Keep on the Borderlands

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  He bit his lip. It’s your fighting nerves, he told himself angrily. Save it for them, why don’t you? If nothing else, he knew, their mage had an elf’s night vision and both spells and charms at the ready.

  He caught his breath in an upsurge of fierce joy. The clearing between the fire pits exploded in a glare of red and green lights, flame and sparks flying everywhere. The noise was deafening. Men came awake yelling in panic or fury, and someone screamed like a girl. Men bolted from beneath the canvas, rolled out of blankets on the ground, fumbling for swords, daggers, and pikes. Two of the Keep men he could see were ready to leap forward, then, but Jerdren gestured them sharply back. We wait here for those men, he thought, and hoped the men remembered his orders.

  So far, things were going just as he’d hoped. Bandits milled dazedly mid-camp, though two of them tried to make a dash toward the higher ground. One fell with an arrow in his throat—M’Whan’s, Jerdren thought—and the other turned and ran back to crouch behind one of the fire pits. Suddenly, a short, broad man emerged from the tent, a sword in each hand, and began to curse at them in a loud voice. Another followed, and ran forward to grab one of the men and shake him hard.

  “What’s wrong with you men? What was all that noise and light?” he demanded.

  “Keep soldiers! I saw ’em! Blue shirts!”

  “Save that!” the squat man bellowed and brandished both blades aloft. “Brother, get your squad moving. Make sure they don’t cut us off! You and you, see to the horses! Rest of ye, come with me!”

  Some of the men simply broke and ran for the path leading down the east slope. Jerdren grinned broadly and strode forward to intercept the first of them, sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

  The closest men yelled a warning and broke off to either side of the path, but one massive brute with a black beard and a curved sword raised his blade and ran straight for Jerdren, bringing the weapon down in a hard overhand. Jerdren parried that stroke and brought his sword back around. The bandit parried in turn. A fast clash of blades, sword to sword, before his dagger slipped under the other’s guard. The man gasped, staggered away, and fell right in front of another who was pelting for the trees. The runner saw him but too late to change course. He fell hard, and one of the Keep men ran a spear through him. Jerdren was already righting another, vaguely aware of yet another charging up on his left, pike in hand.

  “Eddis!” he yelled, but her sword had already cut through the pole, and her backswing slashed a long cut across the attacker’s forehead. Blinded by his own blood, he staggered back. Eddis strode forward and lunged, her point catching him high in the arm before she brought the blade around two-handed. He folded in half and fell at her feet. Before the man behind him could reach her, Eddis was back at Jerdren’s side, sword between her knees and the bow in her hands. The string twanged sharply, and the man fell, her arrow through his throat.

  “Look out!” Blorys shouted.

  Jerdren came halfway around to his right, sword coming down as his dagger came up. The ragged swordsman parried his big blade, and the dagger bounced off a small buckler. Blorys slashed at the man and missed as the bandit brought his sword up and around in a blurring movement. Jerdren ducked, but too late. The blade sliced through his left eyebrow and into his hairline. Blood blinded him. He cursed furiously and brought the dagger up—by luck and guess burying it in the robber’s belly. The man gasped and went down, taking the blade with him. Jerdren went to one knee long enough to snatch up the dying man’s long sword.

  Behind him, Blorys shouted, “All right?”

  “Fine!” Jerdren said. Blood ran down his face still, but by tilting his head, he had one eye clear.

  “Spearmen!” Eddis yelled a warning from his left and tugged at his sleeve. He backed up with her as three men running shoulder to shoulder threw themselves at the path. All carried long boar spears.

  “Room!” he yelled back.

  Eddis moved away and launched an arrow at the nearest spearman. The man swung his spear wildly, possibly hoping to deflect it. The point sank deep in his eye, spinning him around and dropping him, dead before he hit the ground. Jerdren turned aside as the other two charged at him, let their momentum carry them on, then leaped back to slash at unprotected necks and heads. One man wailed and staggered off into the trees where two of the Keep men put him down for good. The other whirled back around, panic in his eyes as he looked at Jerdren, who was grinning like a madman, his eyes wild and blood running down the side of his face. The man screamed in terror, threw his boar spear aside, and sped on down the trail.

