Demontech: Gulf Run

by David Sherman

  You go that way, I’ll go this, Birdwhistle said, using hand signals. Tracker nodded and they parted.

  They passed the unwary sentries at a great enough distance to be unseen even if they walked erect in the open. But they walked neither erect nor in the open—they were wraiths, invisibly slipping through what shadows there were.

  More than fifty yards beyond the sentries, growing noises came from the other side of a thicket of oddly segmented, reedlike trees that would bar passage to most men. But Birdwhistle wasn’t most men, he was a Zobran Border Warder, a former poacher, a man whose life had always depended on never being detected as he moved about patrolled royal preserves. He edged into the thicket, leaving almost no sign of his passage. The thicket wasn’t large, barely more than twenty yards wide and half that deep—and it was hollow. Two yards inside, the ground was almost clear, with reasonable shade cast by a canopy of slender leafs that sprouted from the upper portions of the reedlike trees. He darted to the far side of the hollow and flattened himself on the ground to slither between the close-packed trunks that made the thicket unpassable to most men. His body lengthed into it, he stopped and looked at a sight that froze his blood.

  Three Jokapcul magicians sat in a semicircle facing the thicket. Between them and it hunkered several demons. One of the demons was a bedraggled Lalla Mkouma, another was a troll. Birdwhistle didn’t recognize the others. He couldn’t understand the words the magicians barked and growled at the demons but, curiously, he was able to make out what the demons said in reply. The magicians also seemed to understand the demons, though they didn’t speak in the barks and growls of the Jokapcul tongue.

  "Why zhud ee?" demanded a slight, man-shaped demon with ebon skin when a magician finished speaking.

  "Naw likuu!" the Lalla Mkouma piped, with a flounce of her hair.

  A large demon with massive shoulders, wearing a cloth wrapped around its head and a vest stretched to bursting by the bulging muscles of its back, growled threateningly when one of the magicians made to strike at the Lalla Mkouma. The magician swallowed and put his hands down.

  Another magician barked and growled, flicking an oxtail whisk in time with his words.

  A very large, shaggy, black dog morphed into human shape when that magician finished and snarled, "Ziz naw ooze vorst. Oo naw tellum ee doo ere!" then briefly morphed into a low-lying cloud before returning to its shaggy dog shape.

  "Naw likuu!" the Lalla Mkouma piped again. The magician who had made to strike her before glanced at the very large demon that had threatened him and satisfied himself with glaring at her.

  The first magician spoke again, then listened intently to the slender, black, little-man demon.

  "Ee ead whatch ee whanns!" the smallish demon declared haughtily.

  The second magician then spoke at fair length. The demons looked at each other when he finished and seemed to sag.

  The black dog resumed human shape long enough to say, "Ee gottum boint," then rotated through cloud back to dog.

  The third magician, silent until now, grinned wickedly and held up an open tin of pellets. He doled them out to the demons. All but the Lalla Mkouma bolted them down and held their hands out for more. The Lalla Mkouma turned her back on the magicians after receiving her one pellet and said, "Ztill naw likuu."

  Birdwhistle did not dare even to breathe; the miniature woman seemed to be looking right at him. She smiled around the pellet she nibbled on and winked, then flipped her hair and turned her head away. He slithered back as quickly as he could without making a noise that would give him away.

  Ten minutes later he found Tracker, who was looking for him. They hurried away, intending to move to a safe distance from the Jokapcul before exchanging what they’d found. Before they had a chance to tell each other what they’d seen, they ran into Geshio, the Royal Lancer that Lieutenant Guma had sent to find them. Geshio was on foot, having left his horse a quarter mile back. They sped back to the point squad with their report while the Royal Lancer continued looking for other members of the squad.

  The caravan was stopped a half mile behind the point squad. Company A was arrayed in battle formation across the caravan’s front. Company B was strung out along the south side. The less experienced and ready Company C screened the rear, while Sergeant Rammer drilled Company D to the north—the direction from which he and Spinner thought attack was least likely. Silent and Wolf patrolled the road and forest to the rear to give warning of anyone coming from behind.

