How many of the people who depended on him and Haft for leadership and protection had been killed? How many were still out there, looking for sanctuary? Was this valley sanctuary? They had almost no food, and they’d had to leave nearly all of their other property and supplies in the camp. How long could they hold out when the Jokapcul found this valley? Could they find the rest of their people and head north before the Jokapcul found the valley? Did they have any chance of evading the Jokapcul when they pulled out?
He’d resolved none of his questions before exhaustion finally pulled him under.
Haft had no trouble falling asleep. He knew their only chance to survive was to go out and kill the Jokapcul before the Jokapcul found and killed them. He had no illusion that it would be easy, but neither did he doubt it could be done. Since the Jokapcul outnumbered them so badly the remains of the company would have to catch them in small groups. If the enemy was conducting a serious search for them, he would have to break into small groups to cover enough ground, so it would be possible to catch the Jokapcul in the necessary small groups. Tomorrow was soon enough to begin looking for them. Yes, Haft had no trouble falling asleep. There was nothing they could do before morning anyway, and they were safe enough that night.
The pickets were relieved in the morning and fresh patrols sent out. Silent and Wolf ranged independently in search of wandering survivors and Eikby refugees—and scouting for Jokapcul movement and reinforcements. Beginning in midmorning, more members of the scattered company dribbled in, along with a few more Eikby survivors.
Spinner went up the valley, which didn’t extend very far before its rising bottom narrowed to little more than a crack in walls twice the height of a man. He found a place where he could easily climb to the top of the wall. There he climbed a tree that allowed him to look over the forest into the distant Eikby clearing. He was too far away to make out anything more than a black smudge where the town had been, a few tendrils of smoke that still rose from it, and tiny, moving, specks that were probably Jokapcul. There must have been something he could have done differently to prevent the Jokapcul destruction of the town. But what? He had no idea, and Lord Gunny Says gave no clues.
Haft patrolled for a time, then found a lookout tree to climb. He was only half as far from Eikby as Spinner was and, even though he couldn’t make out details, was able to see more.
A troop of mounted Jokapcul paraded about in maneuvers while people tended the fields and flocks under the watchful eyes of mounted soldiers. He saw others lugging bodies to heap in a growing pile. Some people were building a wooden structure. He estimated that less than a full troop of Jokapcul was watching the laborers. He looked at the forest west of the town, and between the town and his lookout tree. If his guess was right, two full troops—probably more—of Jokapcul horsemen were in those trees searching for stragglers. But the canopy was too dense for him to see through.
When the sun was halfway down the western sky he descended from the tree and began a looping route back to the valley. When he arrived he had five people with him, four members of the company who were wandering lost, and a woman from Eikby who had lain down to die because she was lost and thought she would never find the valley. By then Xundoe was in the valley along with the four farmers who had carried the packs and the hodekin’s cage for him; they’d been found and led in by one of the patrols. The farmers who the day before had been so reluctant to carry the magic-filled packs were now very glad they had because they thought the mage would have left them behind to fend for themselves if they’d been without their burdens.
The number of survivors who made it to the small valley steadily declined over the next three days until Spinner and Haft reluctantly decided no more were coming. Fletcher and Zweepee made rosters of those present from the company and Jakte, the Eikby hunter, made one for the townspeople. The rosters weren’t encouraging. Hardly more than half the people of the company had made it to the valley. Some four hundred of Eikby’s residents were present, but Captain Stonearm, the mayor, the master builder, and carpenter were not among them.
All but two of the Skragland Blood Swords were dead or missing; Spinner and Haft refused to give up hope that some might have survived. Two of the sea soldiers, a Kondiver and one from the Easterlies, were killed and half of the Skraglander Guards and three of the Zobran Royal Lancers hadn’t made it either. Only three of the Skragland Borderers had lived through the battle. Most of the Border Warders were in transit or thought to be on their way. As were the Zobran Light Horse. A third of the Skraglander Bloody Axes were gone. Fewer than half of the veterans of other armies survived. The only squad that made it through intact was the Prince’s Swords of Zobra. In sum, nearly half of the fighting men were dead or missing.
Nightbird and three of the four comfort women had made it to the valley, but close on half of the company’s other women were still missing and more than half of the company’s children.
Six Eikby Guardsmen, four pikemen and two swordsmen, were there, along with a hundred farmers, merchants, and tradesmen. Close to two hundred townswomen had made it, some with their children, including suckling babes. Most of the townswomen had brought their children in the expectation the men would join them later. Only half of those husbands had. A few children had come in without parents.
Spinner was deeply depressed. He’d never before been on the losing side of a battle. He didn’t know how to cope with such a loss. He saw no chance that what was left of the company could find any kind of safety in the Princedons—at least not on the ocean side of the peninsula. They had to go in a different direction. But where—and how? Almost half of the camp followers who had depended on the soldiers and other fighting men to protect them were gone. And those who were missing represented many of the trades and crafts the company needed to sustain itself. Most of their goods, nearly all of their horses, and all of their wagons, were gone. How would—how could—they survive?
