Authors: Sam Barone
Totomes picked up his cup and matched Esk kar’s gesture. “To Orak.”
The five men all drank deeply, though Esk kar put his cup down first, still half - full. “I’m glad that we left the gate, Captain. I don’t like weapons at my back.”
“If we’re going to talk, Totomes, we might as well do it in the shade and with a drink in our hands. But if you think you’re any better off here than at the gate, you’re mistaken. I can have you driven from Orak at any time.
You’ve no place to go inside the village where you couldn’t be found.”
Totomes considered that for a while, then nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” He drank more ale, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We came here looking for a chance to kill barbarians. In the countryside, men say Orak is planning to resist them, though I don’t see how that’s possible. But we decided to come and see for ourselves.”
“Oh, it’s true enough.” Esk kar leaned back against the rough wall.
“Though we may all die in the trying. As you saw when you passed through the gate, we’re building a wall around the village. When it’s completed, we intend to fight the barbarians from it and kill them with arrows.”
“You’ll need many bowmen for that, Captain,” Totomes remarked.
“And skillful ones. Barbarians aren’t easy to kill, even with arrows. We should know. My sons and I have killed many in the last two years.”
Esk kar considered those words. If these three had been fighting the steppes people for the last few years and managed to survive, they must indeed be capable. He picked his words carefully. “I don’t wish to offend, Totomes, but how have you been able to survive so long? Unless there are more of you somewhere.”
An expression of sadness passed over Totomes’s face. “Our people live far to the north, high on the steppe, near the great northern sea, where the clime is much colder than here. An earthquake forced my clan to move south, and we’d started to build a new home when our camp was attacked by an Alur Meriki raiding party. They killed almost all of us. My brother, my wife, and several children, all dead.” He looked down into his ale cup.
“My sons and I, and some others, were away, exploring in the mountains, looking for ores and timber. When we returned, we saw the barbarians riding away. Not all of our clan were dead when we arrived. Many had been tortured and mutilated, then left to die. My sons watched their mother’s slow death.”
Totomes glanced at his sons. “Those of us who remained swore a blood oath to take revenge, and fourteen of us began to trail the barbarians. Some of us died fighting them, and others have turned back. But my sons and I have not yet killed enough to satisfy our oath.”
Esk kar nodded in sympathy, though it was an old story to him, one repeated a hundred times. “Well, Totomes, if you wish to kill barbarians, you’ve come to the right place, providing that you can take orders. I need as many expert archers as I can fi nd, and more than that, I need men who can teach others. Even now, we’re training men to use the bow.”
Esk kar glanced down at the bows resting on the table. In the dim light they appeared different from any he’d ever seen. “May I examine your bow? I don’t think I’ve seen one quite like it.”
That brought smiles to their faces. “Nor are you likely to, Captain.”
Totomes handed him one of the bows. “They’re a new design that my grandfather created, made from the heartwood of a special tree that grows only in certain parts of the steppe. The wood closest to the heart of the tree is thicker and stronger than the outer wood, so it acts as if two pieces were glued together.”
Esk kar examined the bow carefully, aware from his experiences with Rufus the bowyer that he had just learned a great secret. The bow had considerable heft but was not so weighty as he had expected. Lifting the bow toward the light, he saw that it was indeed made from a single piece of wood.
Esk kar knew a bow made from only one piece of wood could not take much stress and certainly could not fire a heavy arrow any great distance.
The wood on the outer side of the bow had to bend so much farther than the wood on the inner side and so tended to break. To solve that problem, the bowyers fashioned their war bows from several pieces of wood bent at differing angles, joined into a center socket and held together with glue.
On Totomes’s bow the wood on the inside looked as if it had been dyed, but closer inspection revealed only the wood grain’s normal color-ing. The bow’s center had been wrapped with thin cords and leather strips to add strength as well as to provide a better grip. Putting the bow down, he looked at Totomes. The man took an arrow from his quiver and handed it to Esk kar.
Esk kar noted that it was almost three inches longer than the arrows his own men used and so slightly heavier, but otherwise seemed no different.