  Spinner waited with the point squad, along with Fletcher, Xundoe, and Alyline. Doli seemed to be closer to her old self and hovered near Spinner. When Birdwhistle and Tracker appeared, Captain Phard mounted his horse and rode forward to join the command group.

  “Who did you leave in command?” Spinner asked when Phard reined in.

  “Corp— Lieutenant Armana.”

  Spinner nodded. He’d thought as much. He nervously returned his attention to Birdwhistle and Tracker, who arrived just then. He thought the fact they came back to report personally boded ill.

  Birdwhistle told Tracker to go first; he suspected if he gave his report first, it might be deemed so important Tracker’s wouldn’t be listened to. When he finally heard what Tracker saw, he wondered if he should have gone first.

  “There are Jokapcul on the shore,” Tracker said. “They looked like light and medium infantry. At any account, I didn’t see any horses. I was nearer the west end of their force than the east, so I couldn’t see all of them.” He took a deep breath. “But I estimate I saw half a thousand of them. There are probably more I couldn’t see from where I was.”

  “What about magicians?” Xundoe asked.

  “I didn’t see any,” Tracker replied before Birdwhistle could speak. “All I saw was the infantry, but I saw almost as many of them as we have proper soldiers, and there are probably more.”

  “What were they doing?”

  Tracker chuckled sadly. “Guarding prisoners. Soldiers.” He shook his head. “They didn’t have a proper camp set up yet, except for cages to keep the prisoners in. Or maybe they think that’s a proper camp.” He grimaced and shook his head. “The cages weren’t fit for dogs. They weren’t high enough for a man inside one to sit erect, and only as wide as they were high. A man could stretch out lengthwise in the cages, but most held three men, and they weren’t wide enough for three to lay side by side. There were rows of tents, but not enough for all the Jokapcul I saw. It seemed they were just beginning to pitch their own camp and taking their time about it. It looked almost like they were taking a rest from a long march before starting their work.”

  “What uniforms did the prisoners wear?” Spinner asked. “And how many were there?”

  “No uniforms. They wore no more than loincloths; some were altogether naked. I saw nearly as many prisoners as there were Jokapcul.” He shook his head. “It gets cold along the shore at night. I fear the cold will punish them severely.”

  “If they didn’t have uniforms, how do you know the prisoners were soldiers?” Doli asked.

  “There are signs. The way a man holds himself, how he shows the fear he feels. The way he examines his surroundings.”

  “So you’re sure?” Alyline asked skeptically.

  Tracker gave her an impatient look—of course he was sure. But before he could find the words to say so that wouldn’t be insulting, Spinner interrupted him.

  “Alyline, I can go into any city in the world where there are civilians and soldiers, all in civilian garb, and point out man by man which is a civilian, which a soldier, and be right ninety-nine times out of a hundred. More, nine times out of ten, I can tell what army they are from and what kind of unit. It’s easy when you know how.”

  Alyline cocked an unbelieving eyebrow at him, but let it go when Phard nodded and said he could as well.

  “What about weapons?” Spinner asked Tracker. “Did you see any cache or dump that might be the prisoners’ weapons?”

  Tracker shook his head. “No, lord. The
only weapons I saw were those carried by the Jokapcul.”

  Spinner considered this for a long moment; that there were Jokapcul on the beach was very bad news. He thought the caravan should continue onward without doing anything to attract their attention. On the other hand, he felt they should free the prisoners. The addition of more than five hundred soldiers would be a great boon to the survival of the caravan.

  But more than half a thousand Jokapcul … They didn’t have the strength to attack that strong a force. Besides, there were those Desert Men north of the road. What would the Desert Men do when they heard the sounds of battle along the shore? So what were they to do?

  “Did you also see Jokapcul and prisoners?” he asked Birdwhistle.

