by Dave Skinner
***
Needles crept forward until he could see the Woodland Gate. Two guards were firing crossbows through arrow slits located on both sides of the gate. A third figure in a cloak was loading for them. Needles and his men were six in number. He had lost the others to an attack as they came through the wall. Fortunately, whoever the attackers were, they were poor fighters. The pirates had killed them all while only losing four of their own. Attacking the gate should be much easier. Needles loved surprises when he was causing them.
“Walk quietly. Don’t run unless they be aware of us. You and you, take the guards. I’ll handle the one doin the loading. The rest be gettin the gates open,” he whispered.
The person loading the crossbows was moving back and forth between the two guards. Needles slowed, timing their approach until the loader was with the farthest guard. The closer guard was already dead when Needles clamped his hand over the loader’s mouth, stifling any cries, as he stabbed into the back with his knife. He had made this killing move for years. He was a master at it. He saw the other guard about to be taken down in the same way he was taking down his victim, but something went wrong.
Before his man could reach the guard, the person Needles was holding raised the newly-loaded crossbow, and shot the pirate in the back. Needles pulled back on his knife and jammed it in again, only to feel it slip sideways in his hand again. The face and body of his victim turned towards him. They struggled in silence as the guard screamed for help. The cowl of the cloak fell away and Needles stared in disbelief. The face was covered in scales. He felt a blade enter below his ribcage. It tore up into his chest. So that is what it feels like, was his last thought.
***
Adamtay felt the intense cold stop, and then he was sinking … floating downwards. Below him lay a picture his mind refused to understand until he recognized a walled city, a city under attack. A mass of figures were surging towards two large gates. He searched for Mearisdeana without success. Was she one of the mass trying to enter the city, or was she inside with the defenders? He had no way of knowing.
As he floated lower, the characteristics of the figures started to reveal themselves, but he had no hope of finding Mearisdeana within the mass. He realized there were people on the walls firing down into those below; however he could not see his beloved there either. His eye was drawn to one among the few defenders he could see. He remembered seeing the same man take Mearisdeana in his arms on the strange carriage vehicle. It was the wizard, the one he would kill.
As he came to rest, his heart was pounding. He feared the ground would swallow him up as it had before. Relief surged through him when his footing proved to be solid. He pulled his sword.
“Any idea where she is?” he heard Nailmoe ask from behind.
“I believe she is inside the city with the defenders.”
“Then we should hurry. They are about to be overrun.”
With swords drawn they started forward. “We have company,” one of his men announced. A group of fighters had sprinted out of the vegetation off to their right. They were closing quickly. Screaming unintelligently, they charged into Adamtay’s group and died as their swords bounced off the dayskin protected bodies. Adamtay and his men were unscathed except for a cut on one arm from the Sword of Sacrifice. They bandaged it quickly then made their way towards the city.
***
Swords sang of combat all around. The intensity of the sound lessened as men died. Bray blocked a slash with his sword. Before the pirate could recover, he died with one of Bray’s knives in his throat. Stepping over the body, he moved forward towards the last two pirates on this section of the wall. They attacked like a couple of wolves, working together, intent on his destruction. They were a practiced pair. The one on his left slashed, while the other thrust. Bray’s knife blocked the slash. The sword in his other hand nudged the thrust slightly as he danced sideways and forward. Now he was between his opponents. The pommel of his sword smashed into the thruster’s face. His knife flashed forwards into the slasher’s chest and then across Bray’s body into the thruster’s neck. He heard sounds of fighting coming from further along the guardhouse, but his immediate opponents were gone.
As he started forward, Bray caught something from the corner of his eye that stopped him. Across the killing ground, close to the woods, something was falling from the sky. Six figures in strange outfits came lightly to earth, moved quickly into a fighting formation, and started forward towards the city. Pirates rushed out of the woods and closed with the six who all carried single swords. As a fighter, Bray naturally evaluated other fighting styles when he saw them. These figures used long slashing strokes that spoke of great strength with little need for control, but what amazed Bray and caused him to stop was how they blocked the pirate’s blades. They used their arms. At first he assumed they wore metal grieves, but then he saw strokes being blocked with shoulders also. Probably why they developed such sloppy strokes, he reasoned, blades do not harm them, but then he had to revaluate as a stroke from one of the figures slashed through an opponent and continued on to injure one of their own. He saw the fighter flinch when the blade crossed his skin. That group of pirates were all down. The six figures started towards the city again after they had quickly bandaged their injured comrade. Bray thought, Mearisdeana will be happy; her lover has arrived, then he heard a cry for help from the gates below.
Bray almost flew down the stairs taking three and four at a time. Mearisdeana and a guard were engaged with two pirates while two more were raising the bar on the gates. Bray rushed the two at the gate, but he was too late. The bar crashed to the ground. The gates started to swing inwards. Bray killed the closest pirate with a stroke that removed his head. He slashed his sword into the narrow opening between the gates, hearing someone scream from the other side as he felt it bite into flesh. But the gates continued to open. He slammed his shoulder into one gate. The other pirate, who had helped remove the bar, starting towards him and died from an arrow. Suddenly, Bentback was beside Bray adding his shoulder, as more men joined them.
