by Sam Barone
The sentry returned to his seat and in a few moments his head began to nod. Eskkar had swung wide around the horses, and the sentry heard nothing. Eskkar traversed the last twenty paces with care, making sure he made no sounds and stopping dead in his tracks whenever the guard’s head shifted or jerked about.
When the horses heard something approaching, familiar scent or not, they’d react. Still, the animals had grown accustomed to seeing men walking around the camp at night. Eskkar eased past the horses without alarming them, and he needed only a few more soft steps to reach the tents without being seen.
Loud snores came from all three tents. Eskkar knew the power of the raw date wine Kovar had stolen. By now Eskkar’s eyes had grown well accustomed to the dim light, and he had no trouble spotting what he’d come for, resting on the ground just outside the opening to Kovar’s tent. Unlike a sword or knife, the bow and quiver had no use inside a tent, especially with Kovar and his two women inside. Without a sound, Eskkar picked them up, and retraced his steps.
The guard remained on his rock, head slumped forward and his back to Eskkar. Taking his time and still moving with care, Eskkar slipped into the shadows and away from the camp.
Back at the farm, he found Iltani awake and sitting up. He called her name as he drew near.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I did. I just woke up a little while ago. I started worrying about you, and couldn’t sleep any more. Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” he said. “I stole their bow.” He held it up proudly for her to see. “They only had the one.” Sitting down, he took inventory of the feather-topped shafts. “Only fourteen arrows. I wish there were more.”
“You said there are seven men. You can’t mean to fight all of them?”
“They’re bandits, not warriors. Without their bow, they can’t kill at a distance, and they won’t want to get too close because of the pox.”
“But they’ll come. When they find the bow gone…”
“Yes, they’ll come.” In truth, Eskkar didn’t care one way or another. The feel of the sword in his hand this afternoon had given him confidence. For the first time in his life, he felt like a warrior, not like a runaway boy. And now the bow only strengthened that feeling.
He yawned. “Can you stay awake a little longer?” he asked, a little embarrassed. A warrior was supposed to be able to stay awake and fight for days without sleep. “I could use some sleep.”
“Rest, then. I’ll keep watch, and wake you if I hear anything.”
Eskkar lay down a few paces away, the sword by his side, glad that she was there and grateful she would keep watch. He fell sound asleep in moments.
She woke him well after dawn’s first light. Startled, he got to his feet, slapping the dirt from his tunic and looking anxiously toward the bandits’ camp.
“You should have woken me at dawn.” He usually stirred a few moments before sunrise.
“You needed to sleep, Eskkar,” she said. “I didn’t think they’d come rushing up here, not after a night of eating and drinking.”
She was right, of course. The bandits might not even be awake yet.
Regardless, he’d wanted to get an early start. Eskkar picked up his sword and moved away from the farmhouse, checking the landscape and looking toward Kovar’s camp. Nothing stirred, so perhaps he had time. First he strung the bow. The bowstring appeared frayed.
Checking the quiver, he found another, newer one stored between the layers of skin that made up the mouth of the case. He held it up to the light and examined every part of its length. This one looked sound, certainly stronger than the old one, so he restrung the weapon.
Carrying the bow and quiver, Eskkar crossed over to the planks that had been used as a work table. Propped on its side, it would make a decent target. Examining the arrows, he selected the worst three shafts and used them for practice. He shot twelve arrows into the board, noting where they struck, and getting the feel of the weapon.
He wished he could take some longer shots, but he didn’t have time for that, and didn’t want to risk losing a shaft. Eskkar unstrung the bow. He remembered his father’s instructions to keep any bow unstrung as long as possible, to save the precious bowstring from unnecessary strain.
Eskkar left the weapon leaning against the farmhouse wall, then placed the older of the swords there as well. The other blade he shoved through his belt, along with his knife. Then he ducked back inside the house, emerging in a moment with the flimsy ladder the inhabitants had used to get up to the roof. It would work just as well from outside, he decided.
