Hope of Earth

by Piers Anthony

  The raiders kept coming, shouting battle oaths in their own foreign language. That was another sign of their ragtag status; well disciplined Spartan phalanxes often marched silently into battle, not wasting energy. These brutes had little respect for a party of two, especially when one was a fearful woman and the other had the appearance of a stripling boy. They probably expected the boy to prostrate himself and beg for mercy—which he wouldn’t get. Stripling boys were preferred by some men to women, and would be treated similarly. Also, a prime means of acquiring slaves was by capturing them in battle, so they might have a continuing use for a stripling.

  When the raiders were close enough to see that the boy had his bow aimed, they paused. Then the two bowmen laughed and unslung their bows. They thought this would be easy.

  They were well within range. Jes pictured them in her mind as dangerous animals, and loosed the first arrow. It caught one bowman in the chest, a perfect shot. He went down immediately.

  Glorious! Jes realized that her fear had left her. She was now a cold fighting machine, doing what she had to do. She was also relieved that these were not first line troops, because their armor would have turned her arrow.

  The second raider got off one arrow before she could properly aim her second. But his missed her. The key to success was to take time to aim, and to have one’s mind completely clear. She loosed her second as the man was standing, trying to see the effect of his own arrow. He was criminally stupid, and he paid for it by taking her arrow in his stomach. He wasn’t dead, but he would be in time.

  The three others, realizing the danger in separation, charged forward. They were stupid, but not cowards. They were lifting their long spears and shields. The only good defense against arrow fire was a shield; only drunkenness and overconfidence explained their vulnerability to her first attack.

  “Now!” Jes said, running off the road.

  Wona screamed on cue, and her robe fell open to reveal her fine breasts. She fluffed out her long hair, looking extremely feminine. She wasn’t good for much, but she was excellent at appearances.

  The three charging men exchanged shouts. Then two ran off the road, pursuing Jes, while one continued directly toward Wona. Good; they were separating.

  Jes ran, not too fast. The two men gained, sure of their quarry. She glanced back. The third man caught up to Wona, whose breasts were flouncing like her hair. “Now!” Jes screamed again.

  Then Jes whirled on the two, bringing her bow about, with its loosely nocked arrow. She aimed as she drew back the string.

  Caught by surprise, both men reacted in phenomenally stupid fashion: they came to a sudden halt, staring.

  Jes loosed at point-blank range. The arrow transfixed the larger man’s chest, and he was done for. She felt another surge of battle glee.

  The last man hurled his spear, belatedly. His arm was good, but Jes had anticipated it, and was already moving out of the way and turning sideways to present a narrower target. It missed her, but the man was already almost upon her. There was no time for another arrow.

  But she had dropped her bow as she dodged, and was reaching for her knife. She brought it up.

  The man paused again, and this time not stupidly. He was, after all, a soldier, accustomed to combat. His own thrusting dagger was in his hand, and it was a monster, far larger than Jes’s knife. In fact it was a short sword.

  Jes’s eyes widened. So did her mouth. Clear dismay gutted her courage. She started to turn to flee.

  “Haa!” the man cried, thrusting the sword straight at her. She smelled wine on his breath, and saw the slightly clumsy manner of his attack. He was pretty well inebriated, and that was her great fortune. Her odds would have been much worse against fully prepared troops.

  Jes was already dodging back and turning again. The thrust missed to the front as she stepped sideways into him. Her small blade came around and caught him in the throat. “Fool!” she muttered as he went down in blood. He had fallen for one of the elementary ploys: fake fright.

  She swept up her bow and turned back toward the road. One figure stood; one lay on the ground. Had Wona been dispatched? Then the figure waved, showing its bare bosom.

  Jes ran back to the road. The man lay groaning, the knife still in his chest. Wona was in tears and hysterical. As Jes stepped onto the road, Wona almost leaped at her, flinging her arms around her. “I did it! I did it!” she sobbed. “Just as you showed me. It was awful!”

