Rogue Warriors 2

by Sam Barone

  “If we’re right, they’ll cross to this side of the river here, either late today or first thing in the morning,” Bracca said.

  “Tonight.” Eskkar felt certain of his words. “There won’t be many places worth looting on that side of the river, not so close to Yarmo. Probably all they hit in this last raid was a few isolated farms, maybe another small village like the one where we lost our horses.”

  “Then the bandits will be anxious to get back on the west bank. They can rest for the night, and ride into Yarmo in the morning. By sundown they’ll have sold all their loot. After that, they’ll split up and go their separate ways.”

  “So now it all depends on the warriors,” Eskkar said. “If they decide to ride on once they cross, our plan gets a lot easier.”

  “If they leave the bandits behind,” Bracca agreed, “then we’ll steal a few horses and run for it. Nobody will bother to chase after us, not with the pleasures of Yarmo nearby and calling to them.”

  The two companions had considered all the possibilities they could imagine during their long run up river, and over last night’s camp. The worst case for them, but probably the most likely, would be if everyone camped together for the night. Eskkar felt certain that the warriors would have no reason to fear treachery from the bandits. Even against fifteen or twenty men, the barbarians would feel confident they could kill any and all of the dirt eaters. While probably not true, the steppes warriors would likely kill half of them before they went down.

  Bracca had lifted his eyebrows when he heard that, but hadn’t challenged it. Eskkar was, after all, the expert on barbarians.

  “Time to get moving again.” Eskkar pushed himself to his feet. “They’ll probably make camp against those hills north of us. We’d better get there first and see what the land is like.”

  About a mile away, a wide patch of green stood out against the brown rolling hills. After the bandits crossed the river, they would want to make camp and settle in for the night before sundown. Likely they would prefer to stay as far away from Yarmo as possible.

  The two companions covered the distance at the same loping pace they had used for the last two days.

  “This place looks like the perfect place to camp,” Bracca said, as soon as he caught his breath. “Water, grass, even firewood. No doubt every traveler within fifty miles knows about this campsite.”

  Water, probably from an underground stream that branched out from the river, had seeped to the surface and formed a pool, surrounded on two sides by willows and date palms. The horses would just fit into a corner formed by two hills, only a few paces from the water. The men would make camp between the stream and the herd. Bracca was right. No travelers, no matter how eager to get to Yarmo, would be likely to pass up such a natural encampment.

  “It makes for a perfect place to spend the night, and it will be even better for us.” Eskkar eyes scanned the surroundings. “No more than two or three sentries. One up there, on top of the hill. Maybe another one over there, to guard the approach from the south.”

  “We should be able to creep up on them.” Bracca sounded confident enough.

  “The warriors will post their own sentry, to guard the horses, and he’ll take his position on the lower of the two hills, to be close to the herd. I don’t think either of us will be able to climb up and catch him by surprise.”

  Eskkar pointed to the second crest that butted against the lower one. “But if we hide ourselves on the higher hill, I don’t think we’ll be noticed.”

  “The other sentry should be over there, guarding the approach to the camp,” Bracca said, gesturing toward the other side of the water. “He’ll likely be one of the bandits. If I had to stand guard duty, I’d take a position near that rock, so I could sit down and be comfortable. We’ll have to take them both before we can get to the horses.”

  Eskkar turned to his friend. “Give me your tunic.”

  “What? What for?”

  Eskkar had already slipped out of his own garment. Using his knife, he cut the tunic into two parts. The top portion he tossed on the ground, then fastened the remainder of the cloth around his waist. “Hurry. They may arrive at any moment. Might even send a scout on ahead, to make sure everything is safe, and no one else is using the site.”

  “Damn you.” Bracca shrugged out of his garb. “I paid good coin for this tunic.”

  “It’s practically a rag.” Eskkar jerked the cloth from his friend’s hands and cut that garment up the same way. “You stay here. I’ll slip down to where the horses will be and leave these garments under the brush. That way the horses will catch the scent, and become accustomed to it.”

