Draggah

by Toby Neighbors

  “I can read them,” Tiberius said. “I might be able to find a way to reverse things.”

  “How do you know she even wants to reverse the changes she’s going through? She doesn’t seem unhappy when she’s awake.”

  “She could be turning into a tree, Lexi. We can’t sit back and let that happen.”

  “I just don’t like the idea of you getting in over your head with magic. It makes me nervous.”

  “I’m not going to do anything I can’t handle,” he said.

  Lexi just laughed. Sometimes she thought Tiberius was so arrogant. Of course he didn’t think he would do anything bad with magic, or that he might possibly get hurt. He was the Earl’s son, and she doubted if he’d ever been scolded for doing something wrong in his whole life. She wanted to say something that would hurt him, something that would make him realize he was just as fallible as anyone else, but she didn’t. She knew that his magic had been helpful on their journey, and that her real reason for not wanting to go to Sparlan Citadel had very little to do with magic.

  “I trust you, Ti,” she said quietly, resisting the urge to keep him at arm’s length. “I just don’t want you to have anything to do with Princess Ariel again.”

  Tiberius looked at her, and even in the darkness she could see that he finally understood.

  “She’s a cruel woman,” Tiberius said. “We’ll have to tread carefully around her.”

  “Or we could just stay here,” Lexi said. “We don’t have to return to one of the cities.”

  “You really think you’d be happy living in the wilderness for the rest of your life?”

  “Isn’t that what you were proposing just a few weeks ago? You wanted to hide in the forest, remember, and you thought I would come with you then.”

  “I was a fool,” Tiberius said. “Naive.”

  “I just don’t want us to do anything that we’ll regret.”

  “Me either,” Tiberius said, looking down at Olyva. “That’s why I think I have to help her if I can.”

  Lexi shook her head and walked back toward the fire. She was drawn to the light of the fire at night just like everyone else, even though she felt vulnerable and exposed. Still, the fire was warm and cheerful. It made her feel as if her fears were unfounded.

  “I better go check on things,” Tiberius said quietly from behind her.

  She nodded, but didn’t look back. She heard him walking away and couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see him again.

  Chapter 22

  Rafe

  Rafe wished there was just a little starlight. He hated the fact that he couldn’t see what was coming. The Rogu were convinced that the tribe they had seen approaching by Tiberius’ magical light was still coming to attack them, but the opposing tribe still had the advantage of surprise because no one knew where or when the attack would come.

  Everyone agreed that it seemed unlikely that the raiders would continue to attack from the side where they had been seen earlier in the night. Still, the Rogu couldn’t risk leaving no men on the far side of the camp. The tribe’s hunters and warriors were spread out in a long line surrounding the camp. Each man had a club, a knife of some sort, and a small horn. Once the battle began, the Rogu would sound their horns to alert the tribe.

  “Waiting is the hardest part,” Rafe said. “I wish they’d attack us already.”

  “You’re a strange person,” Tiberius said.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Sure I do,” Tiberius said. “But I would rather they didn’t attack at all, or at least do us the kindness of waiting until daylight so we can see who we’re fighting.”

  Rafe hefted the club he’d been given. He preferred to fight with his rapier and shield, but the Hoskali didn’t want the attackers killed. Rafe couldn’t understand that. Anyone who threatened the people he cared about forfeited any mercy he might have had. But, he could wield the club as skillfully as the Rogu, and he would use it or any other weapon to beat back the attack on the Hoskali tribe who had taken him in. It was his home, at least for now, and he would defend it zealously.

  Rafe preferred to walk around the perimeter of the camp. He was tired, but he was also excited by the prospect of combat. He knew he would struggle to stay awake if he stayed in one place, so he walked, dragging Tiberius with him.