  Jes held her, understanding. She herself had trained for exactly this type of encounter, but she had never killed a man before. Now she had killed four. The sheer need for action had prevented her from realizing its significance, but now that it was done, her battle mindset was fading, and she was shaking.

  She realized with surprise that Wona was providing her with comfort she needed. They were comforting each other. She had never anticipated that. She had never been Wona’s friend. She still wasn’t. But for this instant, they needed each other. The horror of the killing each had done was overwhelming. Now, perhaps, they had a kind of understanding. Because they had both just been blooded.

  But it couldn’t last, and not just because Jes was no man to hold a woman like this. She pulled back, nerving herself for what else had to be done. “There may be others. We must get away from here.”

  “Others!” Wona exclaimed, realizing the continuing danger. Her fair bosom heaved. “Yes—we must go. But what of—?” She looked down at the fallen man.

  “You’re right. We must recover the knife. Help me roll him over.” Jes knew that wasn’t what Wona meant, but they had to be practical.

  They both leaned down to take hold of the raider. Jes glanced across at Wona, noting how her bared breasts hung down in a manner Jes’s never would. She could almost appreciate the effect such a sight would have on a man. No wonder this lout had not seen the knife that stabbed him.

  As the body rolled over, the knife came into view. Wona had done it right, thrusting hard for the gut and jamming upward. She had scored through the cloth tunic, which fortunately did not cover a metal scale shirt, as it would have in a better appointed warrior. The point had not reached the heart, but had done plenty of damage to the gut. He would die in agony.

  She took hold of the hilt and wrenched it out. The man groaned again, and blood welled out of the gash in his belly. Wona turned away, looking ill.

  “We shouldn’t leave him like this,” Jes said, feeling ill herself. “He’ll die in hours, horribly.”

  “What can we do?” Wona asked faintly.

  “We should kill him cleanly.”

  “I can’t!”

  “I’ll do it,” Jes said. “It’s my job.”

  She leaned over the man, bringing the gore-stained knife to his throat. His eyes opened, and he gazed at her.

  Her hand shook. Her arm became paralyzed. “I can’t,” she said, echoing Wona. “Not when he’s not attacking me.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. Then, suddenly, his hand came up. It slapped against Wona’s knee, making her gasp. It reached up toward Jes.

  Jes slashed the blade across his throat, cutting it gapingly open. Bright blood gouted out, soaking his neck. Jes leaped back, horrified at what her triggered battle reflex had made her do. But he was already done for.

  Belatedly, she realized that the man had had the courage she lacked. He had acted to make her react, so that he could have a quick death. He was an enemy, a criminal, who had come to grief stupidly, but in the end he had shown a quality to be respected.

  “You died bravely,” she said, in a kind of benediction. That, oddly, made her feel better. Then, to Wona: “Now we must go.”

  Wona nodded, not looking. Jes wiped the blade on the ground several times until it was almost clean, then handed it to the other woman. She might need it again.

  They left the man there and walked on along the road. After a few steps, Wona took Jes’s hand, and Jes did not protest. All they had for the moment to stave off the numbness of the killings was each other
.

  They passed the other two men, the bowmen. Jes hesiated, then stopped to take one of their bows. “Can you use one of these?”

  “No.”

  “Carry it anyway. And the quiver of arrows. I may need a spare. And we’d better get their knives, too.”

  They took one knife, but then the other man groaned. Both women stood and hurried away, unspeaking.

  They had hardly gotten out of sight of the bodies before there was a sound behind them. Was one of the victims recovering?

  “More raiders!” Wona cried, spying the glint of spears. “Three, four!”

  They were in for it. They should have hurried away the moment the last man was down, instead of dawdling as they had. This party must have been coming behind them, expecting to rendezvous with the party moving east. “Run!” Jes said. “That walled town can’t be far.”