“How far can such a bow fling an arrow like this?”
“We can hit whatever we aim at up to two hundred paces with the full weight of the arrow. The bow can shoot such a shaft well over five hundred paces. We’ve hit targets at even longer distances.” A hint of pride sounded in his voice.
That sounded like boasting to Esk kar, but he let it pass. Hitting anything at two hundred paces was fine shooting. Handing the arrow back to its owner, he picked up his ale cup. “So what are your plans, Totomes? If you wish to stay and fight, then you’ll fight under my command and follow my orders. Otherwise, you may stay a few days in Orak to rest and buy what you need before you move on. I cannot have fighting men loose in the village. All men carrying arms in Orak are under my command.”
“I’m the leader of my clan. I cannot take orders from … others.”
“Well enough,” Esk kar answered, sipping at the last of his ale. “Then in three days, you must leave. If you’re still here, I’ll take your bows and whatever else of value you have and have you driven from the village.”
He stood up. Hykros did the same. “You can sleep here in safety, and they’ll not charge you too much now they’ve seen you drinking with me. Good day, Totomes.” Esk kar nodded to the two boys and started to walk out.
Totomes rose also, “Captain, please stay. There’s still much I would discuss with you.”
Esk kar turned and stared at the man until Totomes let his eyes drop.
“You say you’re the leader of a clan, Totomes, but your clan is dead or far from here, and now you have only these boys following you. You say you wish to fight, but here in Orak we fight the barbarians my way or not at all.”
Esk kar let that sink in, but continued before Totomes could reply. “If you wish to stay, then you pledge yourself to me until the barbarians are defeated and gone, or until we are all dead. You’ll obey me in all things, as does every other man who fights in my command, and you’ll draw the same pay. If you can use those bows as well as you claim, you’ll help train my archers, and that will keep you from carrying rocks or digging ditches, though you’ll do that, too, if need be. I’ve said all that needs to be said.
Choose now.”
Totomes stood there, pride struggling with his desire for vengeance.
Narquil, who looked to be the older of the boys, spoke to Totomes in his own language. They exchanged words, and even the younger boy had his say. Totomes turned back to him.
“I accept your offer, Captain. Will you please sit down,” he asked.
“There’s much we would like to know.”
Esk kar bowed formally, sealing the bargain, and returned to his seat.
The serving girl, who had stood there listening to every word, rushed back with more ale, and poured another round. “Then I’m glad to have you join our forces, Totomes, and there is much …”
The door flew open with a crash that startled patrons and customers alike. Everyone’s hand reached for knife or sword, the bright sun illuminating the same messenger who’d summoned Esk kar earlier. “Captain! …
Bantor says come to the gate at once!” He gasped a moment to catch his breath. “Riders are coming. He thinks it may be Jalen!”
Esk kar bolted upright, bumping his head on the low ceiling, and started toward the door before he remembered his new recruits. “Hykros, take Totomes and his sons to Gatus. Tell him we have new instructors for the archers, then bring them to my house.”
Esk kar ducked under the doorway and began to run, the messenger leading the way back to the gate As Esk kar reached the gate, Bantor descended the last steps of the wooden ladder that provided access to the top of the wall, a big smile on his face that grew even larger when he saw his captain.
“Is it Jalen?” Esk kar couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.
“I think so. It looks like his horse, at least.”
Walking with Bantor to the gate, he looked down the road and saw a small group of horsemen riding slowly toward them. He counted four men, only two less than had departed, and when they drew closer, he noted that the youthful servant had survived, though two fighting men obviously had not. Esk kar stood at the side of the old wooden gate as a group of villagers rushed through. A hand took his, and he looked down to see Trella had joined him.
“How did you hear so quickly?” he asked, putting his arm around her, enjoying her touch. He looked behind him to make sure her guard was present, since his own had been left with the visitors. A few of Drigo’s men remained, though most had left weeks ago. While the danger from Drigo’s followers had lessened, the number of villagers who had no kind thoughts for Orak’s war leader and his hard discipline had increased.