“Sorry we’re late,” Bentback stated. “Can we get it closed?”
Bray did not bother to answer. There were two few defenders. The gates continued to swing open.
Chapter 58
Ivo was right; more ships were entering the harbour. The first four came in with their sails bloated by wind and headed straight towards shore. The red sail of the ship in the lead made Ran smile.
“Reinforcements yes, but for us, not them,” he stated.
Three ships spun off towards the anchored pirate vessels. The sound of sails crashing down reached Ran’s ears. Many of the charging pirates paused as they heard the familiar sound. Their charge faltered and stopped, then the crash of sails was replaced by the smashing of wood as some of the new ships plowed their bows into the sides of the anchored crafts. Ran could see burning arrows being fired into the broken ships.
The Red Witch having dropped her sails at the last possible moment, rammed its way onto the sand of the harbour beach. Three other ships followed Manda’s lead, more ships looked intent on doing the same. Sailors slid down ropes into the water and waded ashore. The pirates turned and started back towards the beach.
“Get all the men to the gates,” Ran told Ivo as he started down the stairs. “Do it quickly.” By the time the men were off the walls and gathered, Ran had the gates ready to open.
“As soon as we are through the gate, lock it back up,” he told Ivo and a second young guard he had chosen. “The merchants are attacking the pirates, but they need the help of some real fighters, so that is what we are going to do,” he called to the defenders around him. “We will crush them between two forces. Bowmen at the rear, make every arrow count. Here we go.”
The gates had opened enough for the men to squeeze through. In moments they were outside. Their numbers were not great; trotting forward, they closed on the retreating pirates.
The forward edge of the
pirates had just engaged the sailors when Ran and his men slashed into the group from behind. Ran fought from habit, killing with every stroke. Quick glances allowed him to gauge the flow of the battle and watch the big, ugly man who had been leading the attack towards the city. The behemoth was pushing his way through his own men, trying to reach the fighting on the shore. He was swatting pirates out of his way if they did not move fast enough. Ran could sense that only the big man and a few other pockets of pirates were still dedicated to the fight. Many on the edges of the battle were deserting, but the behemoth had to be stopped.
Ran was fighting silently as was his nature with quick, decisive strokes that killed instantly. Now he started to scream a war cry he had heard the Bearclaws use. It had turned his blood cold the first time he heard it, and it did the same thing now to those around him. Simultaneously, he changed his fighting style. Instead of clean killing strokes, he drove his blades into eyes and groins causing shrieking and high-pitched screams from the injured and dying. It worked. The big man turned. Torn between the fighting ahead and the screams behind, he chose the latter and headed towards Ran.
They met in the centre of the mass of fighting and dying men, both evaluating as they circling each other.
“You are the ugliest bastard I have ever laid eyes on,” Ran told him. “Are you related to Sarah the Sloth?”
The big man’s reaction was instantaneous. Sword strokes crashed onto Ran’s blade so fast he could hardly keep his guard up. He managed to dance out of the way, but the man came at him again with the same fury. Ran retreated, concentrating on blocking the flurry of strokes with each backwards step he took. Four steps back, five and six, seven, eight and stop. Fast, but not as fast as Bray. Sensing what was happening in their midst, the guards and pirates around them stopped fighting. The battle was to be decided by these two combatants. They sensed it too.
“For the win, big man?” Ran asked.
“For the win,” the giant answered.
“And by what name should we announce you to the Mother?”
“My name is Cracker, and the Destroyer knows it well.”
Ran smiled, “As he does mine.”
Cracker smiled confidently. His attack was sudden, but this time Ran held his ground, and then stepped forward. Cracker was fast. Cracker was a brute, but he was also outmatched. Cuts started to appear on his body. The intensity of Ran’s attack increased. Cracker lost the smile on his face, and gained a new one across his throat.
A few of the pirates ran, a few fought, but most dropped their swords and surrendered. Leaving them under guard by the sailors, Ran started back to the gates. Manda caught up with him as he entered the city.
“How are Bray and Mearisdeana?” she asked.
“That is what I want to find out.”
***
Despite their effort, the defenders could not keep the Woodland Gates from opening. The press of pirates from the outside was overwhelming. Bray made his decision.
“We let them come,” he announced. “Swords ready?”
Men, their faces grim, nodded understanding. Mearisdeana stepped up to his shoulder.
“I saw six figures float to earth outside the walls. I believe your prince has arrived.”
“Then I should look my best,” she answered, as she smoothly shed her cloak.
“Ready?” Bray shouted. “Now!”
The defenders sprang back. The gates surged open. Pirates fell forward. Swords clashed. Chaos reigned.
Bray stood firm, knife and sword in hand, killing all who came against him. Thought was not necessary, as training took over. His attention flitted around him. He knew Mearisdeana fought on his right, Bentback on his left, and beyond, Bentback, the gate sergeant killed with the efficiency of experience.
My first real battle. The thought came unbidden to Bray’s mind. My first and last perhaps.
