Chap. 348.1 The Attack

Chap. 348.1 The Attack

“What a great team you are,” Lizard said. As tired as his horses were, still, they set out on the road towards the next meadow. Both horses remembered very well where they were heading.

“Fresh water and a good roll, lassie, it’s just up the road a piece.”

He set his fire lizards to watch for raiders or the brown fire lizard. So far, they were showing nothing but a kettle of scavenger wherries circling far overhead.

He’d tied the grey mare to the rear of the wagon, figuring the pack horse, being herd bound, would follow without being tied. He did. Until he was faced with a Horse Eating Monster.

Soon they were at the meadow that, from the road, seemed to be just another studded with outcrops. But behind the palisade was a hidden oasis, a meadow with a creek passing through it, plenty of grazing, shade trees, and even a rock shelter built sometime in the past. A narrow passageway, just wide enough to allow his team and caravan to pass through, was unseen from the road.

The team knew exactly what to do. The draft mare angled the caravan just so and entered the narrow, echoing passageway into the hidden meadow. And stopped.

The bay packhorse froze, seeing the giant, darkened maw that was large enough to swallow him whole.

The mare, catching his fear out of the corner of her eye, stopped, too, braking the wagon. She began to fight the halter, trying desperately to escape.

The team, annoyed, began to pull. He could almost hear the draft mare saying “It’s just a passageway, twit,” to the grey.

Horses, he thought, sometimes they’re so smart and then sometimes they’re so stupid.

He moved through the caravan to the back door, opened it and was barely able to reach the frantic mare’s quick release knot.

The moment she felt the rope loosen, she jumped backwards, spun and bolted for the road. The packhorse followed her.

Crunch had dropped to the ground when the team first stopped.

“Crunch! Stop those horses!”

The dog ran under the caravan into the outer meadow and around the mare, turning her back with an imperious bark. She slowed to a trot, then stopped. The bay joined her. Crunch moved the pair back to the palisade. They studied the passageway for long moments, then when it failed to move, dropped their heads to graze.

“Good dog!” He called, as the dog came back, triumphantly wagging his tail.

The team, feeling the braking easing, didn’t wait for him to reach their reins. They both knew exactly where to park the caravan. Then they stopped and clearly indicated it was quitting time, unharness us and let us roll.

What would I do without this team? And my fire lizards? And my dog? They’re all the family I need.

He climbed down from the caravan, his knees complaining. Family, yes, but they can’t help me climb up or down from the caravan without feeling creaky.

He unharnessed the team. The two horses immediately went off a ways, dropped and rolled. He watched them, fondly. They might not be fast or pretty, he thought, but they’re a top notch team, smart and willing. Once they’d stood up and shook, he knew they’d be fine.

He walked out the passageway to watch the grey and the bay.

Right now, you’re bait, sorry to say, he thought. What to do with you after this situation with Vixen and the raiders is done, I haven’t decided. I don’t need four horses. The grey is beautifully trained, and there are times when a riding horse is awfully convenient. But at just five years old, she’s still pretty green, and I’m too old now to ride out any craziness. The packhorse is solid and stable, but he’s dreadfully herd bound.

His fire lizards had scanned the meadow without finding prey. They landed on his shoulders.

“Batu, Machli. Watch for riders, there you go.” The two chirped and flew up to an outcrop near the road.

I don’t want the raiders finding my caravan or my team. I need to ride her horses further east.

He moved to the grey. She nuzzled him, forgiving him for the scare. Don’t, little lass, don’t make me love you. Not yet, anyway. The bay, the pack on his back still secure, was behind her.

He thought about jumping aboard her, bareback, I’ve done it since I was a tot. But his back said NO.

Sighing, he submitted by moving the mare to a nearby rock. He stepped up and mounted. “Old age has become a series of accommodations for my body,” he said to the mare. He settled himself, asked her for a head turn with just the lead rope attached to her halter. Yes, you are very well trained.

One of these days, he thought, I’ll go to a needle thorn (acupuncturist) healer. That will set my back right. I hope.

He moved her next to the bay and picked up his lead rope.

Whistling for Crunch, he set out onto the road. He looked back to check on how obvious the caravan tracks leading into the hidden meadow were.

Not bad, he thought, not bad at all.

This mare moves very nicely, he thought. She’s comfortable. I may just keep you, after all this.

He pinged Batu and Machli for the proximity of the raiders. They launched to a point high in the sky-not high enough to entice the wherries, but enough to show him a small dust plume in the distance. Ten minutes? Maybe more? I can get a kilometer away in that time, if we trot.

He rehearsed what he would say to the raiders once they caught up with him. They’ll be pugnacious and threatening. I did see a bow on the saddle of one their horses.

Let’s see. Will they remember me as the trader, or as the courier? My cap should be a dead giveaway, but, I’m bigger than Vixen and obviously male. Did they get a good look at her?

How did I get these horses? Um..I’ll try to convince them I found them, but just bad enough to make them think I stole them.

