Demontech: Gulf Run

by David Sherman

  After watching for a few minutes, Haft slid back down. Sergeant Phard went with him and waited for orders. Haft briefly described to the others what was happening. The Bloody Axes gripped the hafts of their battle-axes and waited, ready to do anything he said, even if he led them over the rise to their deaths.

  “We can’t help them,” he said. “There are simply too many Jokapcul for our number to make a difference. If they stay in the coastal flat, we’re all right. But we still need to find out if anybody is using that track.” He shuddered. He hated to leave those soldiers to their fate, but he knew if they tried to help, all they would accomplish was to increase the number killed by the Jokapcul—and reduce the number of fighters available to defend the thousands of refugees who had given themselves to his and Spinner’s care. “We’re going to follow the track for another mile, then head back.”

  The Skraglanders nodded; they understood. Little more than half an hour later they were back at the Eikby-Dartmutt road. The caravan wasn’t there. Neither were the horses they’d left behind.

  “Here, Sir Haft,” Farkas said. “They went west.”

  Haft trotted to the mouth of the road and saw the wagon tracks and hoofprints that bent out of the road and headed west.

  “Then we follow them,” he said. He glanced toward Dartmutt. “But we stay inside the trees.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  The thousands of people, men, women, children, oldsters, who were camped south of Dartmutt’s walls were slow to realize the city was under attack from the Gulf. At first only those closest to the shore could see the sea battle raging at the harbor’s mouth—and only a few of them happened to be looking in the right direction to see it. None of those who did look immediately realized what the pyrotechnics they saw were; signals perhaps. When they realized the growing flames were ships on fire, they became uneasy. They still didn’t know it was a sea battle, they thought perhaps an accident had befallen a ship or two. Still, some of them began drifting away from the water’s edge, either deeper into the masses of people or north or south into the farmland.

  Those who went north or south at first thought they had to evade the patrols that were charging toward them, the patrols put out to protect the farms from the refugees. When the patrols passed by, the north- or southbound refugees became frightened and looked again at the harbor mouth. Now, frightened as they were, they saw a battle where before they had seen what they’d hoped were signals or an accident. Without thinking things through, they began running. Not running anywhere in particular, simply running from where they were. It didn’t occur to any of the runners to wonder how or for how long they could survive without any of the things they left behind.

  The refugees who went deeper into the mass of people were simply accepted by those they passed as elements of the constantly moving, milling mass and it caused no undue consternation, though a couple of fights broke out with other refugees whose nerves were already frayed to the breaking point. Being densely surrounded by other nerve-frayed refugees calmed most of those who moved from the unsettling sight at the mouth of the harbor. When troops of cavalry rushing to the defense of the city forced their way through the crowds, well, rough treatment by rude soldiers was just something the refugees had learned to put up with, and most of them failed to realize anything was amiss.

  It wasn’t long before the sea battle was over and a hundred coast huggers sped to the piers and quays that lined the harbor before the city’s sea wall and twenty Jokapcul swordsmen jumped from each. Most of the Jokapcul immediately assaulted the Dartmutter soldiers and refugee soldiers who were hastily assembling at the wall’s foot. Two or three hundred Jokapcul raced to the northeast corner of the city walls to intercept reinforcing Dartmutter cavalry coming from that direction. An equal number headed directly to the southeast corner. Finally, the refugees closest to the shore realized what was happening and began a panicked flight. They fled the defenders as much as the attackers.

  Arrows rained down on the Jokapcul from the cantilevered battlements above and from the towers at the wall’s corners, while the defenders on the ground were protected by the overhang, but more of the arrows glanced off the Jokapcul armor or stuck in the stiff leather than penetrated to injure. The caldrons of boiling oil that were emptied onto the attackers had more effect. At the north- and southeast corners, the Jokapcul dispatched to intercept reinforcements crowded under the overhang and were mostly protected from boiling oil. However, they weren’t protected from arrow fire from the towers. For a short while it looked like the assault was doomed to failure.

