Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2)

by David Sherman

  The Golden Girl stopped and stood in the middle of the road, swaying her hips from side to side. She sinuously raised one hand skyward and turned her torso to the side and back again. Her arm lowered and the other snaked above her head. But in her swaying she did not move her feet, she did not dance.

  One Jokapcul took a few steps forward. Others followed suit. In moments a mass of soldiers was walking rapidly west, toward this apparition. The Golden Girl turned languorously about and resumed her sinuous walk but back toward the fence. The Jokapcul followed. She didn’t walk so slowly they could easily catch up with her, nor did she walk fast enough to entice them to run. She looked behind and saw the more adventurous ones were gaining—but was relieved that most of the soldiers stood where they were and just watched.

  The fence looked miles away, the forest beyond it seemed lost beyond the horizon. Yet she resisted the temptation to run. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. Behind her, raised voices called to her. She couldn’t make out the words but she knew what they were saying: Stop, beautiful one! I will show you what a real man can do, my beauty! Be mine, my heart, and we will both live in paradise! Those and other things that she had heard countless times from the men who paid the dear price for a night with her at The Burnt Man Inn. Nights she had given unwillingly, for the slavemaster who pocketed the price would have punished her most severely had she not given what he was paid for. She wanted to scream in terror and fly blindly from the men following her; when Spinner and Haft freed her she resolved no man would ever again touch her without her leave and desire. Now many men were following and—she looked back coquettishly—closing rapidly. If they caught her they would touch her as they willed, with no consideration of whether or not she gave her leave. They would touch her—and more—as many as could at once, and the others would jostle for their turns.

  She could hear the footsteps of the men behind her. Sweat began to flow down her back and between her breasts. The fence and the forest seemed farther away than before.

  She maintained her pace.

  Distant hoofbeats came to her ears. She tossed her hair and looked back again. The nearest Jokapcul were close enough that the closest among them could see her smile, so she smiled at them. Farther away, just leaving the camp, she saw horsemen galloping her way. She faced front again, her breath so fast and shallow she was growing faint. She forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply. Horse carcasses and bloodstained dirt to her sides—the fence must be closer than it looked. She focused her vision on the missing gate and took a very deep breath. Men cheered when her shoulders lifted and her back arched.

  Then she was through the gate and the forest no longer seemed impossibly distant. Behind her, the footsteps speeded up. Angry cries sounded as the hoofbeats caught up with the walking men and the riders attempted to force their way through.

  She looked back and smiled again, and the smile wasn’t forced. She smiled because the Jokapcul were struggling among themselves, trying to be the first through the gate. Others, farther from the gate, were scrambling over the fence, falling in their haste; many gushed blood when they tore their flesh on the barbs, and some screamed in agony when the imps rushed out of their houses to feast on them.

  Then she was past the first tree. The tree she’d stood behind waiting for dawn was only paces away. Hoofbeats sounded behind her, hoofbeats echoed within the trees. Men shouted in anger. She heard the clash of weapons as she reached her tree and stepped around it.

  Dawn flooded across the cleared land and illuminated the charred remains of Eikby, the pens where the prisoners were kept, the tents of the Jokapcul. Too much was in the way, they couldn’t see beyond to the far fence where the Golden Girl was beginning her walk toward the camp. The thirty crouching men waited tensely. Spinner walked behind the line, steadying the men, making sure no one would shoot prematurely and give them away. The increasing daylight revealed tall poles towering above the highest tents in the center of the masses of tents. Heads rested on the tops of the poles. The insistent drum roused sleeping soldiers from their tents, they began walking toward the latrines, then stopped in waves from a center the watching men couldn’t see. In moments, nearly all of the Jokapcul were stopped, staring to the west. Some began edging forward, slowly began walking, picked up their pace.

  “Now,” Spinner said in a voice just loud enough to carry to the group.

  Haft and Silent rose to their feet, a Zobran next to each. The four spoke to the Lalla Mkouma perched on their shoulders and vanished from view.

  Silent and Hunter went north of Eikby’s ruins, to the men’s pen.