  They ran, fright giving them energy. They left the new party behind, because the raiders were checking their fallen associates. But Jes knew their respite would be brief.

  It was. In moments there was a cry of outrage, and the sound of pursuit.

  To Jes’s surprise, they kept their lead. Maybe they were fresher than the raiders, who might have been pillaging all day, or maybe desperation accounted for it. Or maybe they were simply more accustomed to running. Jes had always had excellent physical endurance. But Wona—what of her?

  As if triggered by that thought, Wona’s endurance faded. She was gasping. They had to stop.

  “You walk on ahead,” Jes told her, slowing to a walk herself. “I’ll deal with these.” She brought her bow around.

  “No, I had better stay with you,” Wona gasped.

  “You can’t help me, and you could get caught yourself. Go on, get ahead while you can.”

  “I’m not being noble,” Wona said. “I’m not that kind of person. If something happens to you, I’m helpless, so there’s no point in my going ahead.”

  The woman was giving a sensible, selfish reason. Therefore it was suspect. “Is that true?” Jes asked her.

  “No. I—I find I like you, to my surprise, and I want to help. If I can.”

  Jes felt an astonishing surge of gratitude. Wona was showing support and courage. But Jes covered her reaction with bruskness, knowing that this was no time to be sentimental. “Then turn with me, and bring about your bow as if you can use it. Maybe we can back them off.”

  “Yes!”

  They stopped and turned together. The men behind were coming rapidly. There were four, and all had bows. If they couldn’t be bluffed, this was likely to be the end.

  “Imitate my action, but don’t loose your arrow,” Jes said.

  “I can’t even draw it back,” Wona said. “I will pretend I’m holding the string.”

  Jes aimed carefully. As the men came to the fringe of bowshot range, they stopped. Evidently they had seen the arrows in the slain men, so knew there was a competent archer here. They were consulting with each other. That was stupid on their part; they should have charged in without hesitation. Some archers were more accurate than others, at the edge of their range, if given time to aim. They were giving her time.

  Jes loosed her arrow when she saw their attention was distracted. That prevented them from seeing her shot, so they did not take evasive action. The arrow struck the largest of the four raiders, and he staggered and fell.

  Beside her, Wona held up her bow and drew back her arm, slowly. The three remaining men scrambled back out of range.

  Jes smiled. “See—they respect you. But there may be more coming up behind them. We had better walk, as long as they let us.”

  They turned and walked. For a time the men did not pursue, not realizing their advantage. Three against one would surely prevail, but they thought it was three against two—and that the two were expert. Obviously these men were rough and tumble archers, whose accuracy was indifferent.

  The sun was declining. They had perhaps another hour of daylight. Then they could either hide in the dark, or gain the protection of the walled settlement. If the raiders gave them time.

  The raiders did not. Two of the men gathered themselves and charged forward, spears raised. The third kneeled to take proper aim with his bow, covering them, before joining the chase himself.

  “I can take out one more,” Jes said, turning. “Then it will be hand to hand. Do your thing.” She dreaded this, because she lacked the brute strength of a man. These raiders would not again underestimate the strength of the opposition.

  “First I’ll fire an arrow,” Wona said, making her pretense with the bow.

  “As soon as I fire, throw yourself to the side,” Jes said. She aimed more rapidly than she liked, and loosed her arrow. “Now!”

  They hurled themselves to either side of the road. Just in time, for the arrow thudded into the ground behind them. Jes wasn’t sure whether it would have struck either of them, but it certainly was possible.

  One raider stumbled. She had gotten him on the leg. Well, that was better than nothing; she could readily have missed.

  The other two paused to help their companion. That was their mistake, because they weren’t following up their opportunity to get to close quarters. Praise the gods for the errors these brutes kept making!

  “Stand and aim!” Jes cried.

  She and Wona took the road again and presented their bows. The raiders retreated, dragging their comrade. They thought the odds were now even, and they had no stomach for that. What a stroke of luck!