  “What if the bandits see them?”

  “Then they’ll think some previous traveler tossed some old and useless scraps of clothing into the brush. But I don’t think anyone will notice. The horses will go in first, and they’ll be between the bushes and the riders.”

  Eskkar led the way into the camp site. He scattered the remains of their tunics under the grass, not trying to hide them, but not leaving them out in the open either. The horses would graze there, and pick up the two companions’ scent. After positioning the rags, Eskkar gestured toward the hilltop.

  Together they climbed the taller hill. It wasn’t an easy ascent, but they wouldn’t be descending by the same path. The slope to the lower hill looked much easier.

  They found a good hiding place among the boulders and some isolated clumps of grass, and settled in. Eskkar glanced toward the east, at the setting sun already hovering near the horizon. Dusk would soon be upon them. He turned his gaze back toward the river.

  “Look! There’s a rider coming up from the south.” Eskkar studied the horseman, still more than a mile away. “Rides like a warrior.”

  They watched him approach, traveling at an easy pace. His head seemed in constant motion, turning from side to side, as he checked the landscape around him. Nor did he travel in a straight line. Instead he meandered back and forth across the path, searching the ground before him for any tracks.

  “Good eyes,” Eskkar muttered. “Knows how to scout the land.”

  “Suppose he sees our footprints?” Bracca’s voice held a hint of concern.

  “He’ll be looking for fresh horse tracks, not signs of men on foot,” Eskkar said. “Didn’t you notice that we followed the rocky ground when we approached?”

  “I thought you were trying to wear down my tender feet, friend Eskkar.”

  “I was. But we also didn’t leave much of a trail, friend Bracca.”

  “Well, if he spots us, we’ll be like rabbits in a cage.”

  “Too late to worry now,” Eskkar said. “Remember, all this was your idea, friend Bracca. Once the bandits arrive and make camp, we’ll see what we’re facing. If they are too alert, we’ll simply stay hidden up here. But if we can take down the sentries, it should be easy to stampede the horses. With a little luck, they’ll run through the camp. I’ll try to hold a horse for you, but if I can’t, you’ll just have to catch one as they go by.”

  Eskkar reached into his pouch and drew out the two halters he had carried wrapped around his waist for almost four days. “Try not to lose it,” he said, tossing one length to his companion.

  “If anything goes wrong, friend Eskkar, I’ll be caught in the open, and without a horse.” Nevertheless, Bracca picked up the halter and wound it around his waist.

  “Do you want to try and kill the warrior on the hill instead?”

  Bracca stared at the scout, tall and muscular, drawing ever closer. “No, I’ll let you kill the barbarian.”

  Eskkar grunted. He’d known Bracca wouldn’t care for that idea. Sneaking up on sleepy dirt eater sentry was one thing, but a steppes fighter guarding his clan’s horses was another.

  “We can’t be sure what will happen once the herd panics,” Eskkar said. “You never know for certain which way they’ll run. If nothing goes right, grab a horse and ride south. If we’re separated, we’ll join up where we met the sheph
erd.”

  For once Bracca had nothing else to say.

  Motionless, they watched the scout, a bow slung across his back, ride a complete circle around the campsite. Only then, after reassuring himself that no horses had trod the ground within the last few days, did he ride up to the trees and the little pond of water.

  Eskkar nodded in admiration as the warrior slid smoothly from his mount, which he then led to the water’s edge. Man and beast drank deeply from the pool, taking their time. When both had quenched their thirst, the man led the animal over to the trees, and secured his mount to one. Then he turned and started climbing the hill.

  “Suppose he comes up here?” Bracca’s voice was a whisper.

  Eskkar leaned over until his mouth was close to his companion’s ear. “Then we’ll have to rush him and hope one of us can get close enough to kill him before he gets his bow in play. Now keep your head down and remain silent. Remember, the horse has ears, too. I’ll watch for both of us.”

