Tour of Duty: Stories and Provocation (20 page)

“I must report. The Yarl himself is to meet us. This is important!” The other woman reached into the horse’s pack and drew out the bird cage. It took her only a few moments to inscribe a note, without dismounting, then to whisper another message while she attached the written parchment to the carrier on its leg. “Fly home, fly home!” she said and tossed the bird skyward.

“Fly hoooome!” it agreed, circling and heading west northwest.

Within the hour, the Herald came up personally. He wore riding clothes, but they, too, were white. His mount was a white stallion with vivid blue eyes. Riga hadn’t seen it closely before. Looking at it now, it seemed to stare at her and delve into her thoughts.

“You seem to be doing well, Riga,” he greeted.

She increased her pace and gave him a bare twitch of a rein finger. He made a very slow nod and moved to pace her. She waited until she had distance to speak.

“They treat me as a girl,” she said, “except when things go bad. Every problem is mine. Either my advice is bad, or I’m naïve . . . ”

“They are villagers of a farming culture,” Bellan said. “You are a woman of a trading culture that grew from warriors and now live among others. I knew this would be a problem, which is why I hurried to gather you all. You’ve done well, no matter how it feels.”

“Now they’ll just feel you’ve taken over,” she groused. She wasn’t sure why she was sharing so much with this stranger. He exuded trustworthiness, though.

“Of course,” he nodded. “But more importantly, they will be safe for now, and your people won’t be burdened with noncombatant refugees as you prepare. I can’t fight for you, but I can clear the field for you.”

Riga didn’t like the sound of that. It made sense that Miklamar was heading their way, but still . . .

“Wouldn’t it make sense for your people to join us and fight here, before it reaches your lands?” she asked.

He laughed. “Oh, Riga, Valdemar is weeks away even by road, even as fast as my Companion can travel.” He patted the horse’s flank. “I’ll do what I can to help, but Miklamar is no threat to my nation. Not even if he were a neighbor. Our rulers are busy with things close to home. Things far less important than an empire-building butcher, but far more immediate. It’s one of the tragedies of the world that disasters are all over. They must be dealt with as best you can. Still, I’m glad we were in the area and can offer some help.”

He paused for a moment, as if listening to the air, or his horse. Riga took the time to consider his words.

No, she didn’t think her remote town, nor even their small nation, were important worldwide, though when they had been called the Rust, not many decades before, they were known all over.

“There is a war band ahead,” Bellan said.

“Is it the mercenaries?” she asked, half in hope, half in dread.

“They’re on foot, in formation, crossing us, probably from the coast road. We can outride them, but the refugees can’t.” Their wagons managed a walking pace at best in this terrain. The children and elders wouldn’t be able to keep up on foot.

“Not the Toughs I met, then.”

“Behind them may be more. We can’t detour that way. We also can’t wait. We’ll have to go through, then ride fast and through the night.” He seemed to shift back to the present. “Will you come with me? We need to plan this.”

“Yes, certainly,” she agreed. “Erki! Take point.”

Riga nodded to the others as she approached. No one here looked at her as if she were only a girl. They’d seen her fight, and most had felt her blows. Kari, Snorru, Rabal and his uncle Lar, three other men and two women, plus the Grogansen boys.

A dozen Kossaki, half of them youths and women, and the Herald. The army ahead was hopefully less than eight times that size, but might be the van of a far larger force.

“What would you do, Sworddancer?” Lar asked. She realized things were being hashed out and she’d missed some of the talk.

She breathed deeply and stared at nothing. It was a problem to be solved, and she entered her realm of calm and thought.

“I’d shoot arrows from distance, and continue until closing. We should dismount close to cause maximum surprise and hopefully break their ranks with fear of the horses.”

“Not bad. We need wranglers. Nor do we want a long fight with their infantry. We must hurt them and retreat, with minimal losses, then look prepared to repeat it. Those levies won’t have the heart for a long fight against professionals, and the mercenaries aren’t around.”

“We are to look like professionals?”

“Worse,” Kari grinned. “We’re
girls
.”

Girls with twelve years of training in horse, sword, bow, map, languages and business, Riga thought, and grinned back. It was an odd thought. No Kossaki would underestimate a youth. They were fighters, traders and travelers from the time they could walk.

