Keltos opened his eyes, blinking away a tear that clung to the lashes. Perplexing, how the act of sitting down in a remote inn somewhere could start this thing, could bring to life the wound that festered within him.
Arco tapped him on the shoulder. “You going to eat, Kel, or sleep sitting up?”
There was a veritable feast before him, spread the length of the table, and the men around him had fallen to with relish. Great platters of fresh bread and skewers of sizzling meat streamed from the kitchen. Famished from the long march and dazed by the cheer and hospitality before him, Keltos ate like a starving man and found that it all tasted and felt even better than he’d imagined.
Brannon, the proprietor, came out from the kitchen once dinner had gotten well under way, and many of the locals rose to greet him and show respect. His wife Haila joined him a few minutes later, a honey-haired woman with a graceful face and quiet voice, and bid the captains and their men to rest easy within the walls of the place.
In truth, the Tooth and Blade was nothing short of a marvel, this deep in the frontier country, Keltos thought. The governor’s port city had nothing this grand, not for those without stores of wealth at least. He vowed that this wouldn’t be the last time he ate here, no matter what became of the company and its fortunes.
Keltos and Makos, along with Somber Dom and little Arco, shared a table close enough to the captains’ private table that snatches of conversation could be overheard. Damicos was tearing a roasted fowl in half and biting deep, making a display of savoring the buttery herbed meat.
“By the gods, Meldus, if anything you undersold this place to us. It’s a miracle. A richer country I never saw, even in Kerath.”
Vacius, a portly man with short-cropped beard and a spotless woolen vest over his rough green shirt, smiled proudly. “We are blessed by the gods. Enjoy your time here as welcome guests, Captains.”
“And yet,” Pelekarr observed, “I can’t help but notice that not all your townsmen are so glad to see us. Perhaps there is some resistance to our presence?”
“There are some that didn’t like the idea of sending for help,” Vacius admitted. “Even some at this table, truth be told.” He spoke evenly, and it was difficult to tell if he had been—or was still—one of those who felt disconcerted by the arrival of mercenaries in the town.
Brannon, the inn-keeper, spoke up. “But we made our decision, didn’t we? And we’ll stick with it.”
Vacius nodded. “We do need the help in the attack we’re planning, and there’s no other way that doesn’t require a terrible price in blood.”
Pelekarr swirled his goblet as he eyed Ireth, seated across from him. She had not eaten yet, and kept looking down the line at the soldiers as they feasted, keeping her hands folded in her lap and sitting straight.
“Madam, would I be correct if I judged you one of those opposed to our hire?”
Ireth met the captain’s gaze squarely. “You would, Captain.” She sighed. “The certain risk is not worth the possible gain, in my view. But here we are.”
“You fear we may turn on you at some point, and become outlaws ourselves?”
“I don’t doubt your utility in our upcoming fight. But it’s inevitable that a band of mercenaries will overstay its welcome at some point. Or do any of us really expect you all to walk away from here after a week or a month or a season, and never seek occasion to return, to take more and more of what you find here?”
Meldus scowled, and Argaf hissed at the woman. “Ireth, guard your tone! For the love of Dura, do what you must. You said you would.”
Pelekarr held up a hand. “I pushed her into these words, and she is right to be wary. Had I such a prized land, I would be as jealous.” He turned back to Ireth. “Your caution does you credit, madam, but I give you my word as an officer that Damicos and I have control of our men, and we will take nothing from your people that they do not freely offer us.”
Ireth nodded, courteously cool, and kept her silence. But Misca spoke loudly at her elbow. “Ireth’s problem is she has no husband. A maiden, at her age! Why, she’d be less prickly with a man to—”
“To business, Captains,” Meldus interrupted, chuckling at the discomfort the old woman instantly fomented in those around her, especially the other woman. “Let us talk of tomorrow’s actions.”
“Yes. Where, exactly, are the outlaws laired?” Pelekarr quickly asked.