Yes. What’s in the barrel? Um…beer. Won’t hurt to be a little truthful.

They’ll get ugly. I’ll submit. Okay, you can have the packhorse, just let me keep the grey. And no, I don’t remember ever seeing your lot before.

Hopefully by then, Toric’s men will catch up. Either way, they’ll continue on their way.

Still, I don’t like having them behind me.

The brown fire lizard swooped over his head. Batu and Machli met him in the sky and forced him to land atop one of the outcrops, where he watched Lizard ride off.

Now they have my trail, he thought. She got by them. My diversion worked.

For a moment, he hated the brown for being a spy for criminals. Then common sense prevailed. He’s just an animal, doing the bidding of his owner, he thought. Just like my two. I can’t hate him for that, just..the people who would abuse such trust. Maybe I should be grateful that’s he’s giving me a heads up.

————————————————————————————————–

“My lizard sees him! He’s on the road with the horses, heading east!”

the leader cried, relieved.

“Let’s go!”

—————————————————————————————————

He heard a shout and galloping horses. Here they come, he thought, seeing them, and cued the mare into a canter.

They surrounded him. The leader placed his horse dead in front of the mare, forcing her to stop.

“Hey, arsehole!” he protested, inviting them to respond.

They didn’t. Within seconds, he was fighting for his life.

One of the raiders leaped off his dun horse to land behind him on the grey. His right arm surrounded Lizard’s chest, pulling him back up against the man. A dagger flashed in his vision coming from the left, seeking his throat.

He went ice cold, with the instant knowledge that the attacker’s right arm had little strength and that he had never fought with a knife. Unlike me….

He collapsed, reached up with his free left hand and yanked the man sideways by the collar. He felt the dagger slash through his leather jacket and the white hot pain as it scored his collar bone. The grey reared, dumping them both. He twisted, the right arm around his chest released and he grabbed the man’s dagger. The attacker was underneath him and cushioned his fall. He stabbed the man in the left armpit right to the handle, feeling something sever. The attacker released his hold, screeching.

Batu flashed into his view, screeching in the dagger man’s face.

Two arrows missed him by centimeters. Crunch leaped over the man, roaring, as he charged the bowman.

The grey bolted, the packhorse right behind her. The tall man left the three others in order to catch the packhorse. If I can get away, I’ll have it all to myself, he thought. He galloped after the bay and caught its dragging lead rope at the halter. He pulled the bay’s head straight and urged his own mount to keep running.

But the bay jumped backward, ripping the lead rope from the man’s fist. The gelding turned and raced back towards the grey, almost hitting Lizard as he passed. The leader spun his horse and raced towards the melee.

Lizard saw an arrow hit Crunch, knocking him down. “You bastard,” he shouted, pulling his own dagger. He ran at the bowman, seeing him nock another arrow. Shaff, you’re fast with a bow, he thought. I bet this one’s for me.

Behind him he heard pounding hooves and a whirling sound.

He felt ropes wrap his body, then a rock hit him in the head. At the same moment, he heard the bow twang. Then all went black.

The arrow flew over his falling body and straight into the leader’s face, right between the eyes on into his brain.

His hands jerked on the reins, stopping his horse. He fell backwards onto its rump.

The grey and the bay fled into the meadow, to stand, shivering.

The bowman and the boloman reined to a stop, panting, shocked at the sudden violence.

The leader’s horse trotted up to their mounts. The leader, his head turned to them, looked at them with dead eyes.

“Shards, mate. That was one shaff of a shot,” the boloman gasped, amazed at the arrow pointing skyward.

“I, well, he wasn’t the target, you know that.”

“Don’t matter,” the boloman said. “I guess he won’t be griping about his eyesight anymore.”

The bowman felt his body shaking from adrenaline. “That didn’t take long,” he said, “I expected a big fight.”

“Aye.”

Their compatriot moaned and sat up. His face was white, drained of color.

“Is he dead?” he asked.

“Who? Which one?”

“The leader. The courier.”

“Both, I’m thinking. What in the name of Pern made you jump behind him? I was just going to scare him into giving up the packhorse. It didn’t need you stabbing him!”

“Uh, I don’t know why! He stuck me with me own dagger! I can’t feel my arm.”

The boloman bit off the retort as to how one could be so stupid as to let someone stab him with his own knife.

“The one that was hurt in the fight?”

“That was me right arm. I had to use me left for the dagger but now my left arm is numb.”

The horsemen looked at him. You’re in shock, he thought. Your horse is gone to who knows where. What shall we do with you now?

You dolt. I’m not putting you up behind me. By rights I should just let you sit here and contemplate your error in tactics.

The boloman looked at him, the same thoughts in his mind.

“Go get the packhorse,” the bowman said. The boloman began to question, then understood.

“Don’t leave me, mate! I can’t move my left arm!” the wounded one cried.

“We’re not! Just be quiet, I need to think.” It was so chaotic for what seemed hours, now it’s not. What do I do? the bowman thought.