  “No, Lord Spinner,” Birdwhistle said solemnly, though he felt sheepish—Tracker’s report made his seem insignificant in comparison. “I saw magicians and demons.” He related the discussion, of which he’d heard one side—or at least as much of it as he could make sense of. He began, “There was a Lalla Mkouma—”

  “You’re sure it was a Lalla Mkouma?” Xundoe interrupted.

  Birdwhistle held one hand about a foot above the other. “A voluptuous woman-creature with very long hair, wearing a diaphanous gown.”

  Xundoe nodded. “Continue.”

  “A Lalla Mkouma, a troll—”

  “How do you know it was a troll?” the mage demanded.

  “I’ve seen one.” He held a hand just above elbow height. “It was gnarly and its skin looked like it could rasp the rust off iron.”

  Xundoe began to ask another question, but Spinner cut him off.

  “Let him finish his report, then ask questions.”

  Xundoe nodded acquiescence, and Birdwhistle gave his report without further interruption.

  “Describe the demons you didn’t know,” Xundoe asked the instant he thought Birdwhistle was finished. He nodded at the descriptions and asked questions about a few details. “The big one was a djinn, the small, ebon man-thing an exus, and the big dog was a Black Dog,” he said, nodding when his questions were answered. He looked around at the others. “They are very bad. The only good thing is, it sounds like they don’t want to work for the Jokapcul.”

  “But they have to, because there isn’t food to support them in the forest north of the Gulf,” Fletcher said.

  Xundoe made a face. “That’s what the Jokapcul want the demons to think.”

  “Is there food for them?” Spinner asked hopefully.

  Xundoe spread his hands. “I don’t know what Black Dogs and exus eat, meat I imagine. Djinn can eat anything.” He briefly lay a long finger against his cheek. “Or, actually I’m not sure djinn eat anything at all. The Elementary Demon Keeping course I took didn’t cover djinn feeding habits. Lalla Mkouma can eat anything people can eat—at least for a short while. Trolls will eat anything, including rocks.” He glanced at Spinner. “So there is food for them, or for most of them. Maybe they’re new to this world and don’t know what they can eat here?”

  “Do you think that was all the demons?” Spinner asked.

  “There probably weren’t demons of other types, except for watchers and spitters. It’s too bad Birdwhistle didn’t see them from the front.” He waved off Birdwhistle’s correction. “Yes, yes, I know you saw the Lalla Mkouma from the front. But they’re pretty independent. The others have a leader when they move in packs, and sometimes the leader wears an emblem of some sort. If you’d seen the other demons from the front, you might have seen something that would identify them as leaders. So we don’t know if the Jokapcul only have one of each kind or several.”

  Tracker was watching east during Birdwhistle’s report. He broke in to say, “Here comes Hunter,” another of the Border Warders.

  In moments, Hunter joined them, panting lightly from his long run. Geshio followed close behind on horseback.

  “Archer and I found strangers south of the road, Lord Spinner,” Hunter reported. “A war party, I believe.” He went on to describe a band similar to the Desert Men they discovered north of the road.

  “Were there women and children with them?” Alyline asked.

  “No, lady. Only men, all armed and looking ready for a fight. That’s why I think it’s a war party.”

  Geshio’s arrival headed off any other questions from the Golden Girl.

  “Did any of the other Border Warders see anything?” Spinner asked the Royal Lancer.

  “No, Lord Spinner.”

  “Did you find them all?”

  “I did.”

  That was a relief, Spinner thought. But everything was so far beyond his experience and training, he barely had a hint of where to start making plans. He needed help.

  “Guma, send runners to get the other company commanders,” he said.

  Guma immediately dispatched three lancers, one to get each of the company commanders.

  Spinner next turned to Birdwhistle and Tracker. “Go back and keep an eye on the Jokapcul. Let me know if they move—and try to get a better count of both Jokapcul and prisoners.” To Hunter, “Return to Archer, let me know if those Desert Men move or make any changes in their disposition.” And finally to Geshio, “Find the other Border Warders and tell them to stay in place and to report back if they see anybody else.” Not only did he need more information about the strangers, he was certain Rammer would also. He wished Silent and Wolf were near. They would be able to find out more about who else might be out there than anybody else, or find a route around the Jokapcul and the Desert Men. But they were ranging somewhere to the rear of the caravan, and nobody would be able to find them unless they wanted to be found. So he turned again to Guma. “Send someone to Lieutenant Jatke, tell him I need a squad of Borderers.”