“Further to the west, in the forest. We can reach them in another half-day’s march.”
“And if this Black Tur decides to move?”
“He won’t. His lair is a strong one, and no other place could he hold as well. Also, we’ve made no show of defiance yet, so he thinks us meek and frightened.”
Misca shook her white head. “But we’re not.”
“Decidedly not,” Meldus agreed. “It was an ill day that Black Tur thought of this scheme. His fate was sealed the moment he took our people.”
Damicos cleared his throat and set down his own goblet. “Unfortunately, some of the churls that followed Meldus into Belsoria and attacked him there escaped. They may even now be reporting to their outlaw chief. So we cannot count on such surprise as you had hoped to spring on the enemy.”
There was a mutter of dismay at that, and some of the citizens nearby paled visibly at the prospect of attacking a hardened, ready force with time to prepare against the assault.
“But you have us, remember,” Pelekarr announced. “You’d never have marched cavalry into the bandits’ hideout without alerting them anyway. Trust in the strength of armored troopers now.”
Tamero, the older man with the gray hair, swallowed hard. “We must, I suppose. But it is risky. The outlaw’s camp is difficult to approach.”
Ireth’s eyes flashed. “There is risk no matter what we do, Tamero! There was risk in waiting for help, and yet we’ve waited, holding our breath. Now the troops you sought are here, and you balk at the prospect of battle yet again!”
Misca patted the woman on the shoulder. “Her sister’s among those taken,” she loudly explained to the captains. “Had to restrain her from running out there the day it happened and attacking with naught but a cudgel!”
Ireth folded her arms and glowered at Damicos. “Even with your help we might fail. It’s not Black Tur’s head we want, it’s our people safely returned to us. Can you guarantee that outcome?”
“Perhaps not, madam, but our hope is to sweep the field and eliminate these marauders entirely, leaving none to molest—”
“What care we for a field of dead outlaws if our own loved ones are slaughtered before we can fight our way to them?” Ireth grated. “If we’d rushed them the moment it happened, we might have regained the girls and gotten away—”
“That’s a fantasy, Ireth,” Tamero complained. “You’re not being realistic. You’d have added more lives to those we’ve lost already.”
“None are lost!” Ireth spat, nearly shouting. The hall had fallen silent but for the argument now taking place among the elders. “They yet live, and if you don’t believe it then keep quiet while those of us who do take action to bring them back!” She shook her head, looking down and biting her lip. “If this is all for naught, if we lose them and suffer retaliation on top of paying for these soldiers to quarter with us…”
She didn’t finish, but it left a somber spirit in the air, and few continued eating.
Meldus pursed his lips and turned his palm up at the captains. “You see the toll this has taken on us. We face the fight of our lives tomorrow, with or without you.”
“Then we must prevail,” Pelekarr answered. “That is all there is to it. We will sacrifice to Telion at dawn and ask for his blessing.”
“And then we’ll go and tear down this outlaw camp and everything in it,” Damicos added. “Show them that whatever strength they’ve got, it isn’t enough to cow the people of Dura. Not with spear and saber at their side!”
CHAPTER 13: AGAINST A CUNNING FOE
The march westward
from Dura was quiet, for practical reasons and because there was a tension in the company now. The exact number of outlaws they faced was unknown, but it was thought to be at least that of the soldiers marching on it, combined with the Duran men and women who meant to fight and kill. It could easily be a bit more, if Nolus wasn’t the only recruit to join the band out of the Kerathi deserters.
And there was no backup to be expected in this operation. It had the potential of shaping up to be the first major clash of arms most in the company had participated in. They’d drilled, they’d been stationed here and there on stand-by to prevent hostilities from breaking out. Some had hunted down beasts from the wilds, and a handful had fought skirmishes along the north line where ugliness had broken out between factions of miners and lumbermen the year before. Only four men in the company had been in Ostora long enough to have seen large-scale battle.