She said, “Erki should wrangle horses and recover bows and glean points, but he’ll complain I’m being protective.” Of course, she was, but it made sense for him as youngest to hold back. He could also ride fastest if need be, to carry another message.

“I’ll tell him,” Bellan said.

“Also, we should fire off a shooting star.”

“What good will that do?” Snorru asked. “Our nearest element is hours away.”

“They don’t know that. We act as if we expect overwhelming backup, and hit them hard in the meantime. As Kari says, they won’t stomach a long fight.”

“And best we scare them now,” Bellan said. “Soon enough Miklamar will want your port, too, if he’s not stopped.”

“It might alert an enemy patrol, too,” Rabal said.

“It might. What do you think of that risk against its advantages?”

“Yes, it’s risky,” Lar said. “But the mercenaries must have reported by now. That’s probably why this force is crossing bare steppe toward the caravan.”

“Yes,” Riga agreed.

“Do it.”

Riga and Bellan rode back to the caravan, now one line of the combined party, four lines across.

“We’ll be fighting, then cutting across fast and continuing,” Bellan said.

“We will arm up, then,” Walten said, looking old but sounding firm.

“No, you should move fast and protect your families if it comes to that.”

Jack nodded, and Riga steamed. He didn’t question Bellan. Had she given the same advice, she knew he’d have argued.

Bellan said, “Northwest, and fast. There are towns. Don’t stop for anything but feed and water, and be sure they know. Once you reach the rivers, follow them north to the lake.”

“Start that way now,” Riga said. “We will catch up and guide you later.”

Then she turned, not wanting to know what they thought, and trying not to care. She saw a shooting star scream up, blue and yellow were Snorru’s colors. It crackled and burst, visible for miles. She grabbed for her mail, and shimmied in. After that, she helped Erki with his quilted staghide. It was loose on his frame, but wouldn’t be for long. Handsome boy, she sighed. She was more worried for him than herself.

One in seven, she thought. Wound or kill one in seven, and all but the most dedicated force would retreat. There were seventy-two troops, eight across and nine deep, with two mounted officers. They had bills and spears for the most part, with shields, and leather armor. They were not elite, but were definitely professional, even if levied.

If they each got one, that would do it, as long as they didn’t lose many in the process. If they lost two . . . though they were dedicated because of their desperation.

The troops looked nervous as they approached. A good start, she thought. A small force full of youths approaching with weapons drawn. Either they were insane, or expected massive backup in addition to the hundred men in the caravan. The shooting star suggested backup. Where was it, though? Riga watched them cast glances about and ripple their neat formation.

Bellan quietly said, “First line, dismount and shoot, on my order. Second line, prepare to charge.” He wore gorgeous mail with iron joints, and a polished helm.

She swung down from the saddle, drew an arrow, and stood next to her horse.

“Shoot. Charge.”

She nocked, drew and loosed, and shot again. She had three arrows in the air before he called, “Hold!”

Their timing and discipline was good. The other half of their force and Bellan had galloped ahead, and were dismounting right in the faces of the enemy, hurling javelins as they did so.

The troops moved their shields in response. A couple at least grunted from wounds. A score of arrows and a half dozen javelins used for that. It was amazing how quickly things ran out.

Riga dropped her bow and sprinted forward, unslinging her shield and drawing steel. She saw Erki gathering reins and backing, cajoling the horses. They were holding up well in the fight, and he was earnest in his task. She saw all that live steel and her knees went weak. Sparring with wood or blunt steel in the
vollar
was nothing like ugly strangers who wanted you dead. Her helmet was loose, but there was no time to adjust it now.

The enemy were spreading out for envelopment and slaughter, and Bellan pointed to the left. She moved over that way, between Kari and Snorru. Lar tossed a javelin right past her, to break their line into clumps. One flinched as it caught on his shield, and made the mistake of reaching over to unstick it. She reached him right then, snapped out her sword and took a chunk from his arm. He staggered back howling and got in the way of his mates.

The troops had numbers, yes, and they were trained in rudimentary tactics. They had discipline, but not the years of precision and skill she’d learned. Half were polemen, the rest mixed spears and swords. She deflected a raised pole and got in close for another thrust at anything exposed. The three nearest all turned to face her and started jabbing. It turned into a deadly dance.