  Spinner was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Phard’s nod of approval. The grizzled veteran was now more certain than ever that he’d made the right choice when he put himself and his men under the command of the two Frangerians.

  Shortly, Rammer, Geatwe, and Mearh arrived. Spinner quickly filled them in.

  “We need to know more about what’s to our north,” Rammer said, looking suspiciously in that direction. “And we need to know more about the prisoners and their guards.”

  “I’ve already sent for a squad of Borderers, and instructed Birdwhistle and Tracker to learn more.”

  Rammer turned his head and eyed Spinner for a moment. His look said that he realized he’d done a better job of training the young Marine than he had assumed. Finally, he said, “If I can think of anything you haven’t already done, I’ll let you know.”

  Spinner blanched. He didn’t think he’d thought of everything; he knew there had to be more. But if Sergeant Rammer couldn’t think of anything else … He looked to the other company commanders. None of them had any suggestions either. Rammer and the others—Phard, Geatwe, Mearh, Guma, all older men who had far more experience—seemed to think that he and Haft were doing well as commanders. He hoped they were.

  Kovasch arrived at the head of a squad of Borderers and sketched a quick salute as he jumped off his horse. “What does Lord Spinner want us to do?” he asked. From the tone of his voice, the Royal Lancer sent to get the Borderers had already given him details of why the caravan had been stopped.

  Spinner told him what they knew and what he wanted the Skraglander to find out. He looked around to see if anybody had anything to add. No one did, so he said, “Do it.”

  “Immediately, Lord Spinner.” Kovasch turned to his squad and barked, “You heard the man. Let’s go!” The Borderers would follow the tracks left by Haft and the two Royal Lancers. They’d leave their horses with theirs and head north and northeast on foot from there.

  Now the rest of them had nothing to do but wait. Everyone else looked so calm, but to Spinner, waiting was the hardest part.

  IV

  FULL FRONTAL

  ASSAULT

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  The scouts had made no attempt to avoi
d leaving tracks. To the Borderers, following them was almost like following a well-traveled road. They stopped and dismounted when they reached the three tethered horses.

  “Tether mounts,” Kovasch ordered as he looped his reins low around the trunk of a bumber tree with a knot he could undo with a simple yank. “Wait, I’ll be back. Be alert.” He followed the faint traces of men’s footprints to where Haft had the Desert Men under observation. His men tethered their horses, mindful as Kovasch had been to leave them where they could reach grazing. They were well-trained and disciplined, they didn’t need to be told to pair off and form a defensive perimeter once their horses were seen to.

  When Kovasch reached the place where the footprints turned and disappeared behind the fan tree into the rocks, he stopped and chortled the call of an oriole common in both Skragland and Zobra, but foreign to the north coast of Princedon Gulf. He knew Border Warders would recognize the call and immediately know someone was signaling them; he didn’t know that about Haft and the lancers. He positioned himself where someone who had gone beyond the fan tree could see him. After a moment he moved at an angle, so he could see partway around the fan tree without getting close to it, and chortled the call again.

  He saw a flash of blue—the color of the Royal Lancers’ surcoat—and an arm stuck out and waved him forward. He entered the U and found Naedre alone. The lancer touched finger to lips and, as soon as Kovasch nodded, disappeared into a hole in the eastern rock face. A moment later Haft came out of the hole and gave the same finger-to-lips signal before signaling him to follow. He went back into the hole. Kovasch followed.

  The Borderer leader saw the Desert Men lounging along the stream, no women or children and no weapons ready, just as he’d heard. After a few minutes Haft tapped his shoulder and they left the observation point. Haft led the way out of the rocks to where they could speak quietly.