  The night seemed to creep by, hour after painfully slow hour. Their muscles growing stiff, their eyes burning with the desire to close them in sleep. Rafe shook off the fatigue and kept moving. The Rogu were encouraged to see Tiberius, their young leader, on the frontlines. Rafe guessed that they all expected him to use his magic to defeat their attackers, but Rafe knew better. Tiberius was exhausted and he doubted if his friend would be of much use in the battle. Still, Tiberius was no coward, nor was he one to shirk his duties. He had never been skillful in combat like Rafe, but he would willingly put himself into harm’s way if that were necessary to protect the people he loved. Rafe wanted to make sure that Tiberius wasn’t hurt or captured, so he kept his best friend close.

  They were walking slowly, neither man talking. They had run out of topics for conversation long ago and were now content to walk side by side. They moved from one Rogu warrior to the next, making their way around the camp. Rafe stopped and took a long drink from a water skin. He let the cool liquid run down his throat and sharpen his senses.

  “Do you hear that?” Rafe asked.

  “Hear what?” Tiberius replied, his voice croaking a little.

  They both stood still, listening intently. Rafe had thought he heard the sound of movement, but it had vanished. He started out into the darkness, his eyes straining to see something, anything, but it was useless. Fires still burned around the perimeter of the camp, their meager light casting shadows around the Rogu standing guard. Rafe could see the warrior ahead of them, but the man was little more than a dark blot.

  Then a horn sounded. Rafe felt relieved that the attack was finally underway. All the pent-up anxiety over the battle drained away in a moment, and his fatigue was replaced by a shocking jolt of adrenaline.

  “Sounds close,” Tiberius said.

  Rafe nodded; he knew he had heard something and guessed that the attacking Hoskali were spread out. He gripped his club and set his feet. Suddenly, out of the darkness, attackers appeared. There were at least six that Rafe could see. They were merely shadows moving out of the darkness toward the camp.

  “Get behind me, Ti!” Rafe ordered.

  A grin spread across Rafe’s face. He was finally getting a chance to vent all the pent up frustration he felt. Six against one was stiff odds for anyone, even Rafe, but he guessed Tiberius would help where he could. The Earl’s son had his whip and that would even things out a little, Rafe guessed.

  One of the shadows ran straight toward Rafe. He didn’t have time to worry about the rest. Rafe could see the attacker’s club was raised over his head. Rafe lifted his own club to parry the blow, but the attacker didn’t swing his club. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and barreled into Rafe. Both men fell hard, but Rafe had the wind knocked out of him. He struggled desperately just to suck in a lungful of air. His arms and legs worked, but they were clumsy as he struggled to get back to his feet.

  The attacker was much quicker to get up and once again he raised his club. Rafe knew that on his hands and knees, gasping for breath, there was little he could do to ward off the blow he knew was coming. He feebly raised one hand. He knew it was a useless gesture, but it was all he was capable of at the moment.

  Then there was the familiar swooshing sound of Tiberius’ whip. The long braided leather wrapped around the attacker’s club and with a tug Tiberius sent the attacker’s weapon flying through the air. Even in the darkness Rafe could see the look of surprise on the raider’s face. Rafe took advantage of the man’s lapse in concentration, bringing his own club around in a vicious strike that landed squarely on the attacker’s knee. Rafe heard the joint pop. He wasn’t sure if the club had broken bone or not, but the attacker
dropped to the ground with a scream of agony.

  Rafe struggled back to his feet and looked around, expecting to be overrun by the other attackers.

  “What happened to the rest of them?” he gasped.

  “They ran past us,” Tiberius said frantically. “Into the camp.”

  Rafe’s face flushed with anger. He understood now how the Hoskali fought. They didn’t fear death because the weapons they used against one another weren’t normally deadly. Their goal wasn’t to defeat the Rogu, or take over the tribe. They were raiders in the truest sense of the word. They would come in, take whatever they saw that looked valuable, be that a person or an object, then flee.

  “Come on,” Rafe said. “We have to stop them.”

  They ran into the camp and were pleased to discover that they could see much more easily. There were shouts of surprise all around them. Rafe saw an attacker with a club and zeroed in on the man. He ran as fast as he could, but felt slow and was still gasping to catch his breath. The attacker was pulling a young girl from her father’s arms. The girl was shrieking with fear, and the father was cursing as he pulled his daughter back. The attacker raised his club in his free hand, preparing to strike down the father, but Rafe got there first.