  Ten of the coast huggers backed off from the quays and piers; they carried the large demon spitters that had sunk most of the galleys that screened the harbor mouth. The demon spitter crews positioned their weapons so the flanged back ends of the tubes were out over the water then angled the tubes to fire high, pelting the crenellations atop the walls. The merlons were weakened with each strike, until they burst, violently throwing chunks of rock about, injuring or killing the soldiers firing arrows or pouring oil onto the attackers. That gave the eight catapults on the sea wall’s battlements and two to the north and two more to the west the angle they needed to fling rocks at the coast huggers—they sank two of the demon-spitter coast huggers before they were all knocked out. Half of the demon spitters returned their attention to the archers and oil-boilers, while the others blasted the wall just above the heads of the combatants on the ground.

  Reinforcing cavalry troops began arriving at the north- and southeast corners, and the intercepting Jokapcul spread out to meet them. The cavalry was joined by some of the refugee soldiers who charged forward on foot. Most of the Jokapcul avoided the charging horses and chopped or thrust their swords at the cavalrymen or disemboweled their mounts. The surviving cavalrymen swung furiously, hewing off limbs and liberating large volumes of blood and gore. The first waves of cavalry were quickly dispatched, but many of the charging horses evaded the enemy weapons and slammed into the Jokapcul, knocking them down like ten pins and trampling them before falling themselves. When the second waves arrived, they faced fewer Jokapcul and killed a larger number before they were themselves killed. The third waves finished off the screening Jokapcul and waited for the fourth waves before they charged into the main force.

  Most of the refugees were in panic. Some tried to climb the city walls, but found no purchase on the stone. Many huddled together, crying, seeking safety in mounds of protective bodies. A few hundred jumped into the harbor and attempted to swim to safety. Those who climbed aboard the Jokapcul craft were swiftly killed and thrown back to feed the fish and crabs. Several merchantmen and fishing boats capsized because too many swimmers scrabbled for their decks. But most of the refugees ran aimlessly hither and yon in wide-eyed panic. Few of the runners bothered to pick up more than a few random goods; a very few staggered under so much weight they couldn’t advance faster than a stumbling shamble.

  When the victorious army from the goat-field battle swarmed out of the forest, it fell upon the refugees in the farms south of the city. None of them survived, not even the refugee soldiers who tried to fight. Then the Jokapcul headed for the refugees fleeing west.

  Spinner and the Prince’s Swords who came with him skidded to a stop just shy of where the southwest road emptied into the farmland. The sound of running footsteps spun him to face the trees on his right and snapped his quarterstaff into position, ready to fight.

  “Spinner!”

  “Haft!”

  Haft broke from the trees and stopped, facing Spinner. Spinner suddenly grinned and stepped forward to embrace his friend.

  “Haft, I was afraid we’d lost you!”

  “Lost me? Never! Why would you think that?”

  “There was a fight beyond the trees. I was afraid you’d come across it and tried to help. But the Dartmutter cause was hopeless.”

  Haft pulled back and gave Spinner an odd look. “Yes, that fight was hopeless. We,” he waved at the Bloody Axes with h
im, “couldn’t help our people if we joined that fight and died. Anyway, we were a reconnaissance patrol, fighting wasn’t our job. We had to find out if anyone was coming our way and bring back a report.” He looked at the Jokapcul ravening the refugees on the farmland. “They missed us and got them.”

  Alyline joined them and, after a quick glance at Haft, studied the farmland. “We can’t stay here,” she announced.

  They all looked at the slaughter beyond. Then a great gout of dust rose from the city’s seaside wall, and about ten seconds later a growing rumble reached them.

  “They’ve breached the wall,” Spinner said softly.

  The Jokapcul in the farmland had finished slaughtering the refugees. Now they raced toward the city’s east wall, to pour through the broken wall and take the city. The surviving refugees to the west, and even more survivors to the north, continued to stream away from the city.

  “What manner of demon spitter are they using?” Haft murmured. Whatever it was, it was far more powerful than the one he carried.