  Haft and Birdwhistle headed south to the women’s. Two guards stood outside the enclosure’s gate, looking west. They exchanged words, and one left his post to see what the other soldiers found so fascinating. He turned back, shouted something, and ran to join the soldiers looking west.

  Haft sprinted forward and swung his axe in a vicious overhand arc. The Jokapcul collapsed heavily, sliding off the axe blade. A few women who happened to be looking in the direction gasped and stepped back. Haft swung his axe at the lock on the gate, and shattered it. The broken gate slammed open. More women and children looked up at the sound, women trembled at the sight of the guard lying before the open gate; children tried to hide in their mothers’ skirts.

  When a disembodied voice near the fence said in Zobran, “Come quickly! Run to the forest,” a woman screamed.

  Haft swore at himself when he heard the scream and rubbed the leg of his Lalla Mkouma. “Rub her leg,” he said to the Zobran. “Let them see you.”

  Birdwhistle made a startled noise; he’d forgotten. He popped into view, startling several women and children, who stared at the tiny women perched on the shoulders of Haft and Birdwhistle.

  Haft saw a woman from the company and ran to her. She recognized him and, crying out in a relief, flung herself into his arms. Other women from the company also recognized him and Birdwhistle. They began shouting in their excitement. Haft signaled for everyone to be quiet. They calmed down and he said, “Spinner and some soldiers are in the trees. Gather everyone and run to them. Is anyone in the soldiers’ tents?”

  One woman said, “Yes.” She rattled off the names of women she didn’t see, then finished with, “I think there may be more in the tents.” Others chimed in with names of missing women.

  “All of you, run for the trees. You’ll find Spinner and safety there. Don’t worry, we’ll get the others out of the tents.” He turned away and ran back to Birdwhistle then they vanished as the women streamed toward the trees. One of the men in the forest stood up and advanced into the clear so the women could see him. His wife and child saw and sprinted toward him. The others, encouraged, ran after them.

  When Spinner and Birdwhistle reached the tents east of the women’s pen, Jokapcul officers and sergeants were shouting and shoving among the soldiers who were watching their companions trail after the Golden Girl. Two officers and a sergeant were chivvying three squads to the horses and making them saddle mounts. The invisible men ran quickly along the lines of tents, each checking a different line, looking in one tent after another. Most were unoccupied, but when they found a woman they made themselves visible and sent her on her way to safety. By the time Haft reached the last tent, the three mounted squads were on their way to catch the soldiers following the Golden Girl. He found a woman huddled in a corner and made himself visible.

  “Come, I’m here to rescue you,” he said in his best Zobran.

  The woman whimpered and moved away from him.

  “Really, come with me. You’re safe now.”

  She covered her head with her arms and whimpered again.

  Haft crawled into the tent and took her by the arm. “Come with me.”

  “No, please, not again.” Her voice was thick with weariness and fear.

  He pulled firmly but gently and drew her toward the tent’s entrance. When she was in the light the first thing he saw was she was naked, he grimaced at the bruises that c
overed her body and swelled her face. The second thing he saw was who she was.

  “Maid Marigold! It’s me, Haft. Where is your dress?”

  “Ooo! Zheez hurd!” the Lalla Mkouma gasped when she saw Maid Marigold’s condition.

  “Please, no. I hurt!” Maid Marigold tried to pull away.

  “Maid Marigold, look at me.” He took her face in his hand and turned it to his. “Open your eyes, look at me. It’s Haft.”

  She whimpered again, but squinted between her bruised, swollen eyelids. Her gaze wavered for a moment before her eyes focused on him.

  “Haft?” she gasped. “Is it really you?”

  “It’s me, truly. I’m here to rescue you.”

  She flung her arms around his neck, almost dislodging the Lalla Mkouma, and held on like a drowning woman to a floating board.

  “Ey! Naw poozhin’!”

  Maid Marigold noticed the miniature woman on Haft’s shoulder and jerked back. “What’s that?” her voice shook.

  “It’s all right, that’s a Lalla Mkouma. She’s good.”

  The Lalla Mkouma preened.