When he returned to Iltani, she’d gotten to her feet. She seemed a little unsteady as she moved about, but at least she could walk. Putting his arm around her waist, he led her back toward the house. She hesitated as they drew close, no doubt thinking about her family inside.
“If they come, Iltani, we’ll be safer up on the roof. From there, they won’t be able to rush us.” He didn’t like the idea of being so close to the pox, but neither would Kovar’s men.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. From up there, we can see them coming.”
The roof line wasn’t high – Eskkar could reach up and touch the top with his fingers. Still it provided a vantage point, and would take some effort to climb without the ladder. He didn’t tell her what concerned him. If they were trapped up there, Kovar’s men could set fire to the roof, and Eskkar and Iltani would be burned alive.
They went to the well, and Eskkar drew up a full bucket. He drank his fill, forcing himself to swallow as much as he could hold, and ordered Iltani to do the same.
Then he watered the goats once again, more to stop their bleating than because he cared about their thirst. Afterward, he refilled the bucket, and carried it back to the house, leaving it in the shade beside the wall. If they had to spend the day up there, at least they wouldn’t be choking with thirst.
“Can you climb the ladder,” he asked, “or will…”
“I can climb,” she said, a determined edge in her voice. “But what will we do up there, in the sun, with no food?”
“We won’t be up there long,” he said, hoping he spoke the truth.
A distant shout made him look toward the camp. Three men walked toward the farm. Eskkar picked up the bow and fastened the quiver of arrows to his belt, then jogged toward them. He slowed as he drew close to the arrow Kovar had fired into the earth the day before. Only then did Eskkar string the bow, taking his time and making sure the bowstring fit properly inside the notches.
“You found a bow?” Surprise sounded in Kovar’s voice.
The fool hadn’t even noticed its loss. “Yes, right outside your tent, Kovar.”
Kovar’s face turned red with rage. “You barbarian filth . . . you piece of horse shit, you bring that here right now.”
“Why don’t you come and get it?” Eskkar heard the change in his voice and felt the battle rage coming over him. When he spoke, the first time he’d raised his voice in months, the youth disappeared forever, replaced by a young warrior.
Kovar and his men exchanged looks. Eskkar smiled, reached down, and pulled the arrow from the earth. Taking his time, he fitted it to the bow and assumed the archer’s stance, feet apart, left leg half-pointed at his enemy.
“What are you going to do, barbarian? Kill all of us?”
“If I have to,” Eskkar said, his voice cold with certainty. He saw Kovar’s rage struggling against his habitual caution.
“The girl told me her father sent for help from the nearest village,” Eskkar went on, telling the lie smoothly. “They’ll be here today or tomorrow, so if I were you, I’d get moving.”
“You fool, they’ll turn on you. They hate barbarians even . . .”
“Even more than you do, Kovar? I’ll take my chances with them.”
Eskkar drew the bow, the motion making all three men move apart, ready to duck. He faked releasing the shaft, and watched Kovar fling himself to one side. Before they could r
eact, Eskkar fired the shaft at Kovar’s older brother, the one with the biggest bulk and slowest wits. Surprised at being targeted, the bandit twisted aside, but not before the shaft buried itself in his arm.
A good shot, Eskkar decided, listening to the man’s howl of pain. Better a wounded man than a dead one, for now at least. “I’ll kill the next one that calls me a barbarian. Now get moving before I come down there and start killing the horses.”
The wounded man, already moving backward, cursed steadily as he clutched his arm, blood showing between his fingers. The arrow’s bone tip had penetrated through the flesh above the elbow.
“Eskkar . . . wait.” Kovar, moving backwards as well, had to raise his voice. “Bring us out the goats. Give us the animals, and we’ll leave you alone.”
“You can have all the goats you want,” Eskkar said. “Just come and get them. If the pox doesn’t get you, I will.” He watched while the three men retreated. When Eskkar felt certain they were headed back to their camp, he turned and raced back to the farm, and found himself breathing hard when he reached the house. “Time to climb onto the roof, Iltani.”
