Haven atobas-4

by Joel Shepherd

  “We'll be lucky if the Regent is more than five days behind us,” Kessligh warned them.

  “Plenty of time,” said the Jahndi with a grin. “We would have started earlier but we did not know where you were, or if there was even an army left to cross the Ipshaal. We're glad to see we didn't waste all the effort.”

  In the midafternoon, a serrin rider came, and halted at the head of the column to speak to Jaryd. Sofy hastened her mount up the road past creaking wagons to hear their conversation.

  “Elissians,” Jaryd told her grimly as she arrived. “More than a hundred. They take the more northerly route-they mean to intercept us ahead.”

  “How many fighters have you?” the serrin asked.

  “Twenty-six,” said Jaryd. “Perhaps another twenty archers we've placed on the rear wagons where they're most use, but they're not accurate like the talmaad. How many are you?”

  “Twelve,” said the serrin. Jaryd grimaced. “Can you make better time? We can have boats on the river shore when you arrive, but at your current pace the Elissians will get there first.”

  “We have too many on foot,” said Jaryd. “If we abandon them we may save the half that are mounted.”

  “We shan't!” Sofy said loudly. “Jaryd, I forbid it.”

  “And thus condemn everyone to death,” Jaryd said with temper. “This isn't some contest to see who can think the prettier thoughts, Sofy, this is us trying to make sure that at least some of us survive.”

  Sofy stared at him stubbornly, her jaw set.

  “We can distract them,” said the serrin. “Perhaps an ambush, we may lure them away, purchase some time.”

  “If they're coming after us,” said Jaryd, “it's because they know of this column and have been directed to kill it-they won't be easily distracted.”

  “We'll see,” said the serrin. “Make as much pace as you can, keep on this road until you reach the village, the villagers can tell you where the river landing is from there.”

  He galloped off. Sofy gazed up to where giant white clouds were looming like mountains in the sky.

  “A change comes,” she said.

  “Thunder,” said Asym. “The spirits are watching. They come to collect the dead.”

  It was raining by the time the first in the column reached the river. They poured down rough tracks through the forest, abandoning wagons as serrin helped them into longboats. More boats were coming, serrin and some humans rowing hard from upriver, where Sofy gathered a fishing village lay.

  “You should be on the first ones,” Jaryd told her, shield now on his arm in expectation of the Elissians' arrival.

  “I will not,” said Sofy. “We have an entire column behind us and Elissians somewhere near. This could easily become a stampede. Someone of authority needs to stand upon this bank and appeal to order.”

  Jaryd gritted his teeth, looking at the passing wagons. People on the wagons were indeed looking at Sofy with some measure of reassurance to calm their fear. Some folks were trying to unload their belongings into the boats, and the serrin were protesting. Sofy rode over to them.

  “You cannot take belongings!” she shouted over their argument. “You must abandon them, we need all space on the boats for people!”

  Not everyone understood her Torovan, but enough did. People began to do what she said. But other such arguments were breaking out further up the bank, and she rode off to address them. A glance back to Jaryd did not find him. He was tasked with defending the column, he could not be distracted by boats. But Sofy knew that any delays here on the bank would make Jaryd's task impossible, trying to defend an otherwise defenceless column against Elissian cavalry. Thinking of it, she had a stab of guilt at what she had asked him to do.

  Grumbles of thunder grew to great booms, and flashes lit the darkening sky. The rain grew heavier, and gusts of wind whipped the surface of the Ipshaal River as the first wave of boats rowed hard toward the far bank, laden with people. The Ipshaal was at least three hundred paces wide at this point; even with every available oarsman straining, it was not a fast trip.

  As the crowds built up on the bank, they faced the problem of congestion, hundreds of frightened people queuing for the next boat in the soaking rain, and all those feet, horses, and wagons turning the dampening earth to mud. Sofy rode up and down, ordering wagons aside to make way for new ones, and finding volunteers to ride abandoned wagons back up the road, to collect stragglers and bring them here faster.