The defenders were unable to hold back the tide of pirates surging through the gate opening. They gave ground slowly. A number of pirates pushed through the gates and moved to the right. Bray saw the flanking move, but he was unable to respond to the threat. To move anywhere other than backwards or forwards would open a hole in the line of defenders. A breach would see them all dead. Suddenly the flankers were attacked as more defenders joined the fight. Bray recognized the four Tawshe plus Ran and Manda as they charged into the group. The flankers went down. Ran’s group continued forward into the chaos. Suddenly the press of men against Bray became less. Pirates were turning away from the defenders. They were swinging around as six large warriors charged into those at the rear. The defender’s line pushed forward.
Bray killed three more men who came within reach then, suddenly, his father’s killer was before him. A sword slashed at his head. Bray blocked with his sword, but it broke, sheared through by one of the pirate’s Nadian blades. Bray’s arm swung wide from the lack of resistance to his stroke. He saw the pirate’s second sword thrusting towards his unprotected chest. Off balance, he spun away as best he could, but he knew it was not enough. Mearisdeana smashed into his side driving him away from the thrust. The Nadian sword sliced into her blouse and bounced off her side. She thrust at the man, but he swerved away. Bray pulled his second knife and stepped forward to face Vee.
“You plan to fight me with knives, boy? These are Nadian swords. I killed a Nadian prince for these.”
“I know. You shot him in the back.”
Vee looked startled, but then recognition dawned on his face. “The Prince’s brat, so you did live! I always wondered if you be dead. But no matter, I’ll kill you now, and finally earn the bounty we were paid.” He must have seen the question on Bray’s face. “Oh, you weren’t aware? We were paid to kill you and your father, a large amount of gold … from another Nadian prince.”
He attacked. Bray defended, although not for long. Bray acknowledged that Vee was good, but he was better. He had trained with these knives for two full years. He was a master, and he had trained for this day. The look of confidence slipped from Vee’s face, replaced by concern, and finally by fear. Bray danced, smooth flowing steps that moved him gracefully out of a sword’s path, but kept him close enough to slice at the pirate leader. Soon Vee’s arms, shoulders, and chest were covered in cuts. His wounds seeped blood and, before long, his clothes were drenched in it. Still the dance continued.
Bray did not see those around him. He was not aware that some had turned away, no longer able to watch. This was not a fight now. It was cruel, deliberate, revenge. Vee staggered and fell to his knees, once, twice, three times. Bray waited for him to struggle back to his feet. Vee’s next stroke was feeble and slow. Instead of dancing away, Bray blocked it with one knife and drove the other up into the pirate’s armpit. It was a killing stroke. The blood gushed out, soaking Vee’s side. He fell to his knees. His weapons fell from his hands. Bray stepped forward and picked up one of his father’s swords. From his crouched position he looked into Vee’s eyes.
“I am going to mount your head on a post by the water until the birds strip it clean,” he told him.
“A true Nadian prince,” Vee answered.
The sword swept down, the head toppled. Bray felt empty.
He took stock. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, the clash of swords was all around. The battle was still raging, but he felt hollowed out, carved out, depleted. He stood and watched the battle while he tried to make sense of his emotions. A thought crept into his head; I have my father’s swords. I can go home. A screaming pirate charged him. He still held one of the Nadian swords. Slipping easily to the side he disembowelled the pirate, sheathed his knives, and took up the other sword. I can return home if I live through this day. He charged into the battle.
Eventually the killing stopped. Bray felt a hand fall onto his shoulder as he wrapped a cloth around Bentback’s thigh. Blood had soaked the thief’s pant leg and drained into one boot.
“It looks like some of Mearisdeana’s people have arrived,” s
aid Ran. He nodded towards the gate. Bray glanced over. Mearisdeana was wrapped up in the embrace of one of the figures Bray had seen float to ground. “We need to get them inside if they are staying and close these gates. Will you see to that?”
“Sure,” Bray answered.
He wore a smile as he made his way to where Mearisdeana stood. She was beaming. The happiest Bray had ever seen her. The man who held her was big and muscled. In fact, all six figures were large, bald, and covered in the scales of their dayskin. Mearisdeana’s partner still held his sword.
“Mearisdeana,” Bray called when he was within a few feet of them.
She turned smiling, “Bray, this is—”
The big man cried a word Bray could not understand as he slashed with his sword.
Mearisdeana screamed a single sound as the sword swept in. She threw herself in front of Bray to deflect the stroke.
Bray, remembering how this blade had slice into the dayskin of one of the Prince’s own men, spun her around, away from the blade. The sword cut into his side and continued through his body. Strange, I expected more pain, Bray thought. All he had felt was a hot tingle.
Then Mearisdeana was there, screaming at the man. He grunted something defensive in return. They argued back and forth, while Bray felt his back and wondered what had happened. When he refocused on the argument, he realized that Mearisdeana was demanding that the large man do something, but he was refusing as he pointed at the sky. Finally she said something in a disgusted tone, and her appearance started to change as her dayskin disappeared.
Again she demanded something of the warrior. This time he complied. His dayskin faded away also. Stepping close, Mearisdeana slapped him hard across the face before she turned back to Bray.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I think so, but understanding is beyond me.”
“I am sorry for the way he acted. He thought you were the wizard who brought me here.”