“Bantor wasn’t sure where you’d gone, so he sent a messenger back to the house. The boy told us about the three archers that you turned your back on and invited to go drinking after they threatened to kill you.”
Esk kar laughed. “It wasn’t like that, Trella. They’re interesting folk, though.”
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t,” she answered, tightening her grip on his hand.
“But I’d like to meet them.”
“You will, tonight. We’ve just enough room in the small house for three more, I think.”
Conversation ceased as Jalen trotted through the gate in a swirl of dust to the cheers and shouts of the crowd. He swung down from his horse, stiff from his long ride. Esk kar found himself hugging his lieutenant, pounding him on the back, while the villagers called out Jalen’s name.
“Gods below, Jalen, I’d given you up for dead days ago! Now you ride in as easy as can be. Come back to my house. We can talk there.”
“By the gods, it’s good to be back.” Jalen glanced up at the wall, his mouth agape at the sight. “And much has changed since I left.” He stepped back to his horse and untied a leather pouch from his blanket, then followed Esk kar and Trella as they headed home. Halfway there they found Nicar waiting for them in the street. He invited them all to his house, saying the other nobles would be coming there as well.
Moments later Nicar’s guests filled his meeting room to capacity, with every seat and stool occupied. A dozen others stood wherever they could find space. All waited for Jalen.
He’d stopped to wash up, though Esk kar knew it would take more than a few moments at the well to remove the smell of horseflesh from body and clothes. The room already felt warm from the presence of so many bodies.
Once again Esk kar sat at the foot of the table with Trella near his side. Gatus, Sisuthros, and Bantor stood behind their captain. When Jalen entered, damp from his washing, he wore one of Nicar’s old tunics, a garment too large for his frame. Jalen sat down in the last open seat, next to his captain, and drank from the wine cup already poured in front of him.
“Noble Nicar, I thank you for your wine and the loan of your tunic.
Mine is not worth saving, I’m afraid.”
“Whatever you want, you have only to ask,” Nicar answered. “But come, we’re eager for news. Did you find the barbarians?”
The smile disappeared from Jalen’s face. “Yes, I found them, and there’s much to tell.” He reached for the leather pouch he’d entrusted to his captain. Jalen removed the cloth map and spread it out on the table. Torn at the edges and dirty from much handling, it had obviously served its purpose well. Esk kar saw many new threads sewn onto it.
All heads craned toward the cloth as if its secrets would be clearly visible. Looks of concern replaced the smiles as they wondered what news they would hear. Jalen put down his wine and began his tale.
“Before we’d gone five days, we began to hear word about the Alur Meriki. As we went farther north, we met people moving west, and we learned of raiding parties that ranged far to the northeast. To avoid those, we traveled closer to the river, and there was little activity for another week until we began to encounter many folk moving south trying to stay ahead of the main party. Many of these people knew of Orak and were heading here. Have any arrived?”
“Yes, more and more are on the roads, all coming here,” Esk kar replied.
“Some stay, if they’re willing to fight or work. Others camp outside and move on in a few days.”
Jalen nodded. “More will come. We continued to ride north for another week and began to see small scouting parties, five or ten barbarians. We ran south each time they saw us. Once they chased us for a full day before we lost them. Thank the gods for our strong horses. Each time, we circled back north again and moved farther away from the river.”
Esk kar leaned forward, his eyes hard. “You saw no big raiding parties, only scouts?” They should have encountered at least one large band of warriors.
“Yes, only scouts. We couldn’t continue north, so we moved east. We talked to many travelers and even some bandits. The farther east we went, the clearer things became.”
Jalen drank again from his cup. Every eye rested upon him. “The barbarians have a plan. The main body of the tribe, with at least seven or eight hundred warriors, is coming slowly toward us, more or less following the river. Two large raiding bands are ranging far to the south and east of the main body, killing everyone in their path or forcing them to head west.” He put his finger on the map, and everyone stood or left his seat to get a closer look, the nobles jostling each other, dignity forgotten.