He helped her up the wall, holding the ladder steady and ordering her to stay close to the corner where she could watch both doors. Eskkar handed up the full bucket to Iltani, wishing these pitiful dirt-eaters had possessed a second one. The swords went next. Finally he went back to get the blanket that had covered the girl. It would shield her from the sun.
After one last look around, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Eskkar started climbing. The roof felt sturdier than he expected when he stepped off the ladder, until he remembered that the whole family would have slept up here at night to avoid the heat. Satisfied, he pulled the ladder up behind him.
“Stay down,” he told the girl. “If Kovar’s knows we’re on the roof, he might bring fire when he comes.”
Peering over the edge, Eskkar studied the landscape around the farm. Not much cover to shield Kovar’s approach, and with Iltani’s help, they should be able to see anyone trying to sneak up on them. If the bandits waited until night, though, the roof would be a trap. He’d have to take Iltani and try to slip away in the darkness. Hopefully Kovar wouldn’t want to linger a whole day.
From the roof’s vantage, Eskkar could see all the way to the campsite. The bandits were milling around, no doubt arguing with each other. Not that it mattered. In the end, they’d do whatever Kovar decided.
“Can you count, Iltani? We need to keep track of each bandit.” He told her how many men and women Kovar had, what they might do. “What’s most important is to not let anyone get close enough to set fire to the roof.”
“I can count to ten,” she said, holding up both hands.
“That’s enough. There are only seven men, maybe six now that one is wounded.” Thinking about the arrow shot gave him confidence. He’d killed a man the night of his escape from the clan, but that had been from behind, as the man had struggled with Eskkar’s brother, and the warrior probably never knew what killed him.
Now Eskkar had faced three enemies and wounded one of them. A feeling of power and strength flowed through him. His father had spoken of this feeling, the reason their people fought so well. They showed no fear, no matter what odds they faced, only confidence. Eskkar might not survive, but these bandits would soon learn they faced a true warrior. He swore the oath to his dead father.
“I’m hungry, Eskkar,” Iltani said.
Eskkar frowned at her words. He should have thought of that himself. He took a good look at the girl. Iltani looked much better than she had yesterday. If she felt hungry again, so soon after eating a good meal last night, then she must be getting better. Sick people, he knew, rarely wanted to eat.
“Then we’ll eat,” he said. “You keep an eye on the bandits.”
Taking the bow with him, he lowered the ladder and descended. Plenty of firewood remained, and he moved another armful to an empty space about twenty paces from the house. He collected the sticks he’d use as a spit last night, and dug them into the ground. This time the fire caught in moments, and as soon as he had it burning briskly, he went chicken hunting.
When the bird was cooked, Eskkar killed the fire, then carried the whole chicken to the roof, trying not to think about what lay just below them, or what he’d do if they fell through. Iltani waved the chicken about while it cooled.
“What do you think they will do?”
Eskkar looked toward the camp. They’d had plenty of time to break camp, but they hadn’t, so they didn’t plan to move on. “Kovar must think he can get the goats. Right now, five goats are worth at least one or two of his men getting killed or wounded, at least to his way of thinking.”
“So he’ll come.” Iltani touched the chicken, and decided it had cooled enough to eat. She sat on the edge of the roof and began tearing the bird apart.
Eskkar sat beside her, accepting a chicken leg. She matched him mouthful for mouthful, neither of them saying anything until the bird had been reduced to bones and gristle. They tossed the remains onto the ground below.
He made her drink plenty of water, then went down to refill the bucket.
“Eskkar! They’re coming.”
Grunting, he carried the full bucket back to the roof, pulled up the ladder, then snatched up the bow and strung it. Selecting one of the straightest arrows, he fitted it to the string. Then he looked out toward the camp. The bandits were coming on foot, all of them, including the women. Obviously Kovar would rather risk any of his band rather than one of the horses. As Eskkar watched, the bandits separated into three groups. Thankfully, Eskkar didn’t see anyone carrying fire. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that danger – yet.
