Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian

by C A Nicks

  Crouching, he dipped a finger in the dirt floor and then painted dark streaks on his nose, his cheeks and chin. He hid only for Tig, but he could not let go the thought that an enemy had the right to see the face of the man who killed him. And kill them he would. One by one until their corpses littered the yard and Tig was safe once more.

  Or until the next time. What had been a simple plan to heal and leave, regain some power and then find a way home, was becoming more complicated by the day. Independent as Tig was, she would not survive unprotected for much longer. If not him, then someone would take her. Or she would give herself in exchange for some peace of mind. Independent, yes, but practical too. She’d married Carson for the same reason she would end up marrying Hal.

  His fingers curled about the stock of the crossbow. The thought of her marrying Hal disturbed him more than it should. Hal would be a good choice. He was in with Warrington, wily and clever. A man on the rise, not a man who would be gone as soon as he found the means to employ a clever-enough mage.

  Fabian refocused, peering from the window to see one of the Jura dismounting and running to the darkened window of the house. The man signed something to his companions who all pulled up their horses and leaped down, some carrying axes, some crossbows. At least three rifles. He saw them pull the long-barrelled weapons from their saddle bags.

  A tall race, rough clothing, flowing hair. Faces painted with white powder. They moved silently and as one, communicating through gesture, each seeming to know their part in the unfolding drama.

  A disciplined raiding party was a dangerous one. The two torch-bearers moved towards the house. To give light or burn it? Fabian’s finger tightened on the trigger. Loosened again as they waved the torches at each of the windows and stared into the gloom.

  One of them bent to examine the earth beneath his feet. Fabian recognised the practiced eye of the tracker. A raiding party always had one. The man lifted his head, spat out a few words to his comrades and then turned towards the barn. He stood for a moment, studying the dark building intently, no doubt noting the position of the doors and windows. Then the man tipped back his head and gave his attention to the window above the hay-loft.

  Inside the barn, he and Tig still held the element of surprise, but the Jura had already split up. Two of them were missing from the group. Were there windows at the back? Fabian couldn’t remember. This was a game of nerves in which the leader would sacrifice one of his men to a bullet or a bolt in order to learn the location of the prey. Although his finger itched to pull the trigger, Fabian knew he must wait until Tig opened fire. And then they must take out as many of the raiders as possible before the combat became hand to hand.

  Unfamiliar tactics, but not hard to grasp. And although his heart beat with the speed of a marga-bird’s wings, and his throat was so dry he would be hard-pressed to swallow, he felt a building exhilaration at the thought that in this battle he would face the ultimate test. This time he was fighting for his life.

  And for Tig’s, which somehow seemed more important.

  The sharp retort of a rifle shattered his thoughts, bringing him back to the task at hand. Being unfamiliar with the weapon, he had no idea who had fired and from what angle. The evidence lay in the yard before him--one of the torch-bearers flat on his back, clawing at a wound that had opened his chest judging by the dark stain spreading over his jacket. The acrid smell of smoke filled Fabian’s nostrils, and he realised then why Tig had fired.

  They’d torched the barn. Drawn their fire and found out there was at least one person inside. Did he fire, too and let them know Tig had an accomplice? The decision was made for him. In the time it took him to raise the bow, the raiders had melted into the shadows.

  And he and Tig, Cafino and the dogs were trapped and about to burn.

  Rain. Emptying his mind, he visualised dark clouds fat with rain. Saw them burst and drench the barn. Once he’d commanded the elements, now he was at their mercy. He tried again. Nothing.

  Smoke poured from the far corner nearest to Cafino’s stall. The high whickering signalled the beast’s panic and it would soon be trying to kick its way free. He glanced out of the window. No sign of the raiders. Slinging the bow across his back, he scooted across the barn, keeping low to the floor. If he could reach the pump he may be able to quench the fire.

  “Fabian, the barn.”

  He almost knocked Tig down as she charged across the barn towards him, hotly followed by the dogs.

  “I know. You take the window. I’ll try to put out the fire.”

  “If you can’t, let Cafino out. I’d rather they took him than he burn to death.”

  “If I open that door I won’t be able to hold them back.”

  “They’re coming anyway.” She stopped to take in a shuddering breath. “Surrender may be our best option. They’ll be after slaves as well as goods.”

  He raised his chin. “It will never be an option for me.”

  “It means we live to fight another day. And while we’re arguing, my barn is burning.”

  Tig turned to the window, he to the task of pumping water. He shouldn’t be angry with her for talking so blithely of defeat. He would fight as a mortal, but not as a woman. They gave in far too easily to their fate.

  To his relief there was more smoke than fire, mostly it seemed from the logs stacked against the barn’s stone walls, the smoke seeping in through the ventilation holes. He soaked the walls as best he could but could not put out the blaze without going outside and dousing the wood-stack.

  “Move Cafino.” Tig gestured to the other end of the barn. “Get him away from the smoke.”

  He untethered the frightened beast and led him away from the smoke only because he knew Tig would not rest until he did. He crawled back up beside her, straining to catch any movement in the yard.

  “What now?” He moved to put himself between Tig and the door. As yet the raiders did not know of his presence. Best keep that nasty shock for when they came charging in.