  His first blow caught the attacker on the wrist, just below his club. The assailant cried out in pain, letting go of the girl and grabbing his injured arm as he turned to face Rafe. The smile had returned to Rafe’s face as he swung the club back around in a low arc that caught the attacker near his heel. The assailant’s leg flipped upward and the man crashed onto the ground with a thud.

  Normally, Rafe would have finished his opponent off, stabbing him through with his sword or at least knocking him senseless with his club, but this time he left the attacker lying on his back and let the girl’s father finish the man off. He saw the older man drop onto the attacker with both knees, a look of furious vengeance in his eyes.

  “It would have been merciful to finish that one off,” Tiberius said as they ran toward another attacker.

  “I have no mercy tonight,” Rafe said.

  The next attacker was battling a Rogu warrior, their clubs flying so swiftly it was hard to see. Rafe didn’t slow down, he merely swung his club as they hurried past, landing a glancing blow on the side of the man’s head. The attacker staggered from Rafe’s attack and the Rogu took advantage of the momentary lapse in the attacker’s defenses. He quickly landed three heavy blows, disarming the man, then doubling him over with a heavy shot to his abdomen, then finishing him with a vicious blow to the back of the man’s head.

  They fought another attacker who had thrown a young woman over his shoulder. Rafe saw what he guessed was her young husband, lying near their small fire with blood trickling from one ear. Tiberius’ whip snaked out and then wrapped around the attacker’s leg. The raider had been intent on escaping with his prize and didn’t see Rafe hurrying up behind him. The man fell as Tiberius tugged on the whip. The young girl flew from his grasp and Rafe hurrying forward knocked the man unconscious with a savage kick to the side of his head.

  “She okay?” Rafe called out as Tiberius checked on the girl.

  “Shaken up, but fine,” Tiberius replied.

  “Stay with me then!” Rafe ordered.

  He realized he was barking at the Earl’s son, and the tribe’s Swanee, but as they fought Tiberius fell into place beside his friend. It reminded Rafe of when the two were children. He remembered them running through hordes of imaginary villainous foes, Rafe always taking the lead and Tiberius backing him up. Even then Tiberius had not insisted on being in charge, letting Rafe take command even though as the Earl’s son Tiberius would have outranked Rafe in any real combat situation. But Tiberius had never been arrogant the way his brothers were. He never saw a need to force his own ideas onto others or to insist that Rafe defer to him because of his status in Avondale. The two were comfortable letting the other lead according to their strengths.

  They came upon a group of three attackers trying to steal goods from an ox cart. Rafe leapt at the closest raider, his club batting down the man’s meager defense while Rafe’s free hand chopped into the attacker’s throat. The man fell, gasping and coughing, both hands now clutching at his throat. The other two men dropped the goods they were stealing and raised their clubs. Tiberius took the man on the left, while Rafe fought the man on his right. Tiberius kept his distance, letting his whip lash out at the man. Rafe heard the swoop and crack of the whip, mentally thinking the other attacker was in for a painful encounter. Then all of Rafe’s attention was on the man in front of him.

  The raider was bigger than Rafe, his shoulders and arms thick with muscles that seemed to shine in the glowing light of the fires. The attacker’s club lashed out more swiftly that Rafe would have guessed such a big man was capable of. Rafe knew how to use angles to reduce his opponent’s strength and deflect the heavy blows that the attacker was raining down on him. Still, he marveled at the man’s strength. It took all of Rafe’s skill and strength to hold the man at bay. Then, from the corner of his eye, Rafe saw Te’sumee leading a group of Rogu back through the camp. They hurried toward Rafe.

  The attacker saw the Rogu advance too, and turned to flee. Rafe chased the man, but the attacker was faster than Rafe. Then a club flew past Rafe’s head and hit the attacker between his shoulder blades. The man fell and Rafe jumped onto his back, letting his club smash down on the back of the bigger man’s head in a heavy blow.