  They settled deeper into the rocks. The warrior halted his climb on the crest of the lower hill, about thirty-five paces away. As Eskkar expected, the man didn’t bother climbing the second part of the hill. The vantage point he’d chosen gave him more than enough height. He sat with his back against a boulder, staring along the trail that he’d followed in.

  The sun dropped lower, until it touched the horizon. Eskkar remained completely still, his head buried in the grass, barely able to glimpse the man below. Bracca, an arm’s length behind, peered between some rocks at the path leading from the river. Suddenly the warrior turned his head, and Eskkar shifted his own gaze to the south.

  A long line of mounted men, many of them leading pack animals, had ridden into view. Eskkar had to wait until they’d almost reached the camp before he got a full count. Twenty-seven men, fourteen pack horses, and another eleven horses roped together. Those numbers surprised Eskkar. He hadn’t thought the dirt eaters possessed so many animals.

  The bandit leading the column halted a hundred paces from the watering hole. The scout rose to his feet in a smooth motion, and waved his left arm. The leader called something to those behind him, and the column resumed the journey. At the same time, the warrior abandoned his position, and descended the hill.

  “The scout is going down, Bracca.” Eskkar kept his voice low. “I count four more steppes warriors, plus the scout.” Eskkar experienced a moment of satisfaction as he remembered killing the bowman in the tavern. That meant one less dangerous opponent now.

  His friend took his time studying the men as they rode in, jumping down from their horses, their excited voices rising up, and everyone talking at once.

  “By Ishtar, they’ve brought some women with them,” Eskkar said. “Must have captured them in the last few days. Otherwise they would have slowed them down.”

  Four women rode on two horses, clinging to each other and to the horses’ manes as the animals were led into the center of the camp. The bandit leader moved toward them, and spoke to one of his men. The underling nodded, and one by one, pulled the women from the horses, laughing as he did so. Three slumped to the ground, all resistance gone. The fourth, her shift already ripped away from one of her shoulders, struggled against her captor. She kicked at him, but with her feet bare, accomplished nothing more than angering the man. He grabbed her long brown hair and yanked her off the horse. Laughing, he ignored her flailing arms and threw her to the earth. Gesturing with his finger, he said something to the women, then strode off to speak to the leader of the band.

  “Probably haven’t been raped yet,” Bracca said. “There wouldn’t be any fight left in them if the men had already taken a few turns.

  “They’re in for a long night,” Eskkar said. “They have a lot of men to satisfy.”

  “Forget the women. Look at all those pack animals!” Bracca couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “Can you imagine how much gold they’re carrying?”

  “The bandits don’t seem to have many sacks on their mounts,” Eskkar said. “All the loot must be on the pack horses, to be distributed by the leader. I’d guess most of those pack animals will go to the warriors as well. They’ll likely start dividing the goods right after they set up camp and eat.”

  “No, I think not,” Bracca said. “Why start trouble tonight? No matter how you divide the spoils, some thick-headed oaf will complain he’s receiving less than he deserves. If their leader has his wits about him, he divvies up the plunder in the morning. Then he and his picked men can just ride away, and leave the others behind him, still arguing about the size of their shares.”

  Eskkar decided Bracca was probably right. “Well, the loot means nothing to us. We’ll have to wait it out, and see what they do tonight. We can’t try anything until the middle of the night.”

  It didn’t take long before he and Bracca found out about the contents of some of the sacks. Not all the pack animals carried loot. Two horses carried wine skins, and these were soon being passed around. Camp fires were lit, and before long smoke trails wafted on the warm evening air. The bandits had not bothered to hunt any game, so each man ate whatever he had stashed in his pouch.

  “I’ll wager that none of them has drunk any spirits for days. That will make the wine even more powerful,” Bracca remarked. “Look, even the barbarians are drinking.”

  Eskkar wondered about that. “These warriors, they must be outcasts, cursed by their clan. Otherwise they would never take wine in the company of dirt eaters.”