Men would die that day. It was a certain thing. And although they were soldiers, though they had ways of dealing with this fact, still it quieted the men. It led them into a focused state of putting one foot carefully in front of the other, keeping their gear ready and well-adjusted, and keeping their talk aimed at the task at hand.
The day was sultry compared to their earlier march, with humidity hanging in and around the increasingly thick tree growth which presaged another rain. Far in the west, dark clouds slowly gathered, but it was sunny on the road and the men slowed whenever they came to a patch of shade.
Leaving Dura through the narrow gorge at its southern edge, they had pushed due west from the hill country into the woodlands beyond. Now they left the road entirely and struck out through denser patches of trees, tall stands of pine and maple, following a trio of Duran scouts that knew the way. The shade in the forest felt good, but the marching was harder and slower.
With the company marched half the men of Dura and a fair number of women as well, those that were hardier, had kinfolk to rescue, or who had come from a military life themselves at some point. Some were old, some young, but all had a determined set to their faces. These were led by Meldus, Argaf, and Ireth. Tamero and Vacius had remained behind in Dura with the rest of the citizenry, nervously preparing against a possible incursion if the campaign was a disaster and the outlaws retaliated.
The Durans nearly all carried bows, with perhaps a dagger or a small ax. Only a few had old short swords, and none carried shields like the soldiers had. The infantry had shared out extra spears among them, though some of the weaker civilians were too slight of frame to make effective use of the long pole weapons. Ireth had traded hers for one of the smaller cavalry lances that Pelekarr’s men kept, and carried it propped up on her shoulder.
“Your bows will undoubtedly come in handy,” Damicos told Meldus. “I doubt we can get you all to fire volleys, but picking off the enemy as my men advance will keep them down and get us in close range much quicker. At what range would you say your people can hit their targets effectively?”
“Oh, a hundred paces I should think. These are hunting arrows,” Meldus pointed out, “and we usually stalk close to take our game. But our bows are strong and the bandits will have little or no armor. I think we’ll drill holes in their bodies as easily as any mountain stag.”
The ground began to rise in uneven, rocky ridges as they marched onward through the afternoon. As the sun drooped toward the lowering sky, they came within sight of the terrain they were to attack.
Black Tur had chosen his location well. The outlaw camp sat atop a high bluff next to a steep semicircular ravine, at the bottom of which flowed a quiet stream. With their rear and sides thus secure, they had only to worry about the south. Here the ground rose gradually in a long upward slope to the crest of the bluff. The area was heavily timbered, but the undergrowth had been cleared away, and approach was impossible without being seen far off.
Although a stealthy approach to the bluff wasn’t likely to be successful with an armored cavalry unit, still the captains didn’t want to alert the outlaws any earlier than necessary, so they wound their way through the woods making sure that tall trees obscured their path from view of the bluff at all times. They ordered the men to keep their noise down, and the horses moved to the rear of the column.
After creeping forward and seeing for themselves, the leaders of the assault force gathered in a small dell north of the ravine, sheltered by lush fern growth. The challenge they confronted was a tricky one. The outlaws had indeed prepared their defenses.
Fallen trees and logs had been dragged into parallel positions at various points on the slope, forming obstacles the attackers would have to climb over or weave around them. It would lose them precious time, and they’d be slogging uphill in the teeth of arrows, slung stones, and javelins, buying ample time for the outlaws to react.
Pelekarr and Damicos, along with their sergeants, hunkered down next to Meldus, Ireth, Argaf, and the best hunter Dura had, a lanky man with muscular arms and dark green eyes named Ica Mistshaper.
“One good thing,” Ireth muttered. “They’re still here. We haven’t spooked them into running for it and leaving our sisters lying dead behind. But the rest is all bad.”
“Aye,” Argaf agreed. “I’m afraid this is too tough a nut to crack even for your men, Captains. The vile dog knows his business, and I cannot see a way to get up there without suffering catastrophic losses, likely including the hostages.”