  The two watched for a few moments longer, with the Prince’s Swords arrayed behind Spinner and the Bloody Axes around Haft. They all ignored the Golden Girl’s urgings to leave.

  What Spinner and Haft watched differed from the invasion of the freeport of New Bally, where they’d had to escape a city held by the Jokapcul. In New Bally, the Jokapcul had killed all who resisted them, and hanged one out of ten soldiers and seamen of a score of nations to cow the rest. Here, they didn’t have to escape from within Jokapcul lines, but find a way to lead more than two and a half thousand people safely away. However, the Jokapcul in Dartmutt engaged in wanton slaughter of civilians, which they hadn’t in New Bally.

  Spinner finally reacted to the insistent tugging on his arm and turned to Alyline. “Yes,” he said absently. “We must leave. Let’s see if Jatke has found a back way out. Or maybe Veduci knows this land and knows a way.”

  Jatke showed up a few minutes after they got back to the boulder-strewn area where the refugees were hidden.

  “Lord Spinner, Lord Haft!” the chief hunter gleefully called to them. “Look what I found!”

  Jatke strode rapidly toward them. Behind him two other hunters hustled along a richly garbed, obviously terrified man.

  “Who is he?” both Marines asked.

  “He babbled when we caught him, so I couldn’t understand him. But the way he’s dressed, I think he’s some kind of functionary in the earl’s court.”

  “Oh?”

  Haft cocked his head at the man. “An important man?”

  “Look at how he’s dressed.”

  “Where’s Plotniko?” Spinner asked.

  “I’m here,” the carpenter said, coming up.

  “Ask him who he is and what he’s doing out here.”

  Plotniko spoke to the frightened man, who indicated with gestures that he didn’t understand, then Plotniko asked again. When the man still didn’t reply, Haft caressed the spike that backed the half-moon blade of his axe and stepped close.

  “If you don’t need your tongue, I’m sure we’ve got a dog that would like it,” he said in his best harbor Zobran.

  Haft’s best harbor Zobran was good enough. The man started talking so fast his words had trouble getting out past each other.

  “Slow down,” Plotniko said in the Dartmutter dialect, patting the air. “Take a deep breath and start again.”

  It took a couple of tries, but the man breathed deeply and began speaking less rapidly. Haft turned to hide a smile and moved a few steps away. “He understood me well enough,” he said in an aside to Spinner.

  Spinner nodded but didn’t take his attention from the man.

  Plotniko and the Dartmutter exchanged words, more from Plotniko, reluctantly from the man, then Plotniko said, “He says his name is bal Stanga, that he’s a minor functionary in the castle.” He looked back at the man. “As richly as he’s dressed, I think he’s more than a ’minor’ functionary. He says he was just out for a ride, enjoying the fine day.” He shook his head. “But he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell me where his horse is.” He snorted. “Or explain why he’s not dressed for riding.” Indeed, the blue and red brocade robe the man wore hung like a dress and was far too stiff to allow him to straddle a horse.

  “Ask him,” Jatke interjected, “if he was riding with the wagons and soldiers we saw parked along the road a quarter mile north of here.”

  “Wagons?” Alyline exclaimed.

  “Soldiers?” Haft yelped.

  “What soldiers?” Spinner demanded.

  “My apologies, Lord Spinner, Lord Haft.” Jatke bowed. “He was just inside the forest, watching the Jokapcul enter the city, when we found him. But before that we followed a track north from here to where it met another road. Six heavily laden wagons were pulled under the trees and the horses tethered on a picket line. Several tents were set up. A small guard of soldiers, maybe twenty of them, guarded the wagons and people—they weren’t very alert. We followed the road and found him alone at the edge of the trees.”

  “What people?” Alyline interrupted. “Tell me about them.”

  “I saw about a dozen, mostly women with a few children, but there may have been more in the tents. They wore travel cloaks and could have been any travelers, but flashes of fine garments under the hems of the robes made me think they are the families of wealthy merchants or, more likely, courtiers.”