  And there’s our man to spread the tale, Jerdren thought. That’s enough, I think. He spun back, blades at the ready, but for some moments, no one else came their way. He blotted the cut on his forehead and wiped his eyes clear. Off to his right, three of the Keep men had several bandits huddled on the ground.

  Over between the two fires, Mead and M’Baddah confronted the squat man who’d come from the tent. Captain, that’ll be, Jerdren thought. Another spate of fighting over near the ledge, and half a dozen men just beyond the canvas shelter seemed to be readying some plan of attack. Three men running toward the path were stopped by Blor and whoever was off to his right.

  Eddis tugged at his sleeve. “You’re cut! How can you see anything?”

  “Still got one eye clear,” he yelled back.

  “You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on things, overseeing! Like me!” She pulled a rag from her belt. “Hold still! And hold this for me!” She shoved her sword at him, roughly bound the cloth around his brow. He winced and swore as she took back her blade.

  “Hurts worse than the cut did, woman!”

  “So? You can see properly, can’t you?”

  Blorys was coming back, and all at once Jerdren could see Willow and M’Whan, heading into the firelight with five men, two of them limping badly, the other three bound and tied together. There was still some fighting beyond the fire pits, but as he watched, the last of the bandits dropped his boar spear and went to his knees.

  “Where’d the leader go?” Jerdren demanded. “Eddis, if you cost us that man, wrapping my head up—!”

  “Give it over, Brother,” Blorys broke in. “He’s there, Mead has him bespelled, I think. Got him before he could rally ’em.”

  “Oh? Oh. Good.” Jerdren rubbed his forehead, dislodging the bandage.

  Blorys tugged it back down into place. “You’re a gory enough sight. Leave it be.” He looked around. “Anyone get past you?”

  “One here,” Jerdren said. “On purpose. Other than him—don’t think so.”

  “Not here,” M’Baddah said. “Two of ours wounded up here, one badly.”

  “Get them into the firelight,” Eddis said. She looked across the clearing as Mead came into the open. “Mead! All clear your way?”

  “All clear!”

  “Good!” Jerdren called back. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up!”

  * * *

  It took time, building the fires back up, searching out the bodies and the wounded. Their own wounds were mostly minor, though the man M’Baddah tended had suffered a deep cut the length of his forearm.

  Ten of the bandits lay dead, another twelve wounded. Several had been taken prisoner without any fight at all, Mead’s spell and the suddenness of the attack having startled them so badly. Their captain was still under Mead’s hold spell and now heavily bound as well. His brother had been badly wounded and was barely conscious. Three men, so far as they could tell, had escaped, and two at least had been unarmed when they fled.

  Eddis was moving around the fire, sword still in one hand, checking the knots on the bound men, seeing that their own wounded were taken care of, then that the injured bandits were treated. When Jerdren would have protested, she gave him a cold stare.

  “Act like a butcher, and you’re no better than they are. Didn’t you say that once? Besides, we’ll get back to the Keep with them that much faster if we aren’t transporting half-dead men. Unless
you’d like to take M’Baddah’s place as executioner this time around?”

  She turned away before her co-captain could think of anything to say.

  Mead, Willow, M’Whan, and Blorys were walking around the camp—the mage seeking any bandits who might be in hiding, his brother searching the tent for stolen goods, while the other two worked through the men’s blankets and the canvas shelter. As Eddis moved out into the open, Mead came striding past the horse lines and beckoned her.

  “There is someone hiding out there by the horses,” he said very softly. “Not a bandit, no fighter. Someone very afraid. I thought perhaps you and I… ?”

  Eddis nodded and went with him.

  Most of the horses had calmed down, she noticed as they came up to the picket lines, but the two nearest the west end were restless, shoving against their neighbors. She met Mead’s eyes, nodded again, and let him lead the way.

  Hay was strewn along the picket lines, but at this end, the stuff was piled high as a horse’s belly. Eddis slowed well short of the stack and gazed steadily at it. Not a trick of her eyes or the firelight—the hay had moved, ever so slightly. She gestured for the mage to go on around, until they had the pile between them. At her nod, the two dove into the stack, grabbing for whatever lay beneath.

