Just as Dwan was reaching for her door the alarm bells began clanging.
“Enemy in the walls!”
The shouts came from the portion of the defense wall that was almost directly above Dwan’s residence. Glaid’s face showed stark terror. The sounds of sword on sword and the screams of the dying were suddenly everywhere.
“Inside quickly,” Dwan told her apprentice.
Once inside she locked the door and ran to a heavy wardrobe. “Help me,” she called to Glaid as she tried to push the heavy piece of furniture across the floor and against the door. Glaid was no help. She was almost comatose with terror and stood in a corner of the room with her arms folded and shaking.
Dwan could hear the sounds of fighting growing nearer. She ran to the corner and snatched Glaid’s hand then dragged the terrified young woman over to the wardrobe. She flung open the door and wrapped both arms around a stack of folded linens. She threw them on a divan and took Glaid’s arm. The young healer allowed herself to be shoved into the space Dwan had just made.
“Stay in here no matter what you see or hear. Do you hear me Glaid?” The woman just stared blankly back at her. The sounds were coming closer outside her door. With no more time she closed the wardrobe door and locked it. She threw the key under one of her beds and ran to the other one. From beneath that bed she dragged a large black case. She snatched it up and flung it onto the bed. Around her neck was a chain of delicate gold braiding. She whipped it off of her neck and found the key that was always on it. The key opened the case.
Inside were three items. One was an elegant slim sword. Tag had given it to her on the day that he had rescued her from certain death at the hands of the Grey Ones. It was in an equally elegant metal sheath and was attached to a leather belt. Dwan quickly buckled it around her waist.
There was a bump at her door. Voices from outside called to others.
The other two items were a small curved knife and a set of metal forearm guards. She ignored the guards but took the time to buckle the knife onto her calf with the strap that was attached. It rode under her uniform trousers without betraying its presence.
Something hit the door hard, and the locking mechanism rattled. Dwan looked to the wardrobe. It had slatted doors out of which Glaid would be able to see. Dwan crossed back over next to it.
“Remember, make no sound no matter what you see or hear.” Again she received no response.
The door was kicked from the outside. A booted foot crashed through the thin wood. Two more kicks and the door simply splintered. A man stepped halfway into the room and saw Dwan standing by the bed. He did not see the blade in her hand which was held behind her thigh.
“All right, now,” the man said with a leer. “And ain’t that nice, already by your bed and all?” He stepped fully inside. The sounds of fighting still raged outside. He was shorter than Dwan, as were most men, and his hair had been hacked off to shoulder length. He wore dirty white canvas clothes and ragged boots which had seen better days. There was a broad-bladed sword in his hand.
Dwan stood still. She had no trouble looking and sounding afraid. “Don’t hurt me,” she said.
The man laughed. “Hurt you, Little Bird? Now why would I do that? You and me is gonna just have us a little tickle before we go take a boat ride.”
He crossed the room, confident in the helplessness of his prey. He was three paces from her when she danced gracefully forward and drove the sword directly into his chest. By chance it had slid between his ribs and drove on through the heart and out of his back. The blade was withdrawn as quickly as it was employed. She skipped back two paces and held the weapon out in front of her.
Her would-be rapist and kidnapper looked down at his chest in shock. The attack had been so quick that it had barely registered on him. Now he saw thin streams of blood spurting from the hole in his chest with every heartbeat. His eyes lifted back to Dwan. “Now what’d you want to do that for?” he asked. He seemed to remember his weapon and raised it over his head. Dwan steadied herself, ready to strike again, but the man appeared to get dizzy, lowered his sword and put a hand to the wound. It came away bloody. He held it up for Dwan to see with an accusatory expression on his face. Then he dropped dead in front of her.
Dwan hopped over the dead man and went to try to shut the shattered door as much as was possible, but two more men burst in. It took them a moment to realize what had transpired in the room. They saw their dead comrade and the tall woman with a sword in her hand.
The moment that they took to read the situation was just long enough for Dwan to strike. She slid her right foot forward as far as she could extend it. At the same time her right arm shot straight out, driving her sword ahead of it. The point of her weapon caught one of the men in the fleshy part of the arm. It drove through and pierced his ribcage on the other side.
The man screamed in a voice so high it could have been mistaken for a woman. Dwan pressed the attack while they were still halfway inside the room. She was now too close to drive her weapon straight in to the other pirate, but she was able to slash his face with a backhanded maneuver. The slashed man cursed and stumbled forward into the wardrobe. The heavy furniture piece did not move, and he fell beside it with his hand cupping his face.
Dwan jumped forward trying for a killing wound before the man could rise, but he slid his legs around and struck out at her. The kick caught her on the shin and she lost her footing. When she hit the floor she heard the pirate with the face wound cry out in triumph as he scrambled to his feet. Dwan rolled to her side as he aimed a stomp at her head causing him to miss. She whipped herself up into a sitting position and took her sword in both hands. As the pirate attempted another stomp she swung her weapon as hard as she could with both hands. The blade, which was kept exquisitely sharp, sliced through the man’s upper thigh. He jumped back cursing and crying out in pain, and Dwan was able to regain her feet.