One of Kovar’s brothers, the one Eskkar shot earlier, drove the five women straight toward the corral. The other men split into two groups of three, and moved toward each side of the farmhouse. Every man carried a crude shield of some sort, sticks and branches woven together and covered with a blanket, anything that might stop an arrow. They were going to rush the house while the women drove off the goats. Unless he cut them down.
“I’m not giving them the goats,” he said. The stupid animals had pleaded with him for water. He’d fed them, and now he refused to turn them over to scum like Kovar.
Iltani stood beside him. She’d picked up the other sword, though she had to use both hands to hold it. “The women are afraid, Eskkar.”
He glanced left and right. They were all going to come into range at about the same time. The men would burst into a run to reach the house, or at least try to keep Eskkar busy, and the women would rush toward the goat pen. Everything was going to happen at once, he realized, feeling his heart beginning to race in his chest.
“They’re not going to get the goats,” he repeated. Eskkar drew the arrow to his ear, and aimed it toward Kovar and his two men. They saw the motion and moved further apart.
Eskkar turned suddenly, and fired the arrow toward the women, giving it just enough arc to reach them. He had another arrow to the string and launched before the first one reached its target. The women shrieked as the arrow flew by, narrowly missing the one he’d targeted. The next shaft also missed, but this woman threw herself down to avoid it.
That was enough for the women. They turned and fled, and even Kovar’s brother, shouting and waving his sword, couldn’t get them moving toward the corral. Even so, the fool tried, grabbing the first one that tried to flee, turning her round and shoving her forward. He stood still just long enough for the third arrow to strike him full in the belly.
A fourth arrow flew over the wounded bandit. “Damn the gods,” Eskkar swore, angry at wasting a shot. Kovar’s brother, now on his knees, tried to pluck the arrow from his body.
Eskkar had already turned, aiming for Kovar. Break him, he decided, and the rest would run. “Watch the others,” he shouted. He shot five arrows at Kovar and his men before a shaft found its mark, dropping one man, and slowing their approach.
“They’re here,” Iltani cried.
The other three were only steps away from the house, running hard, shields raised up. Taking a moment, Eskkar deliberately targeted the last of the three, aiming low and sending the arrow into his stomach. A cry of pain accompanied the strike. This close, they didn’t have much time to dodge.
The other two reached the side of the house, but they had no place to go, except inside. One man ducked in, but the other, Uraq, hesitated, remembering what lay inside. Eskkar leaned over and Uraq thrust upwards with his sword, trying to cut Eskkar’s legs out from under him. The low roof didn’t give Eskkar much protection, and he took a small step back. The lattice work of sticks and branches sagged under his weight, and Eskkar prayed that it wouldn’t collapse.
The instant the sword withdrew, Eskkar stepped forward and shot a shaft at Uraq’s exposed chest. The man tried to twist aside, but the arrow smacked into his shoulder. Uraq screamed like a butchered pig. At such close range, the arrow had penetrated deep into the muscle.
The house shook as Kovar and his brother, Nutesh, slammed into the opposite wall. A shout of terror came from inside the house, and the bandit who’d taken shelter suddenly burst out, running for his life. One sight of the pox-ridden bodies had taken all the fight out of him. With two long strides across the roof, Eskkar rushed to meet the bandit leader’s threat.
Screaming curses, Kovar lunged upward with his sword, sweeping the roof’s edge clear. Eskkar snapped a shot at Kovar’s arm, but the shaft missed. Eskkar whipped another arrow to the string, aware that only one more shaft remained in the quiver. Now there was silence. Eskkar didn’t want to approach too close to the roof’s edge, and Kovar and his brother hugged the wall, not wanting to give him an easy shot.
“What’s the matter, barbarian? Run out of arrows?”
“I’ve still got one for you, Kovar.” Eskkar kept his voice confident as he spoke the lie, but he felt the fear growing inside him. They could move around the house, throw something at him. If they dared to enter the dwelling, they could thrust upward at his feet. They had him on the defensive, and he faced the two strongest fighters in the band. Only a well-placed shaft would bring either of these men down.