  Maid Marigold gave the Lalla Mkouma a suspicious look, but decided if Haft said it was all right it must be. She collapsed into his arms. “Oh, Haft,” she burbled into his shoulder, “I couldn’t allow myself to believe you’d come for me. But you did, you really did!”

  “Where’s your dress? We have to cover you before we go out.” He heard shouts of surprise and anger, and men running to obey barked commands—the Jokapcul must have discovered their prisoners were gone. “Please, now. Rush!”

  “Over, over . . .” She waved vaguely toward the corner where she’d huddled.

  “Gittum!” The Lalla Mkouma hopped off his shoulder, scampered to the corner of the tent, and quickly returned with a dress. The woman flinched at the little demon’s contact with her bruises. “Liffum ahmz,” she said as she pulled the dress over Maid Marigold’s head.

  Haft had to take hold of the woman’s arms and pry them from around his neck. Between them, he and the Lalla Mkouma pulled the badly ripped dress over her head and shoulders.

  Outside, shouting and barked commands grew louder. Hoofbeats thundered. Hoofbeats? Haft didn’t have time to wonder about that.

  “Can you make us both invisible?” he asked the Lalla Mkouma.

  “Naw zwetz. Old’er kloze.”

  Haft backed out of the tent and wrapped his arms around Maid Marigold. The Lalla Mkouma hopped from the woman’s shoulders to his and began spinning. He lifted Maid Marigold in his arms. Her feet and ankles showed outside the demon’s circle of invisibility, but there was no remedy for that. He sprinted to the forest and didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  The Golden Girl heard hoofbeats behind her and echoing in the trees, men were shouting in surprise and anger—and the unexpected clash of weapons. She stepped around the tree she’d hidden behind waiting for dawn and froze at the tableau before her. The four Bloody Axes and two Blood Swords stood facing eight horsemen armed with swords—bandits! They’d forgotten about the bandits!

  Startled by the sudden appearance of the Golden Girl, the bandits gaped at her for an instant, all the time the Skraglanders needed to break the stalemate. They dropped the reins of their horses and charged, bellowing war cries. Their axes and swords swung up and chopped down and six bandits fell immediately. The other two lasted only a few seconds longer.

  “Come, lady,” Sergeant Phard said in badly broken Zobran when the last of the bandits was down, “we must go.” He led her to her horse and put her on it while the others mounted and kept watch around them. There were still hoofbeats and clashing weapons in the trees, but most of the fury sounded like it was in the open ground between the forest and the fence.

  As Phard was leaping onto his horse, a dozen horsemen crashed through the trees at them.

  “Traitors!” shouted one of the bandits when he spotted the Blood Swords. “Kill them all!” He led a charge at them.

  “You!” one of the Blood Swords yelled back. “You are the traitor!” He heeled his mount forward.

  The other five Skraglanders were already in motion, smashing into the bandits and breaking their charge. Three of the bandits crashed to the ground in the first contact and didn’t rise again. One Bloody Axe went down when two bandits swung their swords at him and he was only able to deflect one blow before the other blade struck home.

  The Bloody Axe swung his sword right and left, sent bandits reeling away as he closed on their leader. The other bandits paired off, two of them on each of the other Skraglanders.

  “You!” the Blood Sword roared.

  “I will kill you!” the bandit leader roared back. The two collided and sword crashed against sword.

  The Golden Girl calculated the odds and didn’t like the result. A few yards away, two bandits and the other Blood Sword circled each other in melee, the bandits gaining the upper hand. She shook off her fear and heeled her horse into the fray. Her stallion shouldered one bandit horse hard in its hindquarters; struggling to keep his balance and regain control of his mount, the bandit didn’t even see her when she opened his throat with a backhanded slash. He dropped his sword and the reins, clutched at his throat in a vain attempt to slow the gushing blood. His horse, abruptly freed, leaped at the other bandit’s horse and both stumbled. The Blood Sword finished his remaining foe.

  “Thank you, lady,” he shouted as he looked for someone else to fight.