The two men circled her now. The first pirate was bleeding from the wounds to his arm and his ribcage. His sword hand trembled, and Dwan guessed she had ruptured his lung. The other man was pressing one hand to his face as he carefully edged around her with his long knife held out in front. Dwan took note of the arterial color of the blood that pulsed from his leg and knew he would not survive the wound. The pirate was blissfully ignorant of his imminent death, and he showed her an evil smile as he approached her.
“Now then, Missy,” he taunted. “Now that we have made our introductions, and we all know where we stands, I think it’s time we all had us a tickle.” He looked down and, for the first time, noticed the dead pirate on the floor. “Lo, look there Ausie,” he said to his wheezing partner, “That’s Bakey, it is.” He looked at Dwan again. “After we has us a time or two I’m afraid you has to pay for that there. He’s a shipmate to me and Ausie.”
Dwan saw the blood puddling on the floor at his feet. She held her blade out in front with her right hand and raised the left behind her for balance. She did her best to keep the fear from her voice. “There’s more steel here for you if you’ve taken a liking to it. As for your intentions,” she nodded at his leg. “That’s an artery wound. You might last another minute or two, but you’ll not have enough blood left in you for what you want. These are your last moments alive, Pirate. Spend them well.”
The man was shaken by her words. He backed up as if to examine his situation more fully. He looked down at his leg and saw the massive bleeding which had soaked his pant leg. There was a sizeable pool forming at his feet.
Then there was a crash as the other man lost consciousness and fell against a glow bulb and nightstand. The fall distracted Dwan just enough that the other pirate was able to jump on her, using his greater weight to pull her down with him on top of her. She strained against him, but he was still stronger than she. He pinned her arms and put his face to hers. He smiled with green teeth.
“Now then, Missy, first we’ll have us our tickle, then we’ll…we’ll…”
The smile faded from his fa
ce first. He looked at her in confusion. He started to say something, opened his mouth then closed it. He looked at her with a questioning expression. Then the pupils in his eyes opened wide, and his head fell limply onto her chest.
Dwan struggled under his weight. She tried to push him off, but he was too heavy. She got her hands under his shoulders and pushed. He moved a little. She put all of her strength into it, and he moved some more. She was almost out from under him when more men filed into her residence. They saw the dead men around her and the slim sword, obviously crafted for a woman.
Dwan was yanked off of the floor by two men and held roughly between them. Three more were now inside. They appeared more surprised than angry about her actions. There were even a few laughs.
In a corner one of them was holding his ear to the collapsed man with the punctured lung.
“Hey now,” he shouted, “Ausie here is alive, I think.”
“And it was this bitch here what killed them others. Killed them with that little ladies sword.” Said another.
One of them was holding her weapon out as if he were inspecting it. “What, you mean this? This is barely more than a knife. She might have surprised old Ausie here, but Bakey was a good man with a sword. There ain’t no way she got three of us by herself.”
The men started searching the apartment, looking to see if there was someone else hidden. Dwan tensed when they tried the door on the wardrobe. She knew she had to distract them.
“You think I couldn’t kill your friends by myself? Give me back my blade, and I’ll show you.”
There were still two men holding her. Another walked over and slapped her hard across the face. She saw stars, and her head whipped to the side.
“You’ll show us nothing ya’ Noble slut. You killed our mates.” He drew a knife and put it to her throat.
“Stop there.” Another man entered. The sounds of fighting had risen even louder outside of the apartment. There was a large courtyard there, and she could hear the sounds of combat coming in. She heard shouts coming from the pirates telling the others to withdraw.
The new arrival was taller than the others, though he was still not as tall as Dwan. He was better dressed and better armed with twin swords. He had an air of authority about him. He took in the sight within the residence and showed no reaction whatsoever. “We’re being driven back. Take her and follow me.”
One of them rebelled. “She killed our mates, Quartermaster,” he argued.
The other shrugged. “They won’t be the only ones lost today. She’s valuable, look at her. She’ll bring us a fortune. Now get moving or stay here, I don’t care, but don’t hurt her or I’ll come and find you. You want that?”
“No Quartermaster, meaning no disrespect, Sir.”
“Good now get her, and let’s go, those bastards know how to fight.”
***
Jo-Dal heard the alarm of enemy in the walls. He had been dining with Tyner. He leapt up and ran for the hall giving instructions for his personal bodyguard to stay with the king. Tyner immediately overruled him and sent them to perform their primary duty which was to protect Jo-Dal. Tyner armed himself and his three stewards then sealed the doors to his hall.
Jo-Dal blinked at the bright sun as he emerged from the royal suites onto the defensive walkway at the top of the wall. Four hundred yards away he could see pirates streaming out of a residence near the apartments that were assigned to the workers in the clinic. There were already many dead bodies from both sides strewn around the wide street. As he dashed down the steps to the lower level, the King’s Sword saw several women being pulled and pushed back toward the direction from which the pirates were still coming. He watched as several unarmed Aspellian men tried to free the women and were ruthlessly struck down for their efforts.