  A high-pitched yell of fright and rage. Startled, Eddis nearly let go, but Mead had a good grip, and the swordswoman grabbed at a flailing arm, got it by the elbow, and hung on. She shook her head to clear bits of hay from her eyes as she and the mage dragged their writhing captive toward the fire. She stopped dead and stared in complete astonishment at the furious, grubby little creature they held between them.

  “Gods bless me,” she said. “It’s a child!”

  The grubby little creature twisted furiously in Eddis’ grasp and tried to bite Mead’s fingers. Greasy hair, hacked short, slapped across the swordswoman’s arms. Eddis was aware of the bandit captain trying to struggle to his feet, being shoved back down by Jerdren. The screeching child claimed her full attention once more as its teeth sank into her left wrist. She swore angrily, wrapped a hand around a knotted tuft of hair, and yanked. The child’s head slammed into her forearm, and it shrieked.

  “Let me go! You let Blot go! Lemme go!”

  Mead’s fingers began to glow as he murmured a spell. The child went wide-eyed and quiet, and it tried to back away, but Eddis had it.

  “Be quiet,” the mage said evenly, “or this spell will turn you to stone.”

  Blessed silence. The elf mage looked around them, his angry gaze sweeping across the prisoners. “What is a human child doing here and in such pitiful state? Where is its mother?”

  “Maybe this fellow could tell you,” Jerdren replied sharply. “Seemed awfully interested when you two hauled it out of hiding. Captain here, aren’t you? Captain of this camp?” he asked.

  Silence, broken by the sound of a hard kick and a grunt of pain. “I only ask nicely the first time,” he said. “What about this child, eh?”

  The child twisted half-around to screech at Jerdren. “Don’t you hurt ’im. You got no right!” It tore at Eddis’ fingers. “Lemme go!”

  The swordswoman gave Mead an exasperated look, locked her other hand in the dreadful hair, and shouted, “Mead! Use the spell! Anything to shut the creature up!”

  The child caught its breath in a gasp and cowered away from her. Eddis felt ashamed of her outburst and angry because of it.

  The captain cleared his throat. “Leave the brat alone. It’s done no harm. It’s ours, honest like. Not stolen, it ain’t. Born to us.”

  “Who’s its father, and where’s its mother, then?” Jerdren demanded. “Brat that size ought not to be without parents.”

  “It—which is the child? Boy or girl?” Eddis asked angrily. Her knuckles stung where ragged fingernails had torn at them, and the hair she kept in a tight grip was disgusting to the touch and smelled dreadful. “I can’t keep saying ‘it’!”

  The man closed his mouth tightly.

  She eyed the filthy child, bit back a sigh, and essayed a smile. Tried to make her voice soothing. “Little one, I’m sorry if we scared you. We don’t mean to frighten children.” Silence. “What’s your name? Are you a boy, or a girl?”

  “Told you, I’m Blot,” it replied sullenly. Large tears pooled in the dark eyes and ran down thin cheeks all at once, leaving pale tracks in the dirt.

  Eddis was suddenly furious with this captain and all the men who’d camped here with him. To so neglect a child… how low were they?

  Blot spoke up, voice thick with tears, “What ye’ll do with Blot? With ’im?” Her eyes went toward the captain.

  “Is he your father, Blot?”

  “Don’t know what that is. ’Im’s just Captain. Lets me live here, sleep in the tent there with ’im ’n ’is brother. I gotta do what they say, get wood for the fires, ’n keep ashes cleared proper like.”

  Eddis met Mead’s eyes, nodded to let him know she’d take control of the situation. She caught the child’s shoulder gently as the mage released it and brought the suddenly quiet creature over to where the prisoners had been gathered. Her eyes were hard as they met those of the bandit captain.

  “Suppose you tell me, then, Captain! Since the child doesn’t seem to have any idea?”

  He eyed her stubbornly.

  “Fine! I guess I’ll let Jerdren kick it out of you—be still, child!” she ordered and tightened her grip on Blot’s skinny shoulders. The child twisted in her grasp, realized it was no use, and went still again.