  “You disobeyed!” the bandit leader shouted. “You deserter!” He swung his sword and the Blood Sword effortlessly blocked it.

  “You joined the bandits!” He swung at the bandit leader’s side, the bandit leaned out of reach and his horse screamed as the sword’s point nicked its neck.

  The Blood Sword released by the Golden Girl’s help raced to the aid of a Bloody Axe and slammed his blade into the back of a bandit about to strike a killing blow. A second later that Bloody Axe’s remaining foe was down and the two went to the aide of the others.

  “Die!” the bandit leader shrieked as he thrust his sword at his opponent’s belly.

  Deflecting that strike with a thrust of his own, he shouted, “Die yourself, Captain!” and the Blood Sword stabbed deeply into the bandit leader’s chest. He fell backward off his horse, thudded to the ground, and lay still, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.

  The Blood Sword spun around in time to see the last of the dozen bandits fall. After the initial clash, no more Bloody Axes had fallen, though several were bleeding.

  “It’s Captain Dumant!” the other Blood Sword exclaimed when he looked at the fallen bandit leader.

  “It was,” the soldier who killed him said.

  “Put him on his horse,” Sergeant Phard pointed at his lone dead man, “and let’s get the lady back to safety.”

  As they sped off, they heard the thunder of demon spitters behind them.

  “What happened? What are the Jokapcul doing?” Spinner asked anxiously when Haft appeared in front of him. He didn’t even glance at the woman in Haft’s arms. “I think I heard demon spitters.”

  “I don’t know, I was busy rescuing Maid Marigold and didn’t take time to look. Are you sure you heard demon spitters?”

  Spinner strained to look beyond the ruins and tents to the far side of the open land. “Maybe not,” he said, but he was afraid the Jokapcul had caught Alyline, her Skraglander guards had gone to her rescue, and all were lost. Then Haft’s first words got through to him and he looked at the woman who now stood clinging to Haft. He barely recognized her bruised face.

  “Maid Marigold?”

  She nodded, the movement exposing a breast. She took one hand from Haft just long enough to tuck the flap back into place.

  Spinner, remembering that night in the inn, looked quickly around and saw Maid Primrose struggling through the crowd of prisoners to come to his side. He turned red.

  “We should go,” Silent said from next to him. “Before the
Jokaps come back and find everyone gone.”

  “Go. Yes, we need to go. Silent, get the people moving. Haft, send scouts out to the front, I’ll set a rear guard.” His face’s bright color lessened when he saw the steppe giant intercept Maid Primrose and herd her back to the other freed people.

  “Right,” Haft said dryly. He’d also seen Maid Primrose and noticed Spinner’s blush. He headed toward the former prisoners, straight to Maid Primrose. He had to peel Maid Marigold off himself and push her to her friend.

  “Stay with Maid Primrose,” he said. “I have to go ahead and make sure our trail is safe.”

  “Don’t leave me!” Maid Marigold wailed, reaching for him.

  “You’re safe now, don’t worry. Take care of her,” he said to Maid Primrose, who gathered Maid Marigold into her arms and tried to sooth away her tears while looking longingly at Spinner.

  Haft took Birdwhistle and Hunter ahead to scout the trail. The three of them were invisible before they got out of sight in the trees.

  Farther back, Xundoe speculatively eyed the Jokapcul tents. “You and you,” he said to the two nearest soldiers, Muves and another Skragland Guard, “come with me.” He sprinted into the open.

  “Xundoe, come back!” Spinner shouted. The mage ignored him.

  Xundoe was panting heavily by the time they reached the tents. He inadvertently looked at the poles that towered above the largest tents, jerked his gaze away from the heads mounted on them. With a shake, he brought himself back to what he was doing to look around and plan his next steps. Thirty yards to his right front, just beyond the more northern group of tents, a tight knot of Jokapcul officers watched the battle between their troops and the unexpected bandits. His eyes widened when he saw the mayor’s chain of office hanging around the neck of one of them. He forced himself to look up at the heads again, was the mayor’s among them? Yes, the head of the mayor of Eikby stared blindly toward the women’s enclosure.