seeing the bodies close up she was very nearly ill. Apart from the damage of battle, she could see that larger scavengers than the birds had been worrying the corpses overnight. Some of her companions could only be recognised by what remained of their clothes.
Having decided she could not leave them like this, Bianca gathered the carts together and began pulling the bodies into them. She steeled herself and practically searched each body, each pouch and anything else that might hold anything of use to her.
She then found her small bedroll, containing her flute and then began assembling a small pile of cooking gear, weapons, food, money, herbs and unguents, even some extra clothes that would fit her. Much to her surprise she was starting to get used to the work until she turned to her seventh body and discovered that it was Rosa, another animal handler, a pretty and happy girl not much older than herself.
Rosa had been one of the rape victims, her head nearly severed as she was executed. She lay face down with blood pooled under her neck and around her groin. Bianca turned her over to find that her body was covered in cuts and bruises and one breast had been bitten severely by Human teeth. Bianca could take no more and knelt beside the body, crying and vomiting. After some time, and still crying, she resumed her task, starting to recite the prayers for the dead over and over as a shield against the horror she felt.
Why had she been left alive when Rosa had died so brutally? Pausing only to occasionally look around, and to ensure the horses were watered and fed, she eventually finished her task. Having gathered the bodies, she now had to sort out the goods. Looking up, she discovered that there were now three horses. The two battle steeds had been joined by another; a packhorse with a broken halter.
Bianca caught the third horse and saddled it with a pack frame and added two of the intact horse packs. Adding what she had found less than half-filled them. She hung water and wine skins from the frame and, with difficulty added the only whole sack o
f feed grain to the top, lashing it between the packs. Most of the daggers she added to her person, although she was not used to wearing so many. Most were in sheaths for arm or leg and several were uncomfortably strapped to her torso and even between her shoulders.
Sometimes she substituted leather strips for proper harness and took more used tack to make more harness later. She also had three pouches of sling bullets hanging from her saddle, the larger one of plain lead bullets, a smaller one had two hands of silver lead ones and the third were also of lead, but each bullet in that bag had markings of some sort. Bianca hoped that this might indicate they were magical.
Once she was ready, Bianca realised the day only lacked but an hour or so until darkness. She didn’t want to stay here another night so she said some final prayers, mounted Sirocco, and moved off leading the other two horses. She decided to return to Freehold, hopefully following the path that the caravan had taken to reach this point. As she rode she looked around her, hoping to see if anyone was approaching. When she brought herself to gaze back, she saw that carrion birds circled the site of the caravan. Belatedly realising that this must mark her position to anyone who was interested she urged Sirocco to greater speed, the other two following behind. After a while she brought the speed down to a walk when the packhorse started to lag and pull on the lead rein.
After riding for an hour she rode to the top of a tall rise nearby and carefully checked the horizon. Seeing nothing Bianca rode down into the hollow below and made a camp while it was still light. She stripped the saddles and packs off the horses and carefully groomed them and rubbed them down. At every noise she nervously spun around. When she had finished she gave water and a small amount of grain to the horses before preparing herself a cold meal. In the little light that was left to her Bianca decided to see if she could teach herself how to throw some of her new knives in the hidden sheaths—weapons that were meant for this purpose.
Intimations of Evil (Warriors of Vhast Book 1) Page 14