  “Now we can walk again,” Jes said. “They have given up.”

  “Thank Zeus!”

  “Better to thank Artemis, the huntress. She protects archers—and maidens.” She made a sarcastic gesture at Wona.

  They walked swiftly away. “I must learn to use a bow,” Wona said.

  “It takes muscle, and years.”

  “You showed me how to use the knife, and it saved my life. What other weapon can I learn?”

  Jes considered. “Maybe the light club. A fast stroke can set a man back, even knock him out. If he has a knife, you can hit his knife hand before he can stab you. It’s less deadly than a knife, but more versatile when there is more than one enemy. It won’t get stuck in someone’s gut.”

  “The light club,” Wona agreed.

  As evening came, they spied the wall of the settlement. They had made it!

  But as they approached, men appeared above the ramparts. They had bows aimed.

  “They think we’re raiders!” Jes cried in dismay.

  “But we wear Delian apparel.”

  “We could have stolen it from people we killed. Not that Delian differs much from any other everyday clothing in Greece. But they can see we’re not armored or fully armed. They’re being ornery.”

  “Then now must be the time to do my thing.” Wona stood up straight and opened her robe ais she flounced out her hair.

  There was a pause. Then a hand beckoned. They walked forward, though several bows remained trained on them. They stopped before the main gate, which remained closed.

  “Who are you?” a man, evidently an officer, called from above, while the bowmen stared avidly at Wona’s open bosom.

  “Wona from Euboea, traveling with my brother Jes,” Wona answered. “We have encountered raiders, and seek safety for the night.”

  “I don’t think so,” the man replied. “Go your way.”

  “But the raiders are behind us!” Wona cried.

  “Exactly. They can’t force the gate, so they want to get an infiltrator inside to do it for them, at night. It’s an old Spartan trick. We are not deceived.”

  “But we’re Delians! We had to kill raiders to get here.”

  “Of course,” the man said, with rich irony. “Like the Gorgon, you stunned them to death with your aspect.” The bowmen laughed uproariously.

  Furious, Wona closed her robe. There was a murmur of dismay from the wall.

  “Now go,” the officer said. “In deference to your beauty, we are letting you and y
our brother depart alive. But don’t test our patience; we are already on edge because of being besieged. My men will kill you if I give the order. That would be a shame.”

  “But the siege is over!” Jes protested.

  “So you say.” He lifted his hand as if to signal the archers.

  “It’s no good,” Jes murmured. “They think we’re spies.”

  “Then we must go.” Wona opened her robe to give them one more flash, then closed it and turned away.

  Jes smiled. Wona had just made the defenders regret their decision. How could they know what might have been, had she been admitted? The town could have admitted two stragglers without serious risk, but evidently the officer was a martinet more interested in asserting his authority than in anyone’s convenience. Now their situation was bleak. Had the raiders known they would be suspected? So there was no hurry to catch them? ‘

  “We’ll have to hide in the hills, in the darkness,” Jes said. “At least we have the night.”

  “At least,” Wona agreed bitterly.

  They made their way south, where they found a burial ground. “This is good,” Jes decided. “They won’t bother us here.”

  “But there are evil spirits!”

  “No, there are honest Delian spirits,” Jes said firmly. “They will protect us, not harm us.”

  Wona seemed doubtful, but she was even more tired than Jes, so acquiesced. “I hope so.”

  They ate the last of their food, attended to natural functions, and lay down among the burial markers to sleep. But though they were weary, sleep did not come immediately. Too much had happened, of too much significance. When Jes closed her eyes, she saw the bodies of the men she had killed. How many had there been? Seven, she thought. It was sickening.

  “Why do you hate me?” Wona asked.

  This was a ploy to make her deny it. So she resisted. “You don’t work enough, you made a fool of Sam, and another of Ned.”

  “It is true. It is my nature. I envy you yours.”

  Jes was startled. “Me?”

  “You are strong and honest and courageous.”

  “You value these things?”