“Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Jackson?”
“I recognize this company. They’re the Grey Talon, up from Landreth.”
“Landreth?” asked William. “Valemen.”
Jackson nodded. “Tough bastards. Last I heard they were fighting down in the Vale for a trading concern against Keshian raiders. They sometimes come up to Krondor to spend their gold, but usually we don’t see them this far north.”
William pondered the significance of this. “They must have been in Krondor when Bear was there, and Bear’s agent must have gotten word to them to head north.”
“Something like that,” agreed Jackson.
“Which means Bear doesn’t have many of his original crew left.”
“Fair guess,” agreed Jackson. “But these lads will not cry quarter unless they’re seriously beaten. I know that from their reputation.”
“Still, it means they won’t have any personal loyalty to that monster. If we can capture . . .” He turned and signaled for Sergeant Hartag. “What’s the lie of the land? On foot or horse?”
“Foot, I think, Lieutenant. Too noisy getting the horses in place in the evening, and if we get close before we spring the attack, we have a better chance of taking charge of the fray.”
“On foot, then,” agreed William. “Take half the men and go with Jackson. Picket the horses and get as close to the other side of their camp as you can. Deploy your archers to one side. They’ll signal when they’re ready. We’ll need their covering fire to make sure that none of these ruffians escape. If you get into trouble, lead them toward the trees, then disengage and let the archers cut them down.
“Wait until you hear us attack from this side of the trail and then go in fast and hard. But remember -I want at least one of them taken alive.” To Jackson he added, “Go now, tell Marie to meet me at the trail, then get these men into place.”
The Pathfinder nodded, mounted his horse, and rode off. In moments the sergeant had all the men mounted, and the company divided into two squads, and he led the first up the trail to rendezvous with the Pathfinders. William waited until they were well along the trail, then gave the order for his own squad to follow.
Riding into the gloom of the woodlands, William could feel his anticipation mounting. Soon he would know where Bear was hiding, and then he would face him.
The men waited for the signal. William had inspected the enemy camp and was forced to admit that the men he faced were seasoned professionals. There were about thirty of them, and while they had elected to sleep on the ground, they had still picked the most defensible site in the clearing, atop a small hillock, with clear lines of sight in all directions. The good news was that they hadn’t bothered making any sort of defenses. Even a rude earthen berm fortified with cut stakes would have proven a hindrance for William’s men. These men were obviously in a hurry, making camp just before nightfall, probably planning on breaking camp at first light. They would set sentries, and those would be vigilant.
William waited until the sun had set low enough past the distant hills to throw the entire landscape into a chiaroscuro of dark gray and black. He devised a plan and relayed his orders to his archers. Five of the dozen men with him would hang back.
. William motioned with his sword, and walked out into the clearing, seven men walking easily alongside him. He had covered a dozen yards when a voice called out from the camp. “Who goes there?”
“Hello, the camp!” William shouted, continuing to walk casually. “I seek the Grey Talon company.”
“Well, you’ve found them,” came the response. “Come no closer!”
William stopped. “I bring a message for Bear.” The agreed-upon signal to the archers was the word “Bear.”
As the sentry was about to answer, five arrows shot overhead and William shouted, “Now!”
The archers had picked their targets well, and before they realized they were under siege, five of the mercenaries were down. More arrows flew from the other side, and William realized Sergeant Hartag had his own bowmen ready.
From both sides of the camp, soldiers of the Kingdom appeared, while the Grey Talon mercenaries grabbed their weapons and made ready to answer the attack. William charged the nearest sentry, who raised his shield to take the blow from William’s large hand-and-a-half sword. William started to swing downward, then turned the blade in an elliptical swing that brought the huge blade crashing into the side of the shield, knocking it aside, and turning the soldier so he couldn’t return the blow, since his sword-arm was now away from William. As the sentry turned to strike, William swept his blade downward from the shield, slashing the back of the man’s leg, hamstringing him. The man went down with a cry and William kicked him over with his left leg. The mercenary wasn’t dead, but he wouldn’t be fighting. William wanted prisoners. William wanted to know where he could find Bear.