  “How long have they been there?” Spinner asked.

  “Not long,” Jatke said. “Probably only a few hours. The ground wasn’t as much disturbed as it would be had they camped there for long.”

  Spinner nodded and looked at Plotniko. “Ask him about them.”

  Before Plotniko finished his question, bal Stanga raised his hands and face to the sky and wailed. He dropped to his knees and nearly fell when the stiff brocade didn’t fold as quickly as his knees did. He hid his face in his hands and burbled into them. Plotniko squatted, put a comforting hand on his shoulder and spoke in a reassuring tone. After a couple of moments bal Stanga lifted his tear-stained face from his hands and started talking.

  Plotniko chuckled when the man finally stopped. “He asked if we were going to kill him. It took a bit to assure him, but then he started telling me about the travelers. He says they’re the earl’s family and a few retainers. The earl sent them out of the city this morning so they would have a chance to escape if the Jokapcul came.”

  Haft snorted. “Where did he think they could go to the southwest? The Jokapcul have everything in that direction.”

  Plotniko asked, then translated the answer. “They came this way so none of the refugees would think they were fleeing. Some miles to the west, that road intercepts a trade road between upper Zobra and the Low Desert. They are to follow it north. The earl has friends in the Low Desert who he believes will care for them.”

  Haft snorted. “Typical aristocrats. Sneak around to save themselves and leave the common folk to be slaughtered.” Nobody replied; most agreed and didn’t think it needed to be said.

  Spinner thought for a moment. “I think we need to talk to them,” he said abruptly. “Who is the highest ranking person in that party?”

  Plotniko asked bal Stanga, then said, “He is.”

  “He’s only a minor functionary, yet he’s higher ranking than anyone in the earl’s family?” Haft said in mock surprise.

  The master carpenter gestured at the brocaded robe. “Chamberlain, majordomo. Someone important,” he said dryly.

  Spinner looked around. Fletcher stood nearby watching, as did the two groups of soldiers who had gone with them to the east.

  “Haft, get the Royal Lancers and Blood Swords. We’ll take them along with the Bloody Axes and Prince’s Swords to visit these Dartmutters. I’m sure their wagons have things we can use. Fletcher, stay here and see to the defense.”

  “Turning bandit, are we?” Alyline asked acidly.

  Spinner looked at her levelly. “The people are welcome to come wi
th us. If they choose not to, they probably won’t need their goods for very long anyway. Would you rather the Jokapcul took their possessions along with their lives, possessions we could put to good use?”

  She turned her back on him and angrily crossed her arms under her breasts.

  “Plotniko, you come too—and bring bal Stanga.”

  Haft quickly returned with the soldiers Spinner wanted and they moved out. Spinner knew better than to tell Alyline to stay behind.

  Captain bal Ofursti of the Earl’s Guard paced twenty yards along the road, spun about, paced back twenty yards, spun and paced again. His red cloak flopped out behind him, exposing a cerulean-blue jerkin and trousers and the bits of armor that covered his chest and shins; a saber with a finely wrought basket hilt banged in its filigreed scabbard against his thigh as he paced. His eyes were fixed on the ground a man’s length before his feet, his hands clasped tightly behind his back under the cloak.

  He muttered as he paced, cursing the fate that had him nursemaiding the earl’s whores and their get. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of soldiers from broken armies among the refugee masses camped outside Dartmutt’s walls. He and his men should be there, he thought, organizing those soldiers into a proper fighting force, able to take on the Jokapcul when they arrived—and they would arrive, no doubt of that. But no, the earl sent him away with his concubines and their sprats and maids-in-waiting and—and that popinjay, that court butler bal Stanga. That man was good for nothing but looking important and announcing the names of supplicants seeking audience with the earl. Why, he wasn’t even significant enough to announce important visitors! Take them to Wuzzlefump, or whatever his name was, that Low Desert bandit chief the earl was foolish enough to count as friend. Fuzzlewump will care for them until I can send for them, the earl insisted.