The Aspell Warriors were quartered at the opposite end of the stronghold from these residences, but they would soon be upon the invaders. Jo-Dal and the ten men of his personal bodyguard reached them first.
One does not become the Sword of the King at such a young age without having considerable skill as a warrior. Jo-Dal put those skills on display as he whipped off his jacket and threw it over the head of the nearest enemy fighter. He wasted no time in skewering the man before he could free his head and then moved to the pirate on his left. This man had a pike with a hook on one side. The outlaw attempted to snag Jo-Dal’s leg with the hook, but it was kicked away, and a slash of the Commander’s sword took off both of the pirate’s arms. The man screamed in horror and pain until Jo-Dal knocked him aside with an elbow strike.
On both sides of him the members of Jo-Dal’s bodyguard were inflicting similar damage on the other pirates. There were only eleven of them against at least thirty enemy fighters, but the odds were quickly being reduced. The warriors, true to their training, fought as a team. They knew when to press the attack and when to assume a support position for their brother warriors. In the space of a heartbeat the pirates lost twelve men.
More pirates surged forward to join their shipmates against the small band of defenders. By now over a hundred of them had dug their way through the eroded rock foundation of the stronghold. They had broken through and into the cellar of a residence and charged up the stairs, killing the family who lived there. They had then streamed out into the open streets intending to overrun the redoubt. Many were helping themselves to valuables, and others were grabbing women and dragging them back to the cellar from where they had gained entry. Only about sixty or so pirates were engaged in fighting the defenders, but more were getting inside the walls.
At about the same time that the larger band of pirates sought to engage Jo-Dal and his men, the main force of the Aspellian warriors arrived. To call the resulting carnage a slaughter would be understating the situation. The warriors moved through the pirates like a scythe through a weed. In short order shouts were heard for a withdrawal, and many simply turned and ran. Most were chased down and killed without mercy.
Jo-Dal led his men through the door from which they had seen the pirates emerge. They ignored the horror of the slaughtered family and followed the surviving invaders down the cellar steps and out of the hole they’d created and exploited. The Sword of the King looked outside and saw how near they were to the piers. From his vantage point he could see dozens of women being herded aboard the tethered ships.
Followed by his men he crawled through the hole and sprinted for the waterfront. He knew they would not be in time.
***
Taggart and his two companions came thundering over the dunes that lead down to the Kingdom and castle of Aspell. The charon were thickly lathered. They had been ridden hard for three Earth hours. Taggart did not slow his mount until he reached the inclined approach to the stronghold. The gate stood open, and there were warriors milling around. There had obviously been a battle, and wounded were being attended to by civilians and warriors.
Down from the stronghold Taggart saw a quay wall and a line of small shops lining the wharf. Many warriors were there, and some were pointing out to a ship that was just off of the pier. He turned his charon in that direction and Lyyl and Toria followed.
Pulling up hard on the reins Taggart saw a man with the insignia of the King’s Sword on his uniform. He leapt from his charon and ran to the edge of the wharf where all of the other warriors were standing. Several held bows, but none were nocked.
“What’s happened here?” he demanded from a warrior.
The man turned to look at him and was shocked to see the size of him.
‘What the…Who are you? Are you…”
Taggart grabbed him by the collar and shook him with one hand.
“Focus, man. What has happened here?”
The warrior gathered his wits and responded. He pointed out to the ship which drifted lazily off the pier. Aboard it he could see a deck full of men in dirty and ragged clothing. They were laughing and brandishing weapons at the warriors on the pier.
“Those men, those pirates there. They tunne
led under our walls and snuck in. They took a lot of our women before we were able to push them back. We were taken completely by surprise. Some held us back while others loaded our women onto their ships. There’s dozens of ships. We don’t know how many women have been taken or how many warriors we’ve lost.” His shoulders sagged in frustration at the situation.
Taggart looked out at the ship as one warrior attempted to shoot an arrow into the densely packed deck of the ship. It appeared as though they were purposely floating just out of archery range for no purpose other than to taunt the people of Aspell.
It was at that moment that Toria came walking up leading both her charon and Taggart’s. He snatched the stout bow from under his saddlebag and slung the quiver over his shoulder. As the other warriors watched, he wrapped a leg around the weapon and bent it down to the point where he could loop the string over the tip. On the ship the pirates laughed when they saw him nock an arrow and take aim. He pointed it to the place where he wanted the arrow to hit then lifted his sights to adjust for the distance. The arrow shot out far over the water, but fell just short of hitting the ship. The warriors around him expressed surprise at the distance he was able to achieve, and he heard words of encouragement. On the ship the pirates saw how close the arrow had come to hitting them, and their taunting ebbed for a moment then continued even louder.
When Taggart nocked his second arrow some on the deck turned and lowered their trousers to shake their backsides at him. This earned them a round of laughter from their comrades. Taggart put his toes of his left foot to the edge of the seawall and drew the bow back again. He felt Old Geord’s smooth black arrow slide through his fingers and this time elevated his aim just a little higher than the last time. The bowstring sang, and the shaft flew impossibly high. It was unseen in the glare of the sun as it reached the zenith of its arc and fell back toward the sea with gravity lending it more speed.
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 23