William’s men had the advantage of surprise, but the Grey Talon mercenaries were a hard and experienced bunch. The struggle was bloody and only the fact that a half-dozen mercenaries had gone down early enabled William’s men to carry the day. After William’s third kill, he glanced around, expecting to see mercenaries asking for quarter, but he was surprised to find they were still fighting, even though there were now two of the Prince’s soldiers facing each mercenary.
“Keep at least one alive!” William shouted, even as he remembered the man he had hamstrung, lying somewhere on the ground in the midst of the carnage. He turned to see how his own command was doing. The archers had put up their bows, drawn their swords, and were now entering the fray. The mercenaries continued to resist and several of William’s men were down, either dead or seriously wounded. “End this!” William shouted to a retreating mercenary who was desperately attempting to keep two Krondorian soldiers at bay.
The man ignored William and kept looking for an opening. William swore in disgust as another mercenary was killed. He circled around behind one of the last remaining mercenaries, and struck him from behind across the helmet with the flat of his blade. “Don’t kill him!” he shouted to the two men who were about to run him through. The man staggered, and one of William’s soldiers leapt forward, grappling with the mercenary’s sword-arm. The other stepped inside and struck the mercenary hard across the face with the hilt of his sword, stunning the man.
Then it was over. William looked around and shouted, “Sergeant!”
Hartag hurried over and said, “Sir!”
“What’s the damage?”
“Six men down, sir. Three dead, two more likely to join them, one who might survive if we get him to a healer quickly. Several others wounded, but nothing to brag about.”
“Damn,” muttered William. That left him with eighteen men, not all of them fully able. “What about the mercenaries?”
“Damnable thing, sir. They wouldn’t ask for quarter. Fought to the death. Never knew mercenaries to do that. Usually they’re smart enough to know when they’re whipped.”
“How many alive?”
“Two,” answered Hartag. “One’s bleeding to death from a deep leg wound and won’t be with us much longer.” William nodded, realizing this must be the man he’d hamstrung. Hartag continued. “The other’s that fellow you banged across the head. He should be rousing soon.”
The mercenary came around after a few minutes and William had him dragged over. “Who are you? Are you one of Bear’s men?”
“Not anymore. Name’s Shane McKinzey. Currently - ” He glanced around. “Used to be with the Grey Talons. We was contacted by Bear’s agent so we came to join up. We met with this Bear, and he told us what to do.”
“Why the fight to the death?” asked Hartag.
“Orders.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Seems our captain” - he motioned toward a corpse being dragged to a makeshift funeral pyre - “he got the word that Bear had some sort of magical powers. Said he’d hunt down and eat the soul of any man who betrayed him.” He blinked, as if trying to clear his vision. “Man, I’ve
been hit before, but nothing like that.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Capt’n, he says a clean death and fast ride to Lims-Kragma’s Hall is better than bein‘ sucked dry of blood and havin’ your soul captured by some hell’s spawn.”
“Why were you camped here?”
“We was left to kill anyone following him. This was our first job for him. Looks like it’ll be our last.”
“Where’s Bear now?”
“Don’t know. We were supposed to camp here and kill anyone coming this way, then meet him on the morning of the new Small Moon, at Two Fangs Pass.”
Hartag said, “You’re lying.”
“Maybe, but since you’ll have to kill me anyway to keep me from warning Bear . . . why should I be honest?”
“Since we’ll kill you anyway,” said William, “maybe you ought to come clean and help us get the man who set you up.
Shane looked at William, and said, “I’ve been a mercenary for more years than you’ve carried a sword, boy. I don’t fear dying, but I can see you’re afraid of killin‘ in cold blood.”
William pointed to where his men piled the dead. “Take a look at the rest of your men and tell me again that I’m afraid. Still, you could live if you’re honest. You’ve never worked for Bear before, right?”