  Other boats were arriving, smaller fishing craft, piloted by local Rhodaanis. They took as many passengers as they could, more than was safe, and the little boats struggled in the wind and heavy rain out into the river, waters lapping perilously close to their hull rims. Still the crowds grew as more people arrived, trudging in ankle-deep mud through the trees.

  A new arrival told her of wagons stuck in the mud where the road entered the forest. Sofy put heels to her horse and rode that way to find the source of the problem-wagons queued twenty deep, with more coming from the further fields. The lead three were completely stuck, whole teams of men pushing at wheels and horses and getting nowhere.

  Beyond the thunder, Sofy heard something else. It seemed to be coming from the north, fading now as the wind gusted from a different direction. And then again she heard it. Hooves and yelling. Fighting.

  “Leave the wagons!” Sofy yelled at them. “Leave them and run! Run to the river, the Elissians are coming!”

  People ran, grabbing children, carrying the elderly, stumbling and falling in terror. From further up the road, others were still moving at a sedate pace, perhaps unhearing of the battle. They had to be warned.

  Sofy galloped up the road, yelling at all there to run. They ran, some pitifully tired from the hot days of marching. A woman tried to hold up her child for Sofy, begging in Rhodaani for her to take him ahead to the river. Sofy galloped on, cursing this situation, the storm and the Elissians both. Jaryd had told her that she could not save all these people, and she had refused to listen. But now she saw his awful logic.

  She turned about and galloped back. Trees cleared to her left, and across fields she saw horses galloping. Astride them were cavalry, no knights but men in mail and leathers, with coloured surcoats. Elissians, at least twenty of them. And more beyond the field, coming up the adjoining road.

  Sofy's heart hammered in fear. She spurred her horse to greater speed, and then stopped on an impulse as she passed the woman with her child. She reached for the boy, pushed by his frantic mother over the saddle horn, then set off again with the screaming child in her arms. Rain blinded her, made the reins slippery in her hands, and the boy struggled; she was not an experienced rider, and riding like this was desperately dangerous. But an encounter with the Elissians would be far more deadly.

  Elissians fell from their saddles. Sofy risked a quick look as she approached the abandoned wagons and saw serrin riders pursuing on the Elissians' tails. Horses wheeled to meet them, while others raced on, plunging through the trees ahead, heading for the river.

  She tore between the first trees, slowing so she wouldn't hit any…and didn't see the running family until it was nearly too late. She hauled on the reins, the horse protested, and the next thing she knew they were falling, and she hugged the child to her chest as the ground rushed up and hit her. Then she was stunned, smelling wet leaves and mud, hands hauling her to her feet before rushing onward.

  Her horse was nowhere to be seen, and she was still holding the child, who was screaming, and heavy. Sofy saw a woman sent flying in a collision, a man cut down by a sword. She ran, slipping on leaves and mud, and heard more hooves coming, but with the child she had no hope of defending herself. A horse rushed up, and she expected to die, but it passed and killed a running man beyond, who tried to throw up his hands in defence.

  Elissians wheeled through the trees, striking about them. One fell to an arrow, and then there were serrin riders, firing repeatedly. Elissians chased them, and the serrin evaded. Sofy ran, legs and lungs burnin
g, and now her arms and shoulders too, with the child's weight. Battle crashed around her, and arrows flew through the rain. Her boots sank into mud, sucking at her feet. She passed an Elissian cavalryman on the ground, groaning and trying to crawl with an arrow through his side. Nothing mattered but the river, and putting one foot before the other, as fast as possible. She did not remember it being so far away.

  Then she could see the bank, a scene of chaos compared to when she'd last seen it. Bodies sprawled in the mud, terrified people scattering, tumbling down the bank as horses galloped past. Fighting milled nearby, defending cavalry exchanging blows with Elissians, but she was too blind with fear and rain to see who was winning.

  She hid behind trees as more Elissians galloped by, saw a running family slashed down with swords, children and all, severed limbs falling. Then she ran, clutching the child tightly, across that open ground before the bank, arrows zipping overhead from somewhere, then a booming crash of thunder. Mud at the lip of the bank was calf-deep and bloody amidst the bodies, some of which still moved and shrieked.