  “From what I’ve seen, the bandit leader isn’t drinking much. He’s had a few swallows, but he and his guards must be planning to stay sober.”

  The man commanding the raiders, a broad-shouldered man with a dark beard, had two brawny guards who stayed constantly at their leader’s side. Under the leader’s direction, all the captured spoils were gathered in the center of the camp, beside his blanket. Another two men took guard positions over the loot. Obviously the bandit chief didn’t intend to let his men near the fruits of their raiding until tomorrow.

  Nor, apparently, did he intend to share the women. The four now huddled against the captured goods, looking miserable even from the hilltop.

  Eskkar wondered about that. “Is he keeping all the women for himself? A good leader would take one and give the rest to his men.”

  “No, he probably intends to sell them as slaves in Yarmo. He knows they’ll fetch a better price if they’re not battered and bruised.”

  “Better for us if he takes the four of them himself,” Eskkar muttered. “He’ll sleep all the sounder.”

  With so much gold in sight, Bracca had no interest in the women. “He’ll have at least one of his men awake and guarding the spoils throughout the night. That might change everything.”

  “One guard, probably a warrior, up here on the hill, directly over the horse herd.” Eskkar, too, ignored the women as he let his mind continue to work out the situation. “Another to guard the sacks of gold, and one to watch the trail to the south. So at least three guards, with a change around midnight. If there are any more, I don’t think we’ll get away with it.”

  “Your plan to slip in among the horses and stampede them might not work then,” Bracca said.

  Eskkar nodded, though in the deepening darkness his friend didn’t notice. “Don’t give up yet. But there may be another way, Bracca. Let me think about it.”

  Below the two observers, the bandits continued their celebration long into the night. The wine skins were soon drained and tossed aside. Even so, many of the bandits remained squatting close to the camp fires, boasting of their deeds and what they would do with their share of the gold. Words and phrases floated up even to top of the hill. More than a few of the brigands staggered about, already feeling the effects of too much wine.

  Finally the weary crowd began to settle down for the night. The last of the wine skins lay empty, and the revelries finally ended. Soon afterward, the loud talking gradually ceased. One by one, the bandits spread their blankets and collapsed
to the ground. Now the sounds of snoring competed with the voices of those few yet awake and gossiping among themselves.

  “Look!” Bracca’s whisper showed his excitement. One of the warriors had started the ascent up the slope. “The sentry is coming. Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to climb up here for a look around.”

  “He won’t.” Eskkar’s voice held more confidence than he felt. If the man did, they’d be discovered. Even if they killed him, Bracca and he wouldn’t get off the hill alive.

  However the steppes warrior, not the one who earlier had scouted the watering hole, took up his position on the lower hill, leaning against the same rock that the advance scout had selected. This man carried a bow and quiver of arrows in his left hand, and he set these down on the ground beside him. After one careful look around, he unsheathed his sword, and thrust that into the earth, ready to his hand. The warrior’s position placed him almost directly above the horse herd. Beneath him, and close to the horses, his warrior companions prepared their own sleeping ground, at least twenty-five or thirty paces away from the nearest dirt eaters.

  Another bandit stumbled his way to the opposite end of the camp, to watch the southern trail. Soon only the third guard, this one safeguarding the captured loot, remained awake in the center of the camp.

  The barbarian sentry, however, had given Eskkar an idea. Once again he moved his mouth close to Bracca’s ear, and whispered. It took some time, but at last Bracca nodded, and the two men began their long vigil.

  Eskkar stretched out on the grass, on his stomach, and closed his eyes. A man resting on his stomach is much less likely to fall asleep and start snoring, or at least not as loudly. Bracca would take the first watch, his hand ready to shake Eskkar into silence if he made the slightest noise.

  The two men took turns dozing. They would need all their strength when the moment came, and every bit of rest would help. Eskkar intended to launch their attack during what would be the middle of the first watch, when the bandits would be in their deepest slumber, tired from a long day’s ride and with many still numbed by the wine they’d consumed.