“What of it?”
“Then you don’t need to share in Bear’s punishment. Tell us what we want to know and my men will escort you back to Krondor. From there you can take a ship to wherever you like. I suggest back down to the Vale.”
The mercenary rubbed the back of his head as he weighed his options. “Well, I guess I’ve not much of a company left. All right, you’ve got a deal. I was lying about the killing-anyone-who-followed part. We were supposed to make it look easy to attack us — damn we did make it too easy — bleed a little, then run like hell. Bear’s setting a trap for you at Two Fangs Pass. We were supposed to lead you to it. If you hurry, you can beat him there.”
“You made the smart choice. Thanks.” William beckoned to a nearby soldier. “You and Blake take Mr. McKinzey here back to Krondor with anyone else who’s too badly wounded to go any further.”
“Yes, sir!” came the answer.
Hartag spoke softly. “You think he’s telling the truth this time, Will?”
“Yes. He’s got no reason to lie, and getting as far from Bear as he can is obviously his best choice.” William’s eyes seemed to light up as he continued, “We have him. Get the men ready to ride. We’re pushing through this night, and the next if need be, and we’ll get to Two Fang Pass before Bear.”
“Sir!” said Hartag, and he turned to carry out his orders.
TEN
Goblins
James awoke. Something was wrong.
He leapt to his feet and kicked at the foot of Kendaric’s bed. The guildsman sat up with a sleepy expression and mumbled, “What?”
“I smell smoke.”
James hurried to the next room, where Jazhara and the monk were sleeping, and pounded on the door. The hall was already blue with smoky haze and the acrid smell of burning wood stung his eyes. “Get up!” he shouted. “The inn’s on fire!”
Doors up and down the hall flew open as the handful of other guests looked out to see what the fuss was about. James repeated his warning as he buckled on his sword and grabbed his travel pack. Jazhara and Solon appeared a moment later and hurried after him and the others down the stairs.
In the common room, it was obvious that the fire had been started near the front door, for now the entire wall around the exit was engulfed in flames. “The kitchen!” James shouted. He hurried through the door behind the taproom bar and saw Goodman Royos and a young woman drawing buckets of water. “Stay calm!” shouted the innkeeper.
James grabbed the man by his shirt. “Don’t even try. You’ll never put that fire out with buckets of water. Get out while you can!”
The man hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He ushered the girl out of the kitchen into the backyard as the last of the guests fled through the rear door.
Screams alerted James to the fact that something even direr than a fire was at hand.
He and Solon had their weapons at the ready when they emerged from the rear of the building, only to discover a band of goblins trying to untie the horses from their picket line beneath the run-in shed.
James counted quickly: there were a dozen of the creatures nearby. The goblins stood shorter than men, and were smaller across the shoulders, but not by much. Sloping foreheads terminated in heavy brows of thick black hair. The black irises of their yellow eyes caught the firelight, seeming to glow in the darkness. James had fought goblins before and realized at once that this must be an experienced raiding party. Three of the warriors wore tribal topknots complete with feathers or bones in their hair, signifying that they were chieftains or priests. They all carried bucklers and swords, and James was only thankful that they didn’t appear to have archers with them.
There were three other armed men emerging from the inn, so including Solon, himself, and a few of the guests, James counted eleven warriors. Jazhara could handle herself, he knew, so he shouted to Royos, “Get the girl behind us!”
The goblins charged, and Jazhara unleashed a ball of fire at the center of the group. It struck square on. Flames immediately consumed three goblins, while another three off to one side were badly burned.
The remaining six goblins came forward at a howling run, swinging furiously. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Solon wield his heavy warhammer deftly, caving in the skull of one goblin before the creature could dodge away.
One more down, five to go, thought James.