  Then the drop-off to the water, down which Sofy was about to throw herself with careless desperation…but there she saw mounted Elissians below at the water's edge, chasing unarmed Tracatans into shallow waters now red and floating with bodies. Several more Elissians had dismounted, and were pursuing others into the water, killing without mercy as those mounted riders indicated others who might get away.

  They did not know which was the Princess Regent, Sofy realised. Even now, she could see them singling out the women for death. They did not know which was her, and so they killed every woman they could, and everyone else in between.

  More arrows zipped in, coming from the river. Serrin boats were approaching, unable to find a place to land, archers firing from middle range at the Elissians on the shore. Swimmers were thrashing into deep water, trying to reach the boats, dragged aboard by the crews.

  Sofy heard more hooves, and looked. Three Elissians were galloping at her. A young woman holding a child, she was the only immediate target, but their attention switched as two new horsemen arrived. One was Asym, not bothering to cut, but simply using his shield to bash an opponent from his saddle. The man hit the bank and tumbled down to the water.

  The other rider was Jaryd, who chased the remaining two as they rode straight past Sofy, slashing one who was too slow. That man hit the mud ten paces from her, head-first and neck snapping.

  “Sofy!” Jaryd yelled at her, and pointed upriver as he wheeled back. “That way, there's a boat!”

  She looked, and sure enough a longboat had pulled into the shallows, surrounded by refugees. Jaryd turned back as more Elissian riders came at him…he didn't have time to pick her up. She had to run. The pain of exhaustion was worse than anything she'd ever felt. But so was the fear.

  Sofy threw herself into a feet-first slide down the embankment, and hit the water with a splash. She struggled up, regathering the child with stiffening arms, and ran on. The water here was shallow. But the Elissians, previously below her in the water, were now behind.

  Even as she threw a look over her shoulder, she could see them coming. There were two on horseback. Another few strides and they'd run her down.

  A horse and rider appeared on the lip above, and simply fell off the edge. Jaryd, Sofy realised in midplunge. The horse hit the leading Elissian horse right across the saddle, crushing it and rider into the riverbank. Jaryd fell in the tangle, disappearing under rolling horses.

  “Jaryd!” Sofy screamed, and turned back. He fought clear of fallen horses as they struggled to rise, one with a broken leg and thrashing. The second Elissian circled into deeper water, but the thrashing horse connected with his own, which reared and panicked. The Elissian fell with a splash, but came up just as fast.

  Jaryd had lost his shield, and came at him in knee-deep water with a roar, but his leg was dragging. The Elissian survived his first two attacks with fast parries, then swung back. Jaryd ducked and drove forward, but his wounded leg was slowing him badly. The Elissian hit him with his shield, Jaryd grabbed his sword arm, and then they were both flailing and wrestling in the shallows.

  For an instant they disappeared, then reappeared in a frenzy of splashing. The Elissian was on top, arm about Jaryd's neck in a grip he did not seem able to break. He was driven underwater as the Elissian fought for a knife to replace the sword he'd lost.

  Sofy found herself running through the shallows. She did not recall putting the child down, nor pulling the almost forgotten knife from her belt, but as the Elissian drew his own blade she threw herself onto his back, put her knife beneath his chin, and cut as hard as she'd ever cut anything. Blood spurted, and he thrashed, throwing her off then landing on her. She kept stabbing and slicing as water filled her lungs, now frothing red and foul.

  Then Jaryd was dragging her up and pulling her on along the bank. But his leg was slowing him, his limp severe. His own horse lay motionless, neck broken, the other still flailing with a snapped leg-they would have to run. Sofy thought Jaryd might drag her straight past where the child sat wailing in the shallows, but he picked up the boy without a word, his other arm about Sofy's shoulders as she supported him, and together they fought their way toward the boat.

  “The Princess Regent!” Jaryd yelled as they approached the boat. Men were pushing it into the water, as still more people tried to surge aboard, nearly up to their shoulders now. Jaryd tried waving, and nearly fell as he abandoned Sofy's support. “The Princess Regent, hold the boat!”