  “You okay?” Tiberius asked. He was panting as he hurried up after Rafe.

  “I’m fine,” Rafe said getting back to his feet.

  “There are more,” Te’sumee said. “This way.”

  They joined the group of Rogu racing through camp. Most of the attackers were now trying to escape. They had run through the camp, and would keep moving to the far side once they found something or someone to steal. The group of Rogu caught three more before reaching the center of the camp. There were a dozen attackers pulling Tiberius’ harem out of the large tent.

  “Lexi!” Tiberius shouted, but there was no reply.

  Several of the women called out in alarm. They were held fast in the grip of the brawny attackers, but when the raiders saw the Rogu, they called to their companions and turned to face Rafe, Tiberius, and the Rogu.

  Rafe spun into action, ducking beneath the closest attacker’s club and whirling around. He let his club extend, catching another attacker off guard before coming back around to smash into the first man’s side. The attacker grunted and staggered sideways where Te’sumee’s elbow knocked him to his knees. Rafe was parrying another attacker’s club, when yet another man rushed at him. Rafe waited as long as he could, then dropped to the ground. The man rushing at him started to jump over Rafe, but the man he’d been fighting accidentally hit the other attacker on the head with his club, knocking him senseless. The attacker flew over Rafe, who then launched himself upward, raising his club as he did so, catching the first man on the chin with an upward shot that snapped the attacker’s head back and sent him sprawling into yet another raider so that both men fell in tangle of arms, legs, and wooden clubs.

  Rafe turned to find his next opponent when he saw an attacker snatch Olyva up. She was flung across the raider’s shoulder, her body limp. Rafe couldn’t tell if she was hurt, but he knew he had to stop the man. He ran forward, only to be hit from behind with a heavy club. He fell, pain exploding in his shoulder. His hand felt weak on his club as he scrambled back to his feet.

  The man who had hit him was closing in to finish the attack, but Rafe was ready for him. He turned suddenly, switching his club to his left hand and swaying back away from the raider’s clumsy swipe. Rafe felt the wind from his opponent’s club as it passed right in front of his face. As Rafe staggered backward, he swung his own club, but without any real intent on landing a blow. He just needed the split second to regain his balance before his opponent attacked again. As the man rushed forward, Rafe stepped to meet him, closing the distance b
etween them so that the attacker’s club was a less potent weapon.

  Rafe grabbed the man’s shirt and pulled him even closer before slamming his head straight into the attacker’s face. He felt the bones in the attacker’s nose shatter, then the man dropped. Rafe was stunned by his own attack, bright spots of light danced around the perimeter of his vision. It took another second for him to remember that Olyva was being kidnapped.

  He turned around once again, ignoring the furious brawl between Te’sumee and the other Rogu who were trying to stop the cluster of attackers around Tiberius’ tent. He saw the man with Olyva in the distance. He was sprinting through the camp, running fast. Rafe hurried after him, but he was too slow. His legs felt so heavy, and the ground seemed to be pitching and rolling under him. Still, he kept moving, keeping his enemy in sight.

  The attacker fought off another Rogu and Rafe closed in. He was close behind the man now, but not quite close enough to engage.

  “Stop!” Rafe bellowed, but the attacker only increased his speed.

  Suddenly they were on the edge of the camp, the light from the fires behind them fading quickly. Rafe watched with fury and despair as the attacker disappeared into the darkness.

  “No!” Rafe screamed, forcing his tired legs to run faster.

  He ran into the darkness, unable to see the man or Olyva anymore, but he refused to let her go. All he could think of was the fight they’d had earlier that evening. He would have gone to her and begged her forgiveness, but he knew she would be sleeping. He had planned to make things right when the sun rose, but now his chance to earn Olyva’s forgiveness was slipping away. He felt panic raging through him, but he didn’t stop running. He could hear the other man grunting with exertion ahead of him and Rafe knew at some point the man would have to stop running. When he did, Rafe would catch up, and then he would save Olyva, even if it cost him his own life.