“We’ve located their sentry posts,” Ica offered. “Two on the south, watching down the timbered slope. Two more on the rim of the ravine, watching the stream. There’s a little path trampled down on the ravine’s side, where they get down to draw water. That’s the only back way into the camp, but it’s barely wide enough for one man and their lookouts have it well covered.”
“Where are they?” Pelekarr asked. “Any outliers waiting in the trees?”
“No, ravine guards are just sitting on the rim behind protective boulders. The two on the south side have a nice position behind some big logs.” He spat and shook his head. “I don’t think they’ve noticed our approach yet, which speaks to their lack of discipline, the rat-bitten dogs. But we can’t get up there with anything but heavy losses. It’s all to the outlaw’s good, and to our bad.”
“It seems that speed is our only hope, then,” Ireth said. “We must move in so quickly that we’re into the camp before they can inflict serious casualties.”
“We’ll never move that quickly up the slope,” Pelekarr said. “Uphill, with traps and obstacles in our path. Perhaps we should wait until night, and move in slowly with the dark to cover us.”
Ireth grimaced. “Dark won’t stop their arrows impaling us. We should go now and rush their position.”
“She’s right,” the scout said. “We’ll be out in the open. The defenders can hide in the shadows, but we can’t. We have to keep moving across open ground. And the storm will hamper our mobility. If we’re going to do anything, we have to do it soon.”
“Wait.” Damicos put a hand on the shoulder of each arguer. “Wait. What about the ravine? A hand-picked, lightly-armed crew to make their way up and in from behind.”
“I told you, it’s covered,” the scout said. “They’d never make it.”
“They could if a heavy assault was getting all the attention at the front here. Let our infantry do what we do best, a frontal assault under fire. Rukhal take their puny arrows and slings, we have shields for that.” He grinned, showing his teeth. “A wall of bronze moving toward them on this slope will shock them into responding, focus all their efforts on this side. Once the noise and confusion of battle sets in, I guarantee these bandits won’t have the presence of mind to keep a careful watch on the ravine, not with enough men to stop us there.”
Ica rolled his head side to side, exposing a small wolfshead tattoo on his neck. “It’s a steep path, I tell you. It would take a few minutes to get up it, and they can’t help but spot us.”
“Spot us all they will, their shouts to reinforce the back will go unheeded if
my men are doing their job well enough here at the front. We’ll have them in awe, if not terror. And then when ten or twenty fast warriors start killing them from behind, they won’t know where to turn. We’ll crush them.”
Ireth nodded eagerly. “Yes, and the first ones in can hurry to secure the hostages!”
“Exactly. By the time they realize their desperate situation, it will be too late to threaten the hostages or to move their men around. We’ll swarm up the slope, drive them into the ravine, and the horsemen can be waiting there to finish those that flee.”
The planners each looked at each other. Meldus nodded. “I like it. It’s our best bet, and even if one part of the plan fails there are others that could still get into the camp and extract the hostages, if we fight valiantly.”
“Do we know where the hostages are kept?” Argaf asked.
“In one of the tents,” Ica replied. “Not sure which exactly.”
“We can assume they will be kept close to the center of the camp, I think,” Damicos said. “So the team that gets up the steep ravine must send some men to slay the defenders from behind, while a few go to locate the women and get them out safely.”
“Those men bear the greatest risk,” Meldus pointed out gravely. “They could easily become surrounded in there before the main body of infantry arrives, and be slaughtered along with the hostages before anything can be done.” He slowly smiled. “I volunteer to lead the attempt.”
“I’ll be there with you,” Ireth growled. She threw down her lance and slipped one wiry arm and shoulder free of the thick, restrictive tunic she wore. With better range of motion now, she quickly bound her shirt underneath with a sash and tucked a hunting knife in it to go with the two in the belt around her waist. “Swift and savage,” she muttered to herself, picking up one of the small javelins.
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