  Several cavalrymen were heroically holding the bank beneath the cover of arrows from this boat's stern and several other boats in deeper water, nearly overflowing with people, but holding position to provide cover with their archers. But even now, a cavalryman fell to an Elissian attack, and the remaining man looked to be overwhelmed.

  Asym arrived with a yell, cut down one Elissian, collided with another's horse, and sent several more wheeling away. Arrows found one, and he reeled in the saddle with shafts through chest and thigh. Sofy could see Asym gesticulating at her and Jaryd to get aboard, but could not hear what he said.

  Jaryd led them splashing into deeper water, as people trying to get aboard actually paused to help them, waving frantically at them to hurry. The water closed in, and the current was stronger than Sofy had expected. Screams came from the bank as blades clashed and horses thundered once more, and then Asym was down, tumbling down the embankment.

  Jaryd reached the boat, thrust the child into waiting hands, then boosted Sofy clean out of the water. “Asym!” he yelled toward the bank. “Get your Isfayen backside out here!”

  Asym was backing into the shallows, one arm dangling, the other holding his sword before him. Unable to urge horses down the treacherous embankment, Elissians dismounted and pursued on foot. The boat was not dislodged from the bank yet; if it were not shoved free, they would be stuck here at the mercy of the Elissians. Even now, more of them were arriving.

  “Jaryd!” Sofy shouted, leaning back out of the boat to grab at his arm. “Jaryd, you have to get in!”

  “Asym!”

  The Isfayen threw them a look over his shoulder through wet black hair, and smirked. An Elissian came at him in the shallows, and one-handed Asym swayed aside an attack, and hacked through the other man's shoulder. Another came, exchanging blows, then fell in a spray of blood and teeth as Asym cut through his face. He roared something in Telochi, hammering his hilt to his chest, and dared the other Elissians to come and die.

  Jaryd watched silently. Then he turned and, without any assistance, clambered aboard. Men in the shallows kept pushing, dislodging the boat bit by bit as its vastly increased weight pressed it down. Squeezed against one wooden side, Sofy and Jaryd watched as Asym killed two more Elissians, then another. Many more stood back in fear, and stared at the bodies floating about Asym's legs, and the blood that turned the water bright red. Lightning flashed, glinting off Asym's blade as he pointed it to the sky, and challenged his enemies once mo
re.

  Upon the embankment, an Elissian emerged with a loaded crossbow. Asym laughed at him, and yelled abuse. In there somewhere, Sofy was certain, was the Telochi word for “coward.” The man with the crossbow aimed, and Asym spread his arms toward him.

  Sofy closed her eyes.

  Then they were moving out into the current. She was shivering in the pouring rain, and Jaryd's arms were about her. She heard him murmuring something, but did not understand the words. It sounded like a Goeren-yai chant, a call to the spirits to come and claim their fellow hunter. Jaryd's face, white with pain, bore no tears, only pride for his friend.

  Sofy buried her head against his shoulder, and waited for Saalshen to arrive.

  Sasha left Father Belgride's temple along a series of rear plankways upon the shore of Lake Andal. Rhillian and Aisha were with her, the three women keeping their feet dry past the walls of lakefront buildings, and across the rampways and piers to which boats were tethered.

  Above pointed rooftops the sky was bright and blue, though the altitude made the air only warm rather than hot. As the road turned, mountains appeared in the gaps between buildings. The peaks had Andal and its lake surrounded, happy prisoners of a beautiful land.

  People were plentiful on the streets, neatly dressed and handsome, as it seemed in all of Ilduur. There were more blond people here than Sasha had ever seen before, and Aisha assured her it had been so long before the arrival of serrin. They went about their daily business unarmed and carefree. To walk amongst them, Sasha wondered if they'd even heard that there was a war. Yet for all there was to like about the picturesque surroundings, the mood on the streets was of nervous tension.

  Sasha had her own discomfort. To fit in with the local folk, the women had to dress like them. That meant dresses. They were neat and simple, of pleated dark cloth and white blouses with loose sleeves and tight cuffs. Sasha would much rather have walked the streets naked. Without her sword, that was how she felt anyway.