By Other Means (Defending The Future)

by James Chambers

  Blood splattered against the side of Birdwhistle’s face. He didn’t look to see whose it was; he could tell from the direction it came from that it was one of his men’s.

  I hope Naedre comes back with the mage in a hurry, he thought.

  The sudden eruption of a blossom of fire to the rear of the Jokapcul in front of Birdwhistle told him that he had his wish—the fire was a Phoenix bursting from its Egg.

  The closest Jokapcul didn’t react to the Phoenix Egg or the screams of their fellows who were burned by it, but kept pressing their attack.

  Until a blood-curdling battlecry ripped through the forest.

  “Sir Haft!” Birdwhistle bellowed, as he took a two-handed swing at the neck of a Jokapcul who had turned his head at the battlecry. The man’s head flew off and slammed into one of his companions, startling the man long enough for the Border Warder he’d been about to disembowel to plunge his blade through an opening in the Jokapcul’s armor, slaying him.

  Then Birdwhistle could see Haft, crashing through the trees, swinging the mighty, half-moon axe from which he got his name as he and the weapon seemed to meld into one, from side to side, chopping mercilessly into Jokapcul flesh. Drycraeft advanced with Haft, pointing his small, handheld demon spitter at the Jokapcul, making it belch thunder and lightning. With each shot a Jokapcul tumbled, struck by spit from the tiny demon living in the handle of the demon spitter.

  Birdwhistle raised his arms in celebration when he saw the surviving Jokapcul begin to flee. But his joy was cut short by a blow to his back that staggered him. He twisted about to see who had struck him, and caught a glimpse of another arrow coming at him. He continued his twisting fall, and the arrow brushed his arm. He gasped, breathless, when he hit the ground; the arrow that had hit him in the back snapped, and its head was driven into his back hard enough to break a rib.

  Abruptly free of targets to his immediate front, Haft unslung his demon spitter and took aim at the fresh Jokapcul squads coming from the escarpment. He got off one shot before the demon popped open its door and squeaked, “Veedmee!”

  Archer led his squad of Border Warders at a trot on an angle he calculated would intercept the Jokapcul foot who were rushing toward the fighting he heard to his right front. He and his men reached them at the same moment the Jokapcul joined up with their cavalry troop.

  Archer and his men stopped in the trees, deeper than a casual glance would detect them in their mottled green surcoats. He hastily whispered orders to the men at his sides, and waited while the orders made it to the ends of the line and came back—by repeating the orders down and back, the commander would know that everybody had the same orders.

  Satisfied that everybody knew what to do and was ready, Archer tapped on his demon spitter’s door and asked, “Are you read? Do you need food?”

  “Ready!” the demon piped back. “Nah ungr.”

  Archer lifted the tube to his shoulder and pointed it into the middle of the mass of men and horses where the two enemy groups met. A remote part of his brain was aware that the sounds of battle to his right died off, and then picked up again with renewed ferocity.

  He pressed the signal lever, and the demon spat. Fire and smoke erupted where the spit struck. Six arrows flew at the same time, three to each side of Archer. Three of the arrows took down footmen who were outside the killing zone of the demon spitter’s shot, and three plunged into the chests of horses that were likewise out of the blast’s range. Archer immediately shifted his aim and fired again, as did each of his men. They didn’t wait to see the effect of their fire, but ran deeper into the forest, away from their hasty ambush.

  Fifty yards deeper and a hundred yards closer to where they heard the rest of their force fighting, Archer stopped and set his men in another ambush.

  “This time, we’ll do the same, and then join the rest of our people,” he told his men.

  They variously nodded or grunted their understanding and agreement. They all wanted to hit the Jokapcul again—and they wanted to rush to the aid of their fellows.

  “Can you spit over them?” Haft asked his demon after he fed it.

  The demon craned its neck and cocked its head, peering over Birdwhistle and his Border Warders at the attacking Jokapcul.

  “Nah zwetz,” the demon piped. It popped back into the tube and thocked the door behind itself. “Aim me, big boy!” it shouted. “Liffum bit,” it added when Haft took aim.

  Haft adjusted his aim, and flinched when the demon spat without waiting for his signal. Nearby, Haft heard the thunder of Drycraeft’s demon spitter, and saw a Jokapcul who hadn’t been hit by his shot tumble. Another went down when the mage’s stick thundered again.