He had never asked to be leader of that company, he’d never wanted leadership and its burdens—he didn’t feel competent to be in charge of so many people, responsible for their safety and well-being. He’d been right, a pea on like him shouldn’t be in command; he wasn’t competent. Some mistake he’d made must have cost the lives of so many of the people who depended on him. The simple fact that he had no idea what that mistake was proved him unfit to command.
He and Haft should strike out on their own. And take Alyline with them; the two of them could protect her well enough. If Silent wanted to come he was welcome. Maybe the giant steppe nomad should have been the commander from the beginning. Or Fletcher. Fletcher was intelligent and very knowledgable. Yes, Fletcher should have been in command. And Zweepee, his wife, was always ready to take matters in hand and organize the women and children in an emergency. Even now she was seeing to it that the orphaned children in the valley were being cared for, that the women who had lost their husbands weren’t abandoned. But they—Silent, Fletcher, and Zweepee—were the strongest voices saying he and Haft should be in charge.
Yes, he and Haft should drift away with the Golden Girl and leave Silent, Fletcher, and Zweepee to lead the remnant of the company to safety. He wouldn’t let himself think of it as deserting the people who’d depended on him and Haft; they would be better off without the two of them in charge and making mistakes that cost people their lives. Yes, he’d put it to Haft and Alyline the first chance he got. No, not to Alyline. She was too contrary; she’d resist his idea, no matter how good it was, simply because it was his. He’d tell Haft and together they would take Alyline and slip out of the valley and head north.
“Look at you!” A loud, harsh voice speaking broken Zobran snapped Spinner’s head up. Haft was standing in the open, clumps of defeated people scattered around him.
“Look at you!” Haft shouted again. He turned slowly around as he talked, his mighty axe held ready in his hand. “Sitting there like scattered sheep huddling from a wolf. Anyone would think you were beaten and just waiting for
the deathblow. You look like you’re thinking, ‘We can’t do anything, the Jokapcul are too strong.’ You Eikbyers think you can’t go home because you don’t have a home to go to. The Skraglanders, Zobrans, and others who came here with me and Spinner think we can’t go north because we don’t have the supplies and wagons we need to move this many people into the waste.
“Is that it? ‘We can’t do this,’ ‘we can’t do that,’ so you’ve given up?
“Well, I haven’t given up!” he roared. “Nobody attacks people I’m protecting and kills them and destroys their property and then makes me run. Nobody!” He flung out his arm, pointing his axe in the direction of Eikby. “I’m going back there. And when I’m finished, the Jokapcul will have paid for what they did to you and to that town.
“Who’s going with me?”
No one answered, most looked away from him. It was a long time before a farmer spoke up.
“We think they beat us? That’s because they did beat us! Look around you.” He stood and swept his arm to encompass the valley. “How many people were in Eikby a few days ago? Including you? How many are here now? How many have they already killed? How many are enslaved? If we go back, they’ll kill or enslave the rest of us!”
Haft stared coldly at the farmer until he’d finished saying his piece. Then he said in a low voice that cut through the crowd, “Nobody’s asking you to go if you’d rather run like a clip-winged duck runs from a farmer’s wife with a butcher knife.” The farmer flinched but didn’t back down. Haft continued in a louder voice, “So we lost one little battle. So? It was just one battle, not the entire war. Haven’t you ever heard of Corregidor or Wake Island?” He stopped, blinking. “No, I guess you haven’t. But that doesn’t matter. The point is, the first battle doesn’t make the war. What that battle means is, they think they’ve got us whipped. They think they can ride us down anytime they want.
“They’re wrong.”
“There are hundreds of Jokapcul down there and we have fewer than a hundred fighting men,” someone else objected. “Or do you expect women and children to do battle with them? How can we make them pay for what they did? They’d only finish killing the rest of us.”
Haft turned toward him and lowered his axe to stand with his legs apart and fists on his hips; he leaned forward aggressively. “I don’t want the women and children to go,” he snarled. “I don’t even want all the men to go. But he,” he stuck an arm out and pointed, “has the means for a few of us to go and make the Jokapcul pay dearly.”
People turned and looked where he pointed—at Xundoe the mage. They gaped at the tiny, voluptuous woman draped in a diaphanous gown who perched on his shoulder.
“You know he has phoenix eggs. Some of you have seen what the phoenix eggs can do in a fight. You know he has demon spitters, and most of you have seen what a demon spitter can do. He now has another weapon.” He signaled the mage.
The people watched as Xundoe raised a hand to the figure on his shoulder, and gasped with fear as he vanished.
“You saw him, you know where he’s at,” Haft shouted. “Attack him. Throw stones, shoot arrows, charge and swing your swords at him. Go, he’s the enemy!”
The people gaped at Haft, stared at where the mage had disappeared. One, bolder than the others, walked hesitantly to where Xundoe had vanished and groped about. He stood and looked around in amazement as great as when the mage vanished.
“He’s not there!”
“That’s because I’m here,” Xundoe said, and he reappeared at Haft’s side.
“Invisibility isn’t the only new weapon the magician has to help us win. Now, who’s coming with me?” Haft turned in a circle, looking at everyone. He finished by looking directly at Spinner.