This was how she’d earned her name. Her shield and sword never stopped moving. Father had taught her from the beginning, if you were blocking you should also be attacking, if attacking, also moving. One foot should be on the ground for balance, one shifting, and both arms doing something. The shield boss could also bash, its binding could smash, its broadness could conceal your movement from your opponent. The sword could threaten as well as strike. Silence and noise could both be intimidating. Use them. Moving targets were harder to hit. She hadn’t inflicted any lethal blows yet, but her opponents, four so far, were cut and bleeding. A gimp sword arm took a warrior out of the fight, and was easier to score. If they wanted to stick them out, she’d readily slash them. She was smaller, but lithe and agile and used to fighting one to one as well as en masse.

“One, back!” Bellan called, and Kari and Snorru turned and whipped away. She gulped and tingled in fear. Knowing it was planned didn’t make it easier to be left in front, face to face with angry strangers. They pushed forward, seeing the Kossaki retreat and believing they had won.

“Two, back!” Bellan shouted.

She turned and ran, keeping low so javelins could fly over her. Then she saw Erki. He was off to the side, dismounted to recover a bow, and one stray fighter from the brawl was closing on him.

Her first thought was that it made no sense. The man had exposed himself needlessly and was chasing a target of little value. She wondered if his plan was to take a hostage, or chase the horses off, but he was waving his polecleaver vigorously.

Then raw pain and nausea flooded through her mind.
He was going to kill her little brother
.

Tactics said she should stick with the element and not break ranks. She’d only make the disparity of numbers worse. Tactics be damned. “
Erki, your left!
” she shouted to alert him, and dodged past Bellan’s mount. Erki turned to her, but grabbed for his weapons.

“Go, Riga!” Bellan said, acknowledging her, but she didn’t care. The first swing of that long weapon tore and splintered Erki’s shield to the boss. He stumbled back and raised his sword in a block. The cleaver fell, met the sword in a dull clang. He dropped his weapon and howled, face contorted in agony, but he hadn’t been opened up yet.

Then the Acabarran realized he was being flanked and turned. He had no time to swing so he thrust. Riga caught the tip straight into the tough leather and wood of her shield, twisted into it. He made the mistake of trying to hold onto the haft, and wound up sideways to her.

Her first swing hit his thigh but too hard. She felt the blade bite and stick, and had to fight it loose as he fell, kicking and screaming. Real battle was tremendously noisier and dirtier than the
vollar
, she thought as she followed up with a thrust to his torso, and the fight was over.

She retained enough presence of mind to make a sweep around herself. Nothing immediate. Some officer had drawn the force back into a bristling defensive formation. Kossaki javelins chunked into shields but rarely found a mark, and one of the Grogansens had recovered his bow. She was safe for the present.

For a moment she thought Erki had lost an arm. He shrieked and squirmed and was painted with blood. A fresh bout of nausea started, and she grabbed for a bandage from her belt. It was only his thumb, though, or part of it. The blade had not been sharp and had mangled it. He might retain some use.

She dropped her sword flat in front of her, slapped his helmet to draw his attention back to the world and shouted, “Use this!” as she thrust the bandage at him. He gasped in surprise and nodded, before she reached under his hips and heaved him back across his saddle and the added pain of moving set him screaming again. She bent, grabbed her sword, made another sweep, then grabbed his blade and Snorru’s bow. It was heavier than hers, but she’d draw it if she had to. She said, “Off hand!” and flipped Erki’s sword up to him as he tumbled upright. Then she turned back to the fight, clutching at her quiver. Her hands were sticky.

Her first arrow wobbled. The heavier bow needed heavier arrows than hers, but the point here was to keep them disoriented. She wondered where the brilliant flash of flame came from, then realized four shooting stars had been fired horizontally. Half the front rank clutched at their eyes and dropped their guard, during which Snorru, Lar and Kari charged in and speared any handy flesh, then rammed the points into shields and left them stuck as they dove and rolled away. Those troops had to drop their shields, and she shot an arrow straight into the revealed mass. Two javelins followed.