  The arrival of Haft and the mage blunted the Jokapcul counterattack. Even though they were outnumbered more than two to one, the demon weapons more than evened the odds, and the Jokapcul began slowly pulling back.

  “Wrong move,” Haft muttered as he aimed his demon spitter again. If the dummies had closed, I couldn’t use this, he thought as he fired into the Jokapcul again.

  Drycraeft kept shooting until his demon popped out demanding to be fed. Between them, Haft and the mage killed or wounded half of the attackers. The rest turned and fled. Haft sent one more shot after them.

  There had been sounds of fighting to their left earlier, then silence. Battle noises now came again.

  “Archer needs help,” Haft said, and began heading toward the renewed fighting.

  “I still have men missing,” Birdwhistle said.

  Haft hesitated, thinking. Then said, “Take your men, go find them. We’ll link up when you do, or when that’s over.” He jerked his head in the direction of the battle sounds, which suddenly dropped. “Let’s go,” he said to Drycraeft.

  In moments, the two met Archer and his Border Warders. They were grinning broadly.

  “Sir Haft!” Archer said. “I think we have well discouraged the Jokapcul from pursuing us.”

  “Good. Casualty report.”

  Archer’s grin broadened. “A lot for them. None for us. We hit them hard twice, and ran before they could recover enough to do anything in return.”

  “Good. Birdwhistle had casualties, he’s searching for them. Let’s help him.” He looked at Wigfruma, the Light Horse who had accompanied Archer’s squad as scout. “Get the other Light Horse, and go with the mage.” To Drycraeft, he said, “set more traps with your remaining Phoenix Eggs. Use the Hodekin, too.”

  Drycraeft and the Light Horse followed the markers that showed the safe path through the hoof-traps the mage had set earlier. Two hundred yards from where they’d just been fighting, he stopped and instructed the Light Horse to set a series of trip wires across the plain, which was less than a quarter mile wide there. The men didn’t need further instruction; they’d understood when he’d earlier showed them how to make trip wires. Trip wires were similar to the snares they already knew how to make.

  While the Light Horse were busy with the trip wires, the mage got the hodekin out of his weapons chest and made sure its leash was secure. He started walking randomly, tugging on the leash so the hodekin stayed with him. Every few paces, Drycraeft stopped and let the hodekin dig a hole. He didn’t let the small demon dig deep. If he let it, the hodekin would dig and not stop until it needed to rest; all the mage wanted was more holes big enough to trip a horse. When they reached one of the trip wires set by the Light Horse, Drycraeft stopped long enough to affix a Phoenix Egg to its end. Now, when the wire was tripped, the Egg would fall and break open, releasing the fiery bird to wreak havoc on whoever was near, before flying up into the air and away to wherever Phoenixes went.

  The mage had all of his remaining Phoenix Eggs planted, and was continuing to dig trip-holes, when Haft and the Border Wardens came along the safe path. They were carrying their dead and wounded; The missing men had all been found.

  Drycraeft immediately picked up his hodekin and put it away. He was reaching for medical magic when Haft stopped him.

  “W
e don’t have time now,” Haft said. “The main column is almost up to where we hit the van. They’ll probably come at us in force as soon as they see what we did. Let’s get out of the way,” he looked around, grinning, “before they find the surprise we’ve set for them.”

  It wasn’t long before they heard and saw behind them the first of the Phoenix Egg booby traps go off.

  The train was already climbing the cut in the face of the escarpment to its top by the time Haft and the Border Warders rejoined the main force. Along the way, they went through the shattered and burned remains of the Jokapcul camp that had originally stopped them.

  “Well?” Spinner said when Haft reached him at the foot of the cut, where he was overseeing the people who were directing the movement of people and wagons as they began the climb. “It worked, you slowed them down?”

  Haft grinned broadly. “We nearly wiped out their point company, and left enough surprises behind to keep the rest of them moving slowly for a few days.”

  Spinner cocked a skeptical eye at him. “A few days?

  Haft shrugged, still grinning. “One or two days, anyway.”

  Spinner nodded. “A day or two is all we need. This gets very narrow and steep at the top.” He gestured at the cut. “A few determined men can hold off the Jokapcul here for a long time.”

  “Me and the Bloody Axes, we’ll do it. You and the rest of the train should be far away by the time the Jokaps give up trying to get through us.”

  Spinner looked at Haft for a long moment before slowly nodding. “I suspect you’re right,” he finally said.

  ~

  But “The Stand of the Bloody Axes,” that’s a story for another day.