“Your horse ran off. We’re going to have to put you up on the packhorse.”

“The leader, what happened, is he dead?”

“He is. He ran into my arrow, y’know? While trying to steal the packhorse. “

“That bastard, I knew he weren’t to be trusted.”

The boloman rode up, the packhorse passively allowing himself to be led, as the grey was right beside him.

“Aye. See, what the Wise Man from the North didn’t know about these horses is no matter where the grey goes, the packhorse will go with her. He tried to steal the packhorse away from her and he says, No, mate, not without my woman.” He laughed, but it was more from adrenaline than joy. He dismounted and looked down at the wounded man. “Need a leg up?”

The hurt man nodded. “My left arm, it’s, it’s numb. And I’m bleeding. And that pack, how’s I gonna fit?”

The boloman wrapped his arms around the man’s chest. The arms were of no use, he noted, it taking all his strength to lift the man to his feet without using them for leverage. He grunted.”You’ve been on good pasture mate, been holding out on us?”

“My arm, it won’t work right. I can’t climb up.”

The bowman realized he’d have to lift the man aboard. Despite his own sore body, he boosted the man onto the packhorse. The man grasped the pack saddle with his right hand.

“I don’t know if I can ride, what with me left arm,” he said.

“I know. You’ve said it four times, mate. But you have to ride, you’ll hold us back walking, right? You have to. Hold on tight, don’t fall off. Understand? Hold tight as you can. Unless you’d rather be up with the leader?”

“No! How’s it he’s still on the horse iffen he’s dead?”

“Both feet run through the irons. But if the horse begins to buck, he’ll come off, sure as sunrise. Shall we put you up there with him?”

“No! I.. I feel so light headed, but I don’t want to be anywhere nears that lout. My left leg, it’s crooked, I can’t move it with me arm.”

The boloman went around the back of the bay and rearranged the man’s leg. His left arm hung as if by a thread.

Bright crimson blood dripped steadily from underneath the man’s sleeve.

He met the bowman’s eyes. The bowman raised one quizzical eyebrow.

The boloman backed up out of the wounded man’s view and shook his head. He flashed both hands, fingers extended, twice. Twenty minutes, max.

The bowman nodded. He’ll slow us down, he thought, but you don’t leave your mates on the battlefield, even a stranger like the leader. He might have a wallet, after all.

“What about ‘im,” the hurt man said, indicating the fallen Lizard, “is that one alive?”

The boloman went over to Lizard. A gold fire lizard dove at him, hissing. He waved her off.

He reached down and tore the sea cap off Lizard’s head. Blood oozed from where the bolo stone had hit him, even through the thick wool of the cap.

“No, don’t think so. You about sliced his arm off, judging by the blood. And lissen. When I throw my bolo, I don’t miss. The rocks are worth a fortune but we don’t have time to take them. I got him good.”

“Good,” the wounded man repeated, “he ruined me arm.” He tightened his grip on the packsaddle and shoved his feet through the girth to anchor himself. His left arm refused to respond, filling him with dismay. Will it ever work again? He looked at the canvas covered barrel right in front of him, a ‘thing’ that was so valuable not an hour ago. Now is it worth all this pain? I feel so weak, he thought. I need a drink of water and I need to lay down until I feel better.

The boloman remounted and looked towards the bowman.

“Now what do we do?”

The sudden feel of leadership pressure hit him.

“I’ll take the grey, the packhorse will follow,” the bowman said, “and you,” he motioned to the boloman, “you take the leader’s horse. We have to clear out. Now.”

“And go where?”

“We head east. There’s a cave I know of, back a ways from the road. I think we’ve got about half an hour to get there. From there, we’ll split up.”

The man on the packhorse panicked.

“Split up? Why?” he said, scared. “I can’t ride by myself, not like this, and I don’t dare cross into Southern Hold.”

“Dolt! Do you think Toric’s just going to say, oh, drat, another barrel of my money has disappeared in the badlands? No, his men will be right after us. We’ll get to the cave, patch you up, split the money three ways, and each go a different route into the badlands. They can’t find us, there.”

I’m not your family, he thought, there’s only so much I’m willing to do for you. Not that you’ll be alive for much longer. You’re bleeding out, but I don’t have the ability to stop it.

“What about ‘im?” the injured man tried to point at the leader’s horse. His right arm hurt too much. They’re not going to leave me, he thought, relieved. I would have dumped them all in a heartbeat and kept the money for myself.

“We’ll take him with us, find a spot to dump the body-there’s a deep gully not far from here. Then you can ride his horse.”

He motioned to the boloman to collect the leader’s horse.

The boloman contemplated the dead face, the arrow still sticking up from between the eyes. He reached to pull it out. It took some effort. He tossed it aside and spat on the ground. You were sure the courier was a girl, he thought.

“Told you he was a he,” he said.

Perched atop an outcrop, the brown fire lizard watched them ride away.