  The prisoner glanced at Jerdren, looked at the child for a long moment, finally shrugged. “Told you true, Blot’s ours. We had a few camp women, last place we were. Bad idea, I knew it then, and so it proved. Women like that set the men against one another, always playing little games. And y’get by-blows like that all too often.” His gaze moved expressionlessly over the child and then beyond her. “Mother died when it was a year old—maybe two. I forget.”

  “It?” Eddis asked. The man glanced at her, away. Shrugged again.

  “She. M’brother took to it—her. Kept her about, can’t think why. Was it left to me, I’d’ve had it exposed and there’s an end to it. Men like us got no use for something that young and useless.”

  Eddis’ eyes narrowed.

  The man went on, clearly unaware of her rising fury. “Turned out a useful creature in its way. We taught it to tend fires, fetch water—things like that. Taught it from the first that it didn’t dare give over its chores, whatever it thought of ’em. Turned out my brother was right. Blot frees up a man or two when they’re needed on important tasks.”

  Eddis drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. The poor child was probably expecting a beating. Clearly it was all she knew. She wouldn’t understand the swordswoman’s anger was for the man who’d so ill-treated her.

  “She,” Eddis said evenly. “So—how old is she?”

  He considered this briefly. “Ten—twelve summers? Man loses count.”

  “Ten or twelve.” Eddis stared at him. “And you kept her here, openly? Living with all these men?”

  He scowled up at her. “Now, listen, there’s none of that! Wouldn’t ever have been, either. I run a clean camp! Didn’t I say we was rid of loose women? Time came,” he shrugged, “and Blot was old enough, we’d give the child a chance to learn weapons and join us.”

  “And if she didn’t want to become a bandit, what then?” Eddis’ voice remained soft, but the captain edged away from her, until Jerdren’s boot stopped him.

  “What d’ye think? We’re not savages! My brother would’ve taken her to some town and turned ’er loose!”

  “And, trained as you’ve trained her, of course she’d be able to find an honest way to earn her way,” Eddis replied sourly. “Jerdren, get him away from me.” She walked off, bringing Blot in tow.

  “What’ll ye do with ’im?” Blot asked in a small voice. “Y’ can’t kill ’im. ’E swore ’e’d protect me!” Another thought occurred to her.
“Where’s ’is brother? Where’s Hosig?” She pulled against Eddis’ grip, but in vain.

  “M’Baddah?” Eddis turned to look for her lieutenant. “M’Baddah, where are—? Oh, there, thank the gods,” she added as the man came out of the gloom to join her. “She’s after the captain’s brother—the man with the horses, down at the river, wasn’t he?”

  M’Baddah’s eyes shifted toward the canvas shelter, where the more gravely wounded had been moved, and he shook his head minutely.

  “Not yet,” he said quietly, “but soon.”

  Eddis shifted her grip on the child’s shoulders and went to one knee to be on her level. “Blot? We’ll take you to see him. But… well, he’s hurt.”

  “Hurt? ’E won’t die, will ’e?”

  Blot asked fearfully. Eddis looked up at M’Baddah, who knelt next to her and met the child’s eyes.

  “I do not think he is so badly hurt. Eddis tells you this only so you will not cry or look afraid when you see the bandages. He is your friend?”

  Blot didn’t seem too sure about “friend.”

  “’E lets me have one of ’is blankets when it’s cold out, and sometimes ’e helps me with the heavy pots and the wood and stuff.”

  “That is a friend,” M’Baddah said gently. “Because he cares for you. Come. We will take you to your friend.” He held out a hand.

  Blot searched his face, sniffed quietly, and suddenly held out one of hers. Eddis bit back reservations of her own and released the child, who went quietly with her lieutenant. The swordswoman glanced at Jerdren, held up a hand when he would have trailed along, and went after the two.

  The wounded man lay a little apart from the others. Someone beyond him moaned nonstop, though all the men here had been tended to. At first, Eddis thought he looked no worse than his companions. His leg had been splinted with a long stick of firewood. There was a spreading bruise on his forehead and a ragged, oozing cut that crossed his right hand. His face was tight with pain. M’Baddah spoke first to the robber and then softly against the child’s ear before he gave her a gentle shove forward. The man made a clear effort to focus on her, and even managed something of a smile.