Spinner was aghast. Had Haft gone mad? Even if he had enough Lalla Mkouma for all the fighting men they had, there were still four hundred Jokapcul light cavalry, maybe more, where Eikby had been. The odds against them were horrendous. They had a few demon spitters captured from Jokapcul, but how many did those troops of horsemen have? And what other demonic weapons did their magicians control?
“With the Lalla Mkouma and the other magics our mage now has, a very few brave men can cause enough damage to the Jokapcul that the survivors will know they can’t win. They might even flee.” Haft continued to look at Spinner as he spoke, a very clear challenge.
Spinner thought attacking the Jokapcul with any fewer than two hundred fighters and magicians heavily armed with demon weapons—which they didn’t have—was foolhardy to an extent far beyond simple folly. But he was a brave young man—and a Frangerian Marine. He had a reputation to uphold, even if it meant his death. He stood and walked to Haft’s side.
“Who comes with us?” he asked.
There was hesitation, but in the end most of the remaining soldiers volunteered, so did several other men. There were only four Lalla Mkouma and four working demon spitters, so not all of them could come. In the end, they settled on Silent and four of the Skragland Bloody Axes.
“If we fail, you must take command and get these people to safety,” Spinner told Fletcher in telling him he couldn’t go with them. “No one else in the company is as able for that mission as you are.”
“He’s right,” Zweepee said. “You must stay here.”
“Eight against four hundred,” Spinner muttered when it was settled. “It’s madness. Pure madness.”
Haft grinned at him; Spinner thought he saw mania in the grin.
“Did you sleep through the history lectures in boot camp? Did you miss the story of the Marines on the legation wall, or the story of Howard’s Hill?”
Spinner shook his head. “Those stories aren’t history, they’re myth,” he said. “Or if they are real history, they’re the history of different Marines on a different world.” In the first, a handful of well-armed Marines held out for nearly two months against thousands of ill-armed and poorly led attackers. In the latter, an isolated platoon beat off hundreds of attackers in an overnight battle. “Anyway, those were defensive actions,” he added. “We’re going on the offense.”
“Only until we get them to counterattack.” Haft grinned wickedly. “Then we go on the defense and the Jokapcul will be in real trouble.”
They sent hunters and foresters out to watch for Jokapcul patrols and hunter-killer platoons while the men going on the raid made their preparations. The hunters and foresters reported that the Jokapcul weren’t looking in force, most of them were at Eikby driving the enslaved people in caring for the fields and flocks and the construction of a strange new building. They also found and brought in more survivors.
Alyline and Doli confronted Spinner when the eight raiders took a break from their planning. Haft was with Spinner, but the women intended to ignore him.
“You have to be a hero, don’t you?” Alyline accused.
“Don’t do it, Spinner,” Doli spoke at the same time. “You’ll just get yourself killed.
The two women’s voices almost drowned each other out. Still, Spinner heard both.
“I’m not a hero, and I have to do it,” he answered, looking at them earnestly.
“There aren’t any heroes,” Haft said. “They all died proving their heroism.”
Alyline and Doli ignored him and looked at each other to decide which would speak next. Doli deferred.
“These people depend on you,” the Golden Girl said, “though the gods know I don’t understand why. If you go out there and get yourself killed, what’s going to happen to them?”
“He’s no more a hero than I am,” Haft said. “He isn’t going to get killed—and neither am I. I mean, if anybody wants to know.” Which the women apparently didn’t.
“Think of me, Spinner. I’ll do anything you want, you know that,” Doli interrupted whatever Spinner might have been about to say. “But I won’t be able to do anything for you if you go out there tonight and get yourself killed.”
Alyline also spoke before he could say another word. “Even if everyone we
nt, there are too many Jokapcul and they’re too strong; we can’t defeat them.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Spinner. If you die, that would be as bad for me as going back into slavery.”
“Please, Spinner. For the sake of the people who depend on you.”
“Please, Spinner, don’t go.”
“You can’t defeat them.”
“They’ll kill you, and everyone with you.”
Haft cleared his throat loudly and stood up, stretching himself to his greatest height, which was barely taller than either of the women.
“We aren’t going to get killed,” he said firmly.
“That’s exactly why I’m not talking to you about this idiocy,” Alyline snapped, unable to continue ignoring him. “You honestly believe you can do the impossible. But it’s simply suicide for the eight of you to go up against all those Jokapcul.” But she looked like she was pleading with him.
Doli turned on Haft. “You’re going to get Spinner killed if you go out there!”
“I’m gratified that you’re so concerned for my survival, Doli,” Haft said dryly, then growled at the Golden Girl, “I may not be the most intelligent person ever, but I’m not stupid. And we aren’t going to commit suicide tonight—any Jokapcul foolish enough to fight us will be the ones committing suicide.
“You see, we don’t have to defeat them tonight. All we have to do is hurt them. And we are going to hurt them very severely.”
Alyline sagged, she knew she couldn’t get them to change their minds. She and Doli walked away. Doli’s shoulders shook with her sobs.
“The merely difficult we do immediately,” Spinner murmured. “The impossible may take a little longer. At least, that’s what Lord Gunny said.”
Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2) Page 25