Kendaric came into James’s view awkwardly waving a short blade, and suddenly James realized that the journeyman had no skills whatsoever to defend himself. James leapt to one side and kicked at the goblin who had overrun his position, sending the creature sprawling. He then leapt to his right, and with a spinning blow, cut at the goblin who menaced Kendaric, slashing him across the back of the neck.
The panic-stricken wrecker stared at James with wide-eyed terror. James yelled, “Get over there by Royos!”
Kendaric seemed unable to move, and James barely avoided being struck by a sword-blow from behind. He only sensed the attack at the last second and ducked to his left. Had he ducked to his right, he thought, he’d have been a head shorter.
James spun and saw that he had been attacked by one of the burned goblins. This one’s entire right side was still smoking, his eye swollen shut, so James immediately moved to his own left, attacking the goblin’s blind side.
Jazhara unleashed another spell, a searing red beam that struck the face of one of the goblins approaching Kendaric. The creature screamed, dropped his sword and clawed at his eyes. The other turned toward the source of the attack, and hesitated.
Kendaric used the distraction to turn and flee, leaving the goblin isolated. Brother Solon and another man from the inn appeared in Kendaric’s place and both attacked the goblin at the same instant. The goblin saw Solon’s huge warhammer coming at him and dodged, while the other man attempted to strike out with his sword. The two attacks confounded each other, and the goblin turned and fled.
Suddenly the remaining goblins were all running for their lives. James gave a half-hearted lunge at one who managed to elude his sword-point, then stood up and surveyed the damage.
The inn was now completely in flames, and Royos and the young woman were watching it, holding onto one another. The stable-boy stood near the horses, his eyes wide with fear.
A half-dozen goblins lay on the ground.
James shook his head. “What brings goblins so close to the coast?” he wondered aloud.
Brother Solon came to stand beside James. “Goblins tend to be a stupid lot, but not stupid enough to raid for horses unless they’ve a camp nearby.”
The young girl approached and said, “Farmer Toth’s wife rode through on her way to Krondor, sir, looking for soldiers to come save her baby girl.”
/> “Maria!” exclaimed Goodman Royos. “You weren’t supposed to hear of such things.”
“Father,” the girl replied, “do you think you can shield me from every trouble in the world?” She turned to look at the burning inn. “Is my home not destroyed before my eyes?”
The innkeeper put his arms around her shoulders. “I forget that you are growing up, daughter.”
The other guests, two men with swords, and another with a large hunting knife, as well as two women gathered around. Royos said, “My thanks for all that you did in driving off the goblins.”
James nodded. “I wish we could have done more.”
“You saved lives,” said Royos. “Inns can be rebuilt. Customers are much harder to come by.” He kissed the top of Maria’s head. “As are daughters.” Royos and Maria turned back toward the inn, to arrange a bucket brigade to douse the remaining flames.
“Aye,” said Solon. “They were a’waitin‘ for us to come out so they could butcher us.”
James scratched at his ear. “Why such a blatant raid? They have to know there’ll be a patrol up in the hills after them soon . . .”
Jazhara said, “To draw a patrol away from somewhere else?”
James looked at the young magician and motioned for her to walk with him. When they were out of earshot of the others, he asked, “Bear?”
“Perhaps. It would certainly suit his cause if soldiers were not near Widow’s Point and Haldon Head when he attempted to claim the Tear of the Gods.”
James said, “If we knew how he planned on getting to the Tear, then we’d have a better notion of where he is likely to be.”
“Were I this Bear, and failing to gain Kendaric’s spell, I would wait for Kendaric to appear and capture him.”
“Or wait for us to do the work, then take the Tear from us once we’re back on dry ground.”
“Either way, I would allow Kendaric to reach Widow’s Point,” finished Jazhara.
James said, “I don’t wish to wait, but I’m reluctant to attempt this without the reserves down in Miller’s Rest.” He glanced over to where the others waited, and called out, “Brother Solon! You seem to have some knowledge of goblins. How large a camp do you judge they’d have nearby?”
Krondor Tear of the Gods Page 18