  “I should surrender.” There was iron in her voice as well as resignation. A dangerous mixture. “Let them take me and you can get away. They’ll assume I’m here alone. Won’t know anything about you. It’s the best way.”

  “I will not allow it.”

  “What point is there in letting them take us both? Let go of me, Fabian.”

  “No.” He’d grasped her arm to hold her in place in case she really meant to make this foolish sacrifice. “I’m flattered that you would do this for me, but I won’t let you.”

  “How many could you take out with the bow?”

  “If I had them in my sights, one for each bolt.”

  “What if I stage a surrender? Stand at the door with a white flag. Offer them the gun. You start shooting the moment they appear? And if I’m still standing, I’ll join in.”

  “A woman who thinks like a man.” He caressed her cheek. “I’m not worth your life.”

  “They know I’m in here. And they’ll wait all night, and all day and the next until they starve me out. I’m quick and I’ll be careful. They’ll want me alive, not dead. I’m a valuable commodity.”

  Already she was straining against his restraint. Her plan had logic but also great risk. She nodded encouragement and gently removed his rigid fingers from her arm.

  “I know you’d take my place, but then we’d lose our only advantage. Pass me that stick.”

  With one eye on the window, he watched her crawl to the potato sack and tip the contents onto the ground. She tied the sack to the stick, gave it an experimental wave and took a deep breath.

  “I’m going to open the door and wave the flag. Then I’ll step into the opening. Don’t start firing until most of them are out. Hold your nerve and everything will be okay.”

  “I will not let you down, but I still think this is too risky.”

  “Risky or not, it’s all we got. Kiss me for luck?”

  “Afterwards.” A momentary flash of disappointment as his rejection, but he hoped s
he understood that it would feel too much like a goodbye.

  His heart crawled into his throat when she made her way to the barn-door. The rifle she propped by the jamb, out of sight but within reach.

  By Jopra, such bravery. But he should not have expected less from her. When she eased open the door a crack and put out the flag, he had to stop himself from charging across the barn and pulling her back before she revealed herself.

  Concentrate. His job was to fell as many of the raiders as possible. Even with mortal reflexes he knew he could do their numbers damage, providing they revealed themselves.

  “Noki atate. Noki atate grantia.”

  Tig, calling now through the open door. With only a slight hesitation, she stepped into sight and held up her arms. “Noke atate,” she said again.

  And then he heard a shot.

  * * * *

  Tig managed to stand firm as the shot pinged off the stone walls of the barn, waiting for them to finish their games and step out of the shadows and hopefully into Fabian’s line of fire. If she knew the Jura, there would be a few moments of posturing before they came for her.

  On cue, a knife whistled past her head, thudding into the door-frame beside her. She willed Fabian to hold his nerve. An impromptu rescue now would get them both killed.

  “Ni calimi, don’t hurt me,” she said attempting to sound like the pitiful, terrified woman they’d expected to find. The terrified part wasn’t too hard. She prayed they were all good shots and they hadn’t got too drunk before riding out on their rampage.

  A war-axe circled through the air, landing in the dirt at her feet. She almost smiled, then. They obviously thought her incapable of snatching up the weapons to wield against them, but they had no idea who lurked inside the barn.

  A low groan came from the figure lying by the water-tank. Still alive and in agony by the sound of the downed warrior. Or perhaps not as badly hurt as she thought, left as a decoy to draw her pity. She might have run to him once, no matter what the cost to her, when she had pity to spare even for her enemy.

  That time was long past.

  “I’m surrendering, you stupid bastards. Are you coming to get me, or do we have to play more games?”

  They weren’t showing. Maybe they meant to kill her after all? No, her hair alone would be worth taking her back for. But then they could have the hair without her. The thought sent a prickle of ice down her spine. Placing her wrists together, she gestured manacles, hoping they’d take the hint that she really was giving way.

  A guttural cry to her left. One of the raiders appeared, gun rammed to his shoulder. He gestured her to approach him.

  She stood her ground. Once out of the doorway she was too vulnerable. And the rifle would no longer be in reach. Covering her face she started to shake, let out a loud sob, then another. For greater effect, she fell to her knees, whimpering for them not to hurt her. The man laughed and put up his gun.

  Two more appeared, covering the first with crossbow and axe. Not enough. She peeked through her fingers.

  Come on, you cowards. Can’t you see I’m just a terrified girl?

  If more didn’t show soon they would haul her from the barn and then they would have a hostage and Fabian wouldn’t dare reveal himself.

  Or even worse, it might give him the excuse he sought for an all out attack, which would get him killed. Did he truly understand the vulnerability of his new flesh?

  The leader was in front of her now, leather-clad legs level with her face. She couldn’t help noticing the studded boots. An unusual choice for the Jura. Most probably stolen from some poor victim. Grasping a handful of her hair, he yanked back her head, forcing her to look at him.

  “Alone?”

  The voice was heavily accented, deep and raspy, like one who’d smoked too much tobacco.

  “Yes.” His fingers tightened on her hair, almost pulling the hank from her scalp. The knife was a mere few inches from her head. She resisted the temptation to pull it from the wood and drive it into his leg. Right now, timing was everything.

  “You lie. Where other?”

  He shook her as he spoke and then hauled her to her feet almost lifting her from the ground.

  “Others dead. Only me left.”

  “Not believe. Call other, or we will take you here, in yard. All my men.”

  “Virgin. Worth more in slave market. Only me. No other.”

  “You married warlord. No virgin. Call other.”

  They knew someone else was here. All along, they’d known. Had they been watching? Fabian was worth more than her at the markets. Maybe it wasn’t her they were after at all.

  “I can’t call other if no other is here,” she said defiantly. The plan was in tatters. Only three revealed and the raiding party somehow forewarned she had an accomplice.

  “I take you now.” The man let her go and reached for his flies. “Then other will show.”

  Time for plan B. Oldest trick in the book, but the brute looked dumb enough to fall for it. She touched a finger to one of her shirt buttons. Twisted it open slowly and then moved on to the next all the while keeping her gaze locked with his.

  “If it’s sex you want, you only have to ask. You want me, you come and get me.” The shirt fluttered to the ground and, naked to the waist, she scooped it up and took a step back into the barn. With a crooked finger, she called him in.

  “Only me,” she said. “All alone. I’ll give you a good time. Come.”

  Not as dumb as he looked. The leader’s face remained impassive, unimpressed. Instead he gestured to one of the others to go into the barn and drag her out. She risked another couple of steps, hoping to give Fabian a clear shot. Two, not one charged into the barn after her. The first died silently, a crossbow bolt through his heart. The second went down with a sharp scream, pulling frantically at the crossbow bolt protruding from the back of his head.

  Tig dived sideways, not missing the leader’s quick flick of his head towards the window. No use pretending now his suspicions had been confirmed. Fabian was already taking aim through the open window. He fired, cursed, fired again.

  “Did you get him?” She should have closed the door and couldn’t do it now without making herself visible. She grabbed the gun and threw it to Fabian. Slid her arms into her shirt and quickly buttoned it, averting her gaze from the two dead men who stared vacantly into the gloom.

  “I did not get a clear shot.” The disgust in Fabian’s voice was evident.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You got two of them. Smoke seems to have died down. Do you think the fire is out?”

  “Can’t tell. I should go confront them now they know I’m here. Offer them man to man combat. Would they accept?”

  “No, they don’t fight that way. Was odd though, the way the leader kept insisting I had someone else here. Almost as if he knew.”

  “Merely being cautious. I would have asked the same.”

  “I guess. Oh hell, horses. Look lively, here they come.”

  “No, no, they’re leaving. The cowards are turning tail.”

  “No way.” She risked a peek from the window. The group were mounted, already pouring through the gate to the yard. When Fabian raised the bow, she stopped him.

  “Save the bolts. They’re already out of range.”

  “Are they regrouping?”

  She slumped down, back to the wall, the rifle across her knees. “I have no idea what they’re doing. Once they realised I had someone else here with me, they left. Very odd and a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

  Fabian twisted to sit beside her. “You think that was the purpose of their visit?”

  “Well, they didn’t come for tea and cakes. And they obviously didn’t come to raid the farm, either. Even if they hadn’t got me, the Jura would have taken any spoils they could sell. Hell, even my pottery would be valuable to them and yet they left empty-handed. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Perhaps their leaving was a decoy. To draw us out. Is there a chance that some may yet b
e lurking out there?”

  “Could be, I suppose. But again, the tactics are all wrong. Jura do things by the book, they never deviate. I’ve got to check something.”

  Keeping low, she crawled to the nearest corpse and lifted one of his arms. Pushed back his coat and shirt-sleeve to reveal the wrist.

  “Where’s the mark of Crolos?” She squinted her eyes, straining to see in the dark of the barn. “The Jura wear the mark despite there only being one official god, now.”

  “Here.” Fabian drew a box of matches from the bag he’d brought from the house, scratched one against the rough stone wall and then scooted up beside her.

  Didn’t matter how much light they had, the men weren’t Jura. Both bore the mark of the fish.

  “This was a set-up. By someone who knew I was hiding something.”

  “Hal?”

  “He’s usually a bit more subtle, but who else could it be? Damn, if he’s shared his suspicions with Warrington, we are in deep shit.”

  “An opportunist like Hal would not squander that knowledge until he’d gauged his own advantage. I should thank him for this.”

  “Thank him? Why? Do you realise what kind of hold this gives him? Over us, over me?”

  “I would thank him because he’s given me a reason to act.” Fabian rose from his crouch, unconcerned there may yet be raiders lurking in the yard. “I was becoming too comfortable here. Too soft. This is the signal for me to begin my glorious return home.”

  Standing before her, naked to the waist, looking as if hewn from stone, she felt the chasm between them grow wider. Whatever comradeship they’d shared paled to nothing compared to his wish to return home and step back into the life he’d known.

  Didn’t he care that Hal would extract a price from this? Why should he? Oh, it might trouble his conscience some, but not enough to stop him.

  “You knew I would one day be leaving. I’ve always made that clear